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diff --git a/old/7tptr10.txt b/old/7tptr10.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..2ea7502 --- /dev/null +++ b/old/7tptr10.txt @@ -0,0 +1,9674 @@ +The Project Gutenberg EBook of The Path to Rome, by Hilaire Belloc + +Copyright laws are changing all over the world. Be sure to check the +copyright laws for your country before downloading or redistributing +this or any other Project Gutenberg eBook. + +This header should be the first thing seen when viewing this Project +Gutenberg file. Please do not remove it. Do not change or edit the +header without written permission. + +Please read the "legal small print," and other information about the +eBook and Project Gutenberg at the bottom of this file. Included is +important information about your specific rights and restrictions in +how the file may be used. You can also find out about how to make a +donation to Project Gutenberg, and how to get involved. + + +**Welcome To The World of Free Plain Vanilla Electronic Texts** + +**eBooks Readable By Both Humans and By Computers, Since 1971** + +*****These eBooks Were Prepared By Thousands of Volunteers!***** + + +Title: The Path to Rome + +Author: Hilaire Belloc + +Release Date: January, 2005 [EBook #7373] +[This file was first posted on April 22, 2003] + +Edition: 10 + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: US-ASCII + +*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK, THE PATH TO ROME *** + + + + +Eric Eldred + + + +The Path to Rome + +Hilaire Belloc + + + + + +'. .. AMORE ANTIQUI RITUS, ALTO SUB NUMINE ROMAE' + + + +PRAISE OF THIS BOOK + +To every honest reader that may purchase, hire, or receive this book, +and to the reviewers also (to whom it is of triple profit), +greeting--and whatever else can be had for nothing. + +If you should ask how this book came to be written, it was in this +way. One day as I was wandering over the world I came upon the valley +where I was born, and stopping there a moment to speak with them +all--when I had argued politics with the grocer, and played the great +lord with the notary-public, and had all but made the carpenter a +Christian by force of rhetoric--what should I note (after so many +years) but the old tumble-down and gaping church, that I love more +than mother-church herself, all scraped, white, rebuilt, noble, and +new, as though it had been finished yesterday. Knowing very well that +such a change had not come from the skinflint populace, but was the +work of some just artist who knew how grand an ornament was this +shrine (built there before our people stormed Jerusalem), I entered, +and there saw that all within was as new, accurate, and excellent as +the outer part; and this pleased me as much as though a fortune had +been left to us all; for one's native place is the shell of one's +soul, and one's church is the kernel of that nut. + +Moreover, saying my prayers there, I noticed behind the high altar a +statue of Our Lady, so extraordinary and so different from all I had +ever seen before, so much the spirit of my valley, that I was quite +taken out of myself and vowed a vow there to go to Rome on Pilgrimage +and see all Europe which the Christian Faith has saved; and I said, 'I +will start from the place where I served in arms for my sins; I will +walk all the way and take advantage of no wheeled thing; I will sleep +rough and cover thirty miles a day, and I will hear Mass every +morning; and I will be present at high Mass in St Peter's on the Feast +of St Peter and St Paul.' + +Then I went out of the church still having that Statue in my mind, and +I walked again farther into the world, away from my native valley, and +so ended some months after in a place whence I could fulfil my vow; +and I started as you shall hear. All my other vows I broke one by one. +For a faggot must be broken every stick singly. But the strict vow I +kept, for I entered Rome on foot that year in time, and I heard high +Mass on the Feast of the Apostles, as many can testify--to wit: +Monsignor this, and Chamberlain the other, and the Bishop of +_so-and-so--o--polis in partibus infidelium;_ for we were all there +together. + +And why (you will say) is all this put by itself in what Anglo-Saxons +call a Foreword, but gentlemen a Preface? Why, it is because I have +noticed that no book can appear without some such thing tied on before +it; and as it is folly to neglect the fashion, be certain that I read +some eight or nine thousand of them to be sure of how they were +written and to be safe from generalizing on too frail a basis. + +And having read them and discovered first, that it was the custom of +my contemporaries to belaud themselves in this prolegomenaical ritual +(some saying in a few words that they supplied a want, others boasting +in a hundred that they were too grand to do any such thing, but most +of them baritoning their apologies and chanting their excuses till one +knew that their pride was toppling over)--since, I say, it seemed a +necessity to extol one's work, I wrote simply on the lintel of my +diary, _Praise of this Book,_ so as to end the matter at a blow. But +whether there will be praise or blame I really cannot tell, for I am +riding my pen on the snaffle, and it has a mouth of iron. + +Now there is another thing book writers do in their Prefaces, which is +to introduce a mass of nincompoops of whom no one ever heard, and to +say 'my thanks are due to such and such' all in a litany, as though +any one cared a farthing for the rats! If I omit this believe me it is +but on account of the multitude and splendour of those who have +attended at the production of this volume. For the stories in it are +copied straight from the best authors of the Renaissance, the music +was written by the masters of the eighteenth century, the Latin is +Erasmus' own; indeed, there is scarcely a word that is mine. I must +also mention the Nine Muses, the Three Graces; Bacchus, the Maenads, +the Panthers, the Fauns; and I owe very hearty thanks to Apollo. + +Yet again, I see that writers are for ever anxious of their style, +thinking (not saying)-- + +'True, I used "and which" on page 47, but Martha Brown the stylist +gave me leave;' or: + +'What if I do end a sentence with a preposition? I always follow the +rules of Mr Twist in his "'Tis Thus 'Twas Spoke", Odd's Body an' I do +not!' + +Now this is a pusillanimity of theirs (the book writers) that they +think style power, and yet never say as much in their Prefaces. Come, +let me do so ... Where are you? Let me marshal you, my regiments of +words! + +Rabelais! Master of all happy men! Are you sleeping there pressed into +desecrated earth under the doss-house of the Rue St Paul, or do you +not rather drink cool wine in some elysian Chinon looking on the +Vienne where it rises in Paradise? Are you sleeping or drinking that +you will not lend us the staff of Friar John wherewith he slaughtered +and bashed the invaders of the vineyards, who are but a parable for +the mincing pedants and bloodless thin-faced rogues of the world? + +Write as the wind blows and command all words like an army! See them +how they stand in rank ready for assault, the jolly, swaggering +fellows! + +First come the Neologisms, that are afraid of no man; fresh, young, +hearty, and for the most part very long-limbed, though some few short +and strong. There also are the Misprints to confuse the enemy at his +onrush. Then see upon the flank a company of picked Ambiguities +covering what shall be a feint by the squadron of Anachronisms led by +old Anachronos himself; a terrible chap with nigglers and a great +murderer of fools. + +But here see more deeply massed the ten thousand Egotisms shining in +their armour and roaring for battle. They care for no one. They +stormed Convention yesterday and looted the cellar of Good-Manners, +who died of fear without a wound; so they drank his wine and are +to-day as strong as lions and as careless (saving only their Captain, +Monologue, who is lantern-jawed). + +Here are the Aposiopaesian Auxiliaries, and Dithyramb that killed +Punctuation in open fight; Parenthesis the giant and champion of the +host, and Anacoluthon that never learned to read or write but is very +handy with his sword; and Metathesis and Hendiadys, two Greeks. And +last come the noble Gallicisms prancing about on their light horses: +cavalry so sudden that the enemy sicken at the mere sight of them and +are overcome without a blow. Come then my hearties, my lads, my +indefatigable repetitions, seize you each his own trumpet that hangs +at his side and blow the charge; we shall soon drive them all before +us headlong, howling down together to the Picrocholian Sea. + +So! That was an interlude. Forget the clamour. + +But there is another matter; written as yet in no other Preface: +peculiar to this book. For without rhyme or reason, pictures of an +uncertain kind stand in the pages of the chronicle. Why? + +_Because it has become so cheap to photograph on zinc._ + +In old time a man that drew ill drew not at all. He did well. Then +either there were no pictures in his book, or (if there were any) they +were done by some other man that loved him not a groat and would not +have walked half a mile to see him hanged. But now it is so easy for a +man to scratch down what he sees and put it in his book that any fool +may do it and be none the worse--many others shall follow. This is the +first. + +Before you blame too much, consider the alternative. Shall a man march +through Europe dragging an artist on a cord? God forbid! + +Shall an artist write a book? Why no, the remedy is worse than the +disease. + +Let us agree then, that, if he will, any pilgrim may for the future +draw (if he likes) that most difficult subject, snow hills beyond a +grove of trees; that he may draw whatever he comes across in order to +enliven his mind (for who saw it if not he? And was it not his +loneliness that enabled him to see it?), and that he may draw what he +never saw, with as much freedom as you readers so very continually see +what you never draw. He may draw the morning mist on the Grimsel, six +months afterwards; when he has forgotten what it was like: and he may +frame it for a masterpiece to make the good draughtsman rage. + +The world has grown a boy again this long time past, and they are +building hotels (I hear) in the place where Acedes discovered the +Water of Youth in a hollow of the hill Epistemonoscoptes. + +Then let us love one another and laugh. Time passes, and we shall soon +laugh no longer--and meanwhile common living is a burden, and earnest +men are at siege upon us all around. Let us suffer absurdities, for +that is only to suffer one another. + +Nor let us be too hard upon the just but anxious fellow that sat down +dutifully to paint the soul of Switzerland upon a fan. + +When that first Proverb-Maker who has imposed upon all peoples by his +epigrams and his fallacious half-truths, his empiricism and his wanton +appeals to popular ignorance, I say when this man (for I take it he +was a man, and a wicked one) was passing through France he launched +among the French one of his pestiferous phrases, _'Ce n'est que le +premier pas qui coute'_ and this in a rolling-in-the-mouth +self-satisfied kind of a manner has been repeated since his day at +least seventeen million three hundred and sixty-two thousand five +hundred and four times by a great mass of Ushers, Parents, Company +Officers, Elder Brothers, Parish Priests, and authorities in general +whose office it may be and whose pleasure it certainly is to jog up +and disturb that native slumber and inertia of the mind which is the +true breeding soil of Revelation. + +For when boys or soldiers or poets, or any other blossoms and prides +of nature, are for lying steady in the shade and letting the Mind +commune with its Immortal Comrades, up comes Authority busking about +and eager as though it were a duty to force the said Mind to burrow +and sweat in the matter of this very perishable world, its temporary +habitation. + +'Up,' says Authority, 'and let me see that Mind of yours doing +something practical. Let me see Him mixing painfully with +circumstance, and botching up some Imperfection or other that shall at +least be a Reality and not a silly Fantasy.' + +Then the poor Mind comes back to Prison again, and the boy takes his +horrible Homer in the real Greek (not Church's book, alas!); the Poet +his rough hairy paper, his headache, and his cross-nibbed pen; the +Soldier abandons his inner picture of swaggering about in ordinary +clothes, and sees the dusty road and feels the hard places in his +boot, and shakes down again to the steady pressure of his pack; and +Authority is satisfied, knowing that he will get a smattering from the +Boy, a rubbishy verse from the Poet, and from the Soldier a long and +thirsty march. And Authority, when it does this commonly sets to work +by one of these formulae: as, in England north of Trent, by the +manifestly false and boastful phrase, 'A thing begun is half ended', +and in the south by 'The Beginning is half the Battle'; but in France +by the words I have attributed to the Proverb-Maker, _'Ce n'est que le +premier pas qui coute'._ + +By this you may perceive that the Proverb-Maker, like every other +Demagogue, Energumen, and Disturber, dealt largely in metaphor--but +this I need hardly insist upon, for in his vast collection of +published and unpublished works it is amply evident that he took the +silly pride of the half-educated in a constant abuse of metaphor. +There was a sturdy boy at my school who, when the master had carefully +explained to us the nature of metaphor, said that so far as he could +see a metaphor was nothing but a long Greek word for a lie. And +certainly men who know that the mere truth would be distasteful or +tedious commonly have recourse to metaphor, and so do those false men +who desire to acquire a subtle and unjust influence over their +fellows, and chief among them, the Proverb-Maker. For though his name +is lost in the great space of time that has passed since he +flourished, yet his character can be very clearly deduced from the +many literary fragments he has left, and that is found to be the +character of a pusillanimous and ill-bred usurer, wholly lacking in +foresight, in generous enterprise, and chivalrous enthusiasm--in +matters of the Faith a prig or a doubter, in matters of adventure a +poltroon, in matters of Science an ignorant Parrot, and in Letters a +wretchedly bad rhymester, with a vice for alliteration; a wilful liar +(as, for instance, '_The longest way round is the shortest way +home_'), a startling miser (as, _'A penny saved is a penny earned'_), +one ignorant of largesse and human charity (as, '_Waste not, want +not_'), and a shocking boor in the point of honour (as, _'Hard words +break no bones'_--he never fought, I see, but with a cudgel). + +But he had just that touch of slinking humour which the peasants have, +and there is in all he said that exasperating quality for which we +have no name, which certainly is not accuracy, and which is quite the +opposite of judgement, yet which catches the mind as brambles do our +clothes, causing us continually to pause and swear. For he mixes up +unanswerable things with false conclusions, he is perpetually letting +the cat out of the bag and exposing our tricks, putting a colour to +our actions, disturbing us with our own memory, indecently revealing +corners of the soul. He is like those men who say one unpleasant and +rude thing about a friend, and then take refuge from their disloyal +and false action by pleading that this single accusation is true; and +it is perhaps for this abominable logicality of his and for his +malicious cunning that I chiefly hate him: and since he himself +evidently hated the human race, he must not complain if he is hated in +return. + +Take, for instance, this phrase that set me writing, _'Ce nest que le +premier pas qui coute'_. It is false. Much after a beginning is +difficult, as everybody knows who has crossed the sea, and as for the +first _step_ a man never so much as remembers it; if there is +difficulty it is in the whole launching of a thing, in the first ten +pages of a book, or the first half-hour of listening to a sermon, or +the first mile of a walk. The first step is undertaken lightly, +pleasantly, and with your soul in the sky; it is the five-hundredth +that counts. But I know, and you know, and he knew (worse luck) that +he was saying a thorny and catching thing when he made up that phrase. +It worries one of set purpose. It is as though one had a voice inside +one saying: + +'I know you, you will never begin anything. Look at what you might +have done! Here you are, already twenty-one, and you have not yet +written a dictionary. What will you do for fame? Eh? Nothing: you are +intolerably lazy--and what is worse, it is your fate. Beginnings are +insuperable barriers to you. What about that great work on The +National Debt? What about that little lyric on Winchelsea that you +thought of writing six years ago? Why are the few lines still in your +head and not on paper? Because you can't begin. However, never mind, +you can't help it, it's your one great flaw, and it's fatal. Look at +Jones! Younger than you by half a year, and already on the _Evening +Yankee_ taking bribes from Company Promoters! And where are you?' &c., +&c.--and so forth. + +So this threat about the heavy task of Beginning breeds +discouragement, anger, vexation, irritability, bad style, pomposity +and infinitives split from helm to saddle, and metaphors as mixed as +the Carlton. But it is just true enough to remain fast in the mind, +caught, as it were, by one finger. For all things (you will notice) +are very difficult in their origin, and why, no one can understand. +_Omne Trinum_: they are difficult also in the shock of maturity and in +their ending. Take, for instance, the Life of Man, which is the +Difficulty of Birth, the Difficulty of Death, and the Difficulty of +the Grand Climacteric. + +LECTOR. What is the Grand Climacteric? + +AUCTOR. I have no time to tell you, for it would lead us into a +discussion on Astrology, and then perhaps to a question of physical +science, and then you would find I was not orthodox, and perhaps +denounce me to the authorities. + +I will tell you this much; it is the moment (not the year or the +month, mind you, nor even the hour, but the very second) when a man is +grown up, when he sees things as they are (that is, backwards), and +feels solidly himself. Do I make myself clear? No matter, it is the +Shock of Maturity, and that must suffice for you. + +But perhaps you have been reading little brown books on Evolution, and +you don't believe in Catastrophes, or Climaxes, or Definitions? Eh? +Tell me, do you believe in the peak of the Matterhorn, and have you +doubts on the points of needles? Can the sun be said truly to rise or +set, and is there any exact meaning in the phrase, 'Done to a turn' as +applied to omelettes? You know there is; and so also you must believe +in Categories, and you must admit differences of kind as well as of +degree, and you must accept exact definition and believe in all that +your fathers did, that were wiser men than you, as is easily proved if +you will but imagine yourself for but one moment introduced into the +presence of your ancestors, and ask yourself which would look the +fool. Especially must you believe in moments and their importance, and +avoid with the utmost care the Comparative Method and the argument of +the Slowly Accumulating Heap. I hear that some scientists are already +beginning to admit the reality of Birth and Death--let but some brave +few make an act of Faith in the Grand Climacteric and all shall yet be +well. + +Well, as I was saying, this Difficulty of Beginning is but one of +three, and is Inexplicable, and is in the Nature of Things, and it is +very especially noticeable in the Art of Letters. There is in every +book the Difficulty of Beginning, the Difficulty of the Turning-Point +(which is the Grand Climacteric of a Book)-- + +LECTOR. What is that in a Book? + +AUCTOR. Why, it is the point where the reader has caught on, enters +into the Book and desires to continue reading it. + +LECTOR. It comes earlier in some books than in others. + +AUCTOR. As you say ... And finally there is the Difficulty of Ending. + +LECTOR. I do not see how there can be any difficulty in ending a book. + +AUCTOR. That shows very clearly that you have never written one, for +there is nothing so hard in the writing of a book--no, not even the +choice of the Dedication--as is the ending of it. On this account only +the great Poets, who are above custom and can snap their divine +fingers at forms, are not at the pains of devising careful endings. +Thus, Homer ends with lines that might as well be in the middle of a +passage; Hesiod, I know not how; and Mr Bailey, the New Voice from +Eurasia, does not end at all, but is still going on. + +Panurge told me that his great work on Conchology would never have +been finished had it not been for the Bookseller that threatened law; +and as it is, the last sentence has no verb in it. There is always +something more to be said, and it is always so difficult to turn up +the splice neatly at the edges. On this account there are regular +models for ending a book or a Poem, as there are for beginning one; +but, for my part, I think the best way of ending a book is to rummage +about among one's manuscripts till one has found a bit of Fine Writing +(no matter upon what subject), to lead up the last paragraphs by no +matter what violent shocks to the thing it deals with, to introduce a +row of asterisks, and then to paste on to the paper below these the +piece of Fine Writing one has found. + +I knew a man once who always wrote the end of a book first, when his +mind was fresh, and so worked gradually back to the introductory +chapter, which (he said) was ever a kind of summary, and could not be +properly dealt with till a man knew all about his subject. He said +this was a sovran way to write History. + +But it seems to me that this is pure extravagance, for it would lead +one at last to beginning at the bottom of the last page, like the +Hebrew Bible, and (if it were fully carried out) to writing one's +sentences backwards till one had a style like the London School of +Poets: a very horrible conclusion. + +However, I am not concerned here with the ending of a book, but with +its beginning; and I say that the beginning of any literary thing is +hard, and that this hardness is difficult to explain. And I say more +than this--I say that an interminable discussion of the difficulty of +beginning a book is the worst omen for going on with it, and a trashy +subterfuge at the best. In the name of all decent, common, and homely +things, why not begin and have done with it? + +It was in the very beginning of June, at evening, but not yet sunset, +that I set out from Toul by the Nancy gate; but instead of going +straight on past the parade-ground, I turned to the right immediately +along the ditch and rampart, and did not leave the fortifications till +I came to the road that goes up alongside the Moselle. For it was by +the valley of this river that I was to begin my pilgrimage, since, by +a happy accident, the valley of the Upper Moselle runs straight +towards Rome, though it takes you but a short part of the way. What a +good opening it makes for a direct pilgrimage can be seen from this +little map, where the dotted line points exactly to Rome. There are +two bends which take one a little out of one's way, and these bends I +attempted to avoid, but in general, the valley, about a hundred miles +from Toul to the source, is an evident gate for any one walking from +this part of Lorraine into Italy. And this map is also useful to show +what route I followed for my first three days past Epinal and +Remiremont up to the source of the river, and up over the great hill, +the Ballon d'Alsace. I show the river valley like a trench, and the +hills above it shaded, till the mountainous upper part, the Vosges, is +put in black. I chose the decline of the day for setting out, because +of the great heat a little before noon and four hours after it. +Remembering this, I planned to walk at night and in the mornings and +evenings, but how this design turned out you shall hear in a moment. + +I had not gone far, not a quarter of a mile, along my road leaving the +town, when I thought I would stop and rest a little and make sure that +I had started propitiously and that I was really on my way to Rome; so +I halted by a wall and looked back at the city and the forts, and drew +what I saw in my book. It was a sight that had taken a firm hold of my +mind in boyhood, and that will remain in it as long as it can make +pictures for itself out of the past. I think this must be true of all +conscripts with regard to the garrison in which they have served, for +the mind is so fresh at twenty-one and the life so new to every +recruit as he joins it, he is so cut off from books and all the +worries of life, that the surroundings of the place bite into him and +take root, as one's school does or one's first home. And I had been +especially fortunate since I had been with the gunners (notoriously +the best kind of men) and not in a big place but in a little town, +very old and silent, with more soldiers in its surrounding circle than +there were men, women, and children within its useless ramparts. It is +known to be very beautiful, and though I had not heard of this +reputation, I saw it to be so at once when I was first marched in, on +a November dawn, up to the height of the artillery barracks. I +remembered seeing then the great hills surrounding it on every side, +hiding their menace and protection of guns, and in the south and east +the silent valley where the high forests dominate the Moselle, and the +town below the road standing in an island or ring of tall trees. All +this, I say, I had permanently remembered, and I had determined, +whenever I could go on pilgrimage to Rome, to make this place my +starting-point, and as I stopped here and looked back, a little way +outside the gates, I took in again the scene that recalled so much +laughter and heavy work and servitude and pride of arms. + +I was looking straight at the great fort of St Michel, which is the +strongest thing on the frontier, and which is the key to the circle of +forts that make up this entrenched camp. One could see little or +nothing of its batteries, only its hundreds of feet of steep brushwood +above the vineyards, and at the summit a stunted wood purposely +planted. Next to it on the left, of equal height, was the hog back of +the Cote Barine, hiding a battery. Between the Cote Barine and my +road and wall, I saw the rising ground and the familiar Barracks that +are called (I know not why) the Barracks of Justice, but ought more +properly to be called the Barracks of petty tyrannies and good +fellowship, in order to show the philosophers that these two things +are the life of armies; for of all the virtues practised in that old +compulsory home of mine Justice came second at least if not third, +while Discipline and Comradeship went first; and the more I think of +it the more I am convinced that of all the suffering youth that was +being there annealed and forged into soldiery none can have suffered +like the lawyers. On the right the high trees that stand outside the +ramparts of the town went dwindling in perspective like a palisade, +and above them, here and there, was a roof showing the top of the +towers of the Cathedral or of St Gengoult. All this I saw looking +backwards, and, when I had noticed it and drawn it, I turned round +again and took the road. + +I had, in a small bag or pocket slung over my shoulder, a large piece +of bread, half a pound of smoked ham, a sketch-book, two Nationalist +papers, and a quart of the wine of Brule--which is the most famous +wine in the neighbourhood of the garrison, yet very cheap. And Brule +is a very good omen for men that are battered about and given to +despairing, since it is only called Brule on account of its having +been burnt so often by Romans, Frenchmen, Burgundians, Germans, +Flemings, Huns perhaps, and generally all those who in the last few +thousand years have taken a short cut at their enemies over the neck +of the Cote Barine. So you would imagine it to be a tumble-down, weak, +wretched, and disappearing place; but, so far from this, it is a rich +and proud village, growing, as I have said, better wine than any in +the garrison. Though Toul stands in a great cup or ring of hills, very +high and with steep slopes, and guns on all of them, and all these +hills grow wine, none is so good as Brule wine. And this reminds me of +a thing that happened in the Manoeuvres of 1891, _quorum pars magna_; +for there were two divisions employed in that glorious and fatiguing +great game, and more than a gross of guns--to be accurate, a hundred +and fifty-six--and of these one (the sixth piece of the tenth battery +of the eighth--I wonder where you all are now? I suppose I shall not +see you again; but you were the best companions in the world, my +friends) was driven by three drivers, of whom I was the middle one, +and the worst, having on my Livret the note 'conducteur mediocre'. But +that is neither here nor there; the story is as follows, and the moral +is that the commercial mind is illogical. + +When we had gone some way, clattering through the dust, and were well +on on the Commercy road, there was a short halt, and during this halt +there passed us the largest Tun or Barrel that ever went on wheels. +You talk of the Great Tun of Heidelburg, or of those monstrous Vats +that stand in cool sheds in the Napa Valley, or of the vast barrels in +the Catacombs of Rheims; but all these are built _in situ_ and meant +to remain steady, and there is no limit to the size of a Barrel that +has not to travel. The point about this enormous Receptacle of Bacchus +and cavernous huge Prison of Laughter, was that it could move, though +cumbrously, and it was drawn very slowly by stupid, patient oxen, who +would not be hurried. On the top of it sat a strong peasant, with a +face of determination, as though he were at war with his kind, and he +kept on calling to his oxen, 'Han', and 'Hu', in the tones of a sullen +challenge, as he went creaking past. Then the soldiers began calling +out to him singly, 'Where are you off to, Father, with that battery?' +and 'Why carry cold water to Commercy? They have only too much as it +is;' and 'What have you got in the little barrelkin, the barrellet, +the cantiniere's brandy-flask, the gourd, the firkin?' He stopped his +oxen fiercely and turned round to us and said: 'I will tell you what I +have here. I have so many hectolitres of Brule wine which I made +myself, and which I know to be the best wine there is, and I am taking +it about to see if I cannot tame and break these proud fellows who are +for ever beating down prices and mocking me. It is worth eight +'scutcheons the hectolitre, that is, eight sols the litre; what do I +say? it is worth a Louis a cup: but I will sell it at the price I +name, and not a penny less. But whenever I come to a village the +innkeeper begins bargaining and chaffering and offering six sols and +seven sols, and I answer, "Eight sols, take it or leave it", and when +he seems for haggling again I get up and drive away. I know the worth +of my wine, and I will not be beaten down though I have to go out of +Lorraine into the Barrois to sell it.' + +So when we caught him up again, as we did shortly after on the road, a +sergeant cried as we passed, 'I will give you seven, seven and a +quarter, seven and a half', and we went on laughing and forgot all +about him. + +For many days we marched from this place to that place, and fired and +played a confused game in the hot sun till the train of sick horses +was a mile long, and till the recruits were all as deaf as so many +posts; and at last, one evening, we came to a place called Heiltz le +Maurupt, which was like heaven after the hot plain and the dust, and +whose inhabitants are as good and hospitable as Angels; it is just +where the Champagne begins. When we had groomed and watered our +horses, and the stable guard had been set, and we had all an hour or +so's leisure to stroll about in the cool darkness before sleeping in +the barns, we had a sudden lesson in the smallness of the world, for +what should come up the village street but that monstrous Barrel, and +we could see by its movements that it was still quite full. + +We gathered round the peasant, and told him how grieved we were at his +ill fortune, and agreed with him that all the people of the Barrois +were thieves or madmen not to buy such wine for such a song. He took +his oxen and his barrel to a very high shed that stood by, and there +he told us all his pilgrimage and the many assaults his firmness +suffered, and how he had resisted them all. There was much more anger +than sorrow in his accent, and I could see that he was of the wood +from which tyrants and martyrs are carved. Then suddenly he changed +and became eloquent: + +'Oh, the good wine! If only it were known and tasted! ... Here, give +me a cup, and I will ask some of you to taste it, then at least I +shall have it praised as it deserves. And this is the wine I have +carried more than a hundred miles, and everywhere it has been +refused!' + +There was one guttering candle on a little stool. The roof of the shed +was lost up in the great height of darkness; behind, in the darkness, +the oxen champed away steadily in the manger. The light from the +candle flame lit his face strongly from beneath and marked it with +dark shadows. It flickered on the circle of our faces as we pressed +round, and it came slantwise and waned and disappeared in the immense +length of the Barrel. He stood near the tap with his brows knit as +upon some very important task, and all we, gunners and drivers of the +battery, began unhooking our mugs and passing them to him. + +There were nearly a hundred, and he filled them all; not in jollity, +but like a man offering up a solemn sacrifice. We also, entering into +his mood, passed our mugs continually, thanking him in a low tone and +keeping in the main silent. A few linesmen lounged at the door; he +asked for their cups and filled them. He bade them fetch as many of +their comrades as cared to come; and very soon there was a circulating +crowd of men all getting wine of Brule and murmuring their +congratulations, and he was willing enough to go on giving, but we +stopped when we saw fit and the scene ended. I cannot tell what +prodigious measure of wine he gave away to us all that night, but when +he struck the roof of the cask it already sounded hollow. And when we +had made a collection which he had refused, he went to sleep by his +oxen, and we to our straw in other barns. Next day we started before +dawn, and I never saw him again. + +This is the story of the wine of Brule, and it shows that what men +love is never money itself but their own way, and that human beings +love sympathy and pageant above all things. It also teaches us not to +be hard on the rich. + +I walked along the valley of the Moselle, and as I walked the long +evening of summer began to fall. The sky was empty and its deeps +infinite; the clearness of the air set me dreaming. I passed the turn +where we used to halt when we were learning how to ride in front of +the guns, past the little house where, on rare holidays, the boys +could eat a matelote, which is fish boiled in wine, and so on to the +place where the river is held by a weir and opens out into a kind of +lake. + +Here I waited for a moment by the wooden railing, and looked up into +the hills. So far I had been at home, and I was now poring upon the +last familiar thing before I ventured into the high woods and began my +experience. I therefore took a leisurely farewell, and pondered +instead of walking farther. Everything about me conduced to +reminiscence and to ease. A flock of sheep passed me with their +shepherd, who gave me a good-night. I found myself entering that +pleasant mood in which all books are conceived (but none written); I +was 'smoking the enchanted cigarettes' of Balzac, and if this kind of +reverie is fatal to action, yet it is so much a factor of happiness +that I wasted in the contemplation of that lovely and silent hollow +many miles of marching. I suppose if a man were altogether his own +master and controlled by no necessity, not even the necessity of +expression, all his life would pass away in these sublime imaginings. + +This was a place I remembered very well. The rising river of Lorraine +is caught and barred, and it spreads in a great sheet of water that +must be very shallow, but that in its reflections and serenity +resembles rather a profound and silent mere. The steeps surrounding it +are nearly mountainous, and are crowned with deep forests in which the +province reposes, and upon which it depends for its local genius. A +little village, which we used to call 'St Peter of the Quarries', lies +up on the right between the steep and the water, and just where the +hills end a flat that was once marshy and is now half fields, half +ponds, but broken with luxuriant trees, marks the great age of its +civilization. Along this flat runs, bordered with rare poplars, the +road which one can follow on and on into the heart of the Vosges. I +took from this silence and this vast plain of still water the repose +that introduces night. It was all consonant with what the peasants +were about: the return from labour, the bleating folds, and the +lighting of lamps under the eaves. In such a spirit I passed along the +upper valley to the spring of the hills. + +In St Pierre it was just that passing of daylight when a man thinks he +can still read; when the buildings and the bridges are great masses of +purple that deceive one, recalling the details of daylight, but when +the night birds, surer than men and less troubled by this illusion of +memory, have discovered that their darkness has conquered. + +The peasants sat outside their houses in the twilight accepting the +cool air; every one spoke to me as I marched through, and I answered +them all, nor was there in any of their salutations the omission of +good fellowship or of the name of God. Saving with one man, who was a +sergeant of artillery on leave, and who cried out to me in an accent +that was very familiar and asked me to drink; but I told him I had to +go up into the forest to take advantage of the night, since the days +were so warm for walking. As I left the last house of the village I +was not secure from loneliness, and when the road began to climb up +the hill into the wild and the trees I was wondering how the night +would pass. + +With every step upward a greater mystery surrounded me. A few stars +were out, and the brown night mist was creeping along the water below, +but there was still light enough to see the road, and even to +distinguish the bracken in the deserted hollows. The highway became +little better than a lane; at the top of the hill it plunged under +tall pines, and was vaulted over with darkness. The kingdoms that have +no walls, and are built up of shadows, began to oppress me as the +night hardened. Had I had companions, still we would only have spoken +in a whisper, and in that dungeon of trees even my own self would not +raise its voice within me. + +It was full night when I had reached a vague clearing in the woods, +right up on the height of that flat hill. This clearing was called +'The Fountain of Magdalen'. I was so far relieved by the broader sky +of the open field that I could wait and rest a little, and there, at +last, separate from men, I thought of a thousand things. The air was +full of midsummer, and its mixture of exaltation and fear cut me off +from ordinary living. I now understood why our religion has made +sacred this season of the year; why we have, a little later, the night +of St John, the fires in the villages, and the old perception of +fairies dancing in the rings of the summer grass. A general communion +of all things conspires at this crisis of summer against us reasoning +men that should live in the daylight, and something fantastic +possesses those who are foolish enough to watch upon such nights. So +I, watching, was cut off. There were huge, vague summits, all wooded, +peering above the field I sat in, but they merged into a confused +horizon. I was on a high plateau, yet I felt myself to be alone with +the immensity that properly belongs to plains alone. I saw the stars, +and remembered how I had looked up at them on just such a night when I +was close to the Pacific, bereft of friends and possessed with +solitude. There was no noise; it was full darkness. The woods before +and behind me made a square frame of silence, and I was enchased here +in the clearing, thinking of all things. + +Then a little wind passed over the vast forests of Lorraine. It seemed +to wake an indefinite sly life proper to this seclusion, a life to +which I was strange, and which thought me an invader. Yet I heard +nothing. There were no adders in the long grass, nor any frogs in that +dry square of land, nor crickets on the high part of the hill; but I +knew that little creatures in league with every nocturnal influence, +enemies of the sun, occupied the air and the land about me; nor will I +deny that I felt a rebel, knowing well that men were made to work in +happy dawns and to sleep in the night, and everything in that short +and sacred darkness multiplied my attentiveness and my illusion. +Perhaps the instincts of the sentry, the necessities of guard, come +back to us out of the ages unawares during such experiments. At any +rate the night oppressed and exalted me. Then I suddenly attributed +such exaltation to the need of food. + +'If we must try this bookish plan of sleeping by day and walking by +night,' I thought, 'at least one must arrange night meals to suit it.' + +I therefore, with my mind still full of the forest, sat down and lit a +match and peered into my sack, taking out therefrom bread and ham and +chocolate and Brule wine. For seat and table there was a heathery bank +still full of the warmth and savour of the last daylight, for +companions these great inimical influences of the night which I had +met and dreaded, and for occasion or excuse there was hunger. Of the +Many that debate what shall be done with travellers, it was the best +and kindest Spirit that prompted me to this salutary act. For as I +drank the wine and dealt with the ham and bread, I felt more and more +that I had a right to the road; the stars became familiar and the +woods a plaything. It is quite clear that the body must be recognized +and the soul kept in its place, since a little refreshing food and +drink can do so much to make a man. + +On this repast I jumped up merrily, lit a pipe, and began singing, and +heard, to my inexpressible joy, some way down the road, the sound of +other voices. They were singing that old song of the French infantry +which dates from Louis XIV, and is called 'Aupres de ma blonde'. I +answered their chorus, so that, by the time we met under the wood, we +were already acquainted. They told me they had had a forty-eight +hours' leave into Nancy, the four of them, and had to be in by +roll-call at a place called Villey the Dry. I remembered it after all +those years. + +It is a village perched on the brow of one of these high hills above +the river, and it found itself one day surrounded by earthworks, and a +great fort raised just above the church. Then, before they knew where +they were, they learnt that (1) no one could go in or out between +sunset and sunrise without leave of the officer in command; (2) that +from being a village they had become the 'buildings situate within +Fort No. 18'; (3) that they were to be deluged with soldiers; and (4) +that they were liable to evacuate their tenements on mobilization. +They had become a fort unwittingly as they slept, and all their +streets were blocked with ramparts. A hard fate; but they should not +have built their village just on the brow of a round hill. They did +this in the old days, when men used stone instead of iron, because the +top of a hill was a good place to hold against enemies; and so now, +these 73,426 years after, they find the same advantage catching them +again to their hurt. And so things go the round. + +Anyway Villey the Dry is a fort, and there my four brothers were +going. It was miles off, and they had to be in by sunrise, so I +offered them a pull of my wine, which, to my great joy, they refused, +and we parted courteously. Then I found the road beginning to fall, +and knew that I had crossed the hills. As the forest ended and the +sloping fields began, a dim moon came up late in the east in the bank +of fog that masked the river. So by a sloping road, now free from the +woods, and at the mouth of a fine untenanted valley under the moon, I +came down again to the Moselle, having saved a great elbow by this +excursion over the high land. As I swung round the bend of the hills +downwards and looked up the sloping dell, I remembered that these +heathery hollows were called 'vallons' by the people of Lorraine, and +this set me singing the song of the hunters, 'Entends tu dans nos +vallons, le Chasseur sonner du clairon,' which I sang loudly till I +reached the river bank, and lost the exhilaration of the hills. + +I had now come some twelve miles from my starting-place, and it was +midnight. The plain, the level road (which often rose a little), and +the dank air of the river began to oppress me with fatigue. I was not +disturbed by this, for I had intended to break these nights of +marching by occasional repose, and while I was in the comfort of +cities--especially in the false hopes that one got by reading books--I +had imagined that it was a light matter to sleep in the open. Indeed, +I had often so slept when I had been compelled to it in Manoeuvres, +but I had forgotten how essential was a rug of some kind, and what a +difference a fire and comradeship could make. Thinking over it all, +feeling my tiredness, and shivering a little in the chill under the +moon and the clear sky, I was very ready to capitulate and to sleep in +bed like a Christian at the next opportunity. But there is some +influence in vows or plans that escapes our power of rejudgement. All +false calculations must be paid for, and I found, as you will see, +that having said I would sleep in the open, I had to keep to it in +spite of all my second thoughts. + +I passed one village and then another in which everything was dark, +and in which I could waken nothing but dogs, who thought me an enemy, +till at last I saw a great belt of light in the fog above the Moselle. +Here there was a kind of town or large settlement where there were +ironworks, and where, as I thought, there would be houses open, even +after midnight. I first found the old town, where just two men were +awake at some cooking work or other. I found them by a chink of light +streaming through their door; but they gave me no hope, only advising +me to go across the river and try in the new town where the forges and +the ironworks were. 'There,' they said, 'I should certainly find a +bed.' + +I crossed the bridge, being now much too weary to notice anything, +even the shadowy hills, and the first thing I found was a lot of +waggons that belonged to a caravan or fair. Here some men were awake, +but when I suggested that they should let me sleep in their little +houses on wheels, they told me it was never done; that it was all they +could do to pack in themselves; that they had no straw; that they were +guarded by dogs; and generally gave me to understand (though without +violence or unpoliteness) that I looked as though I were the man to +steal their lions and tigers. They told me, however, that without +doubt I should find something open in the centre of the workmen's +quarter, where the great electric lamps now made a glare over the +factory. + +I trudged on unwillingly, and at the very last house of this +detestable industrial slavery, a high house with a gable, I saw a +window wide open, and a blonde man smoking a cigarette at a balcony. I +called to him at once, and asked him to let me a bed. He put to me all +the questions he could think of. Why was I there? Where had I come +from? Where (if I was honest) had I intended to sleep? How came I at +such an hour on foot? and other examinations. I thought a little what +excuse to give him, and then, determining that I was too tired to make +up anything plausible, I told him the full truth; that I had meant to +sleep rough, but had been overcome by fatigue, and that I had walked +from Toul, starting at evening. I conjured him by our common Faith to +let me in. He told me that it was impossible, as he had but one room +in which he and his family slept, and assured me he had asked all +these questions out of sympathy and charity alone. Then he wished me +good-night, honestly and kindly, and went in. + +By this time I was very much put out, and began to be angry. These +straggling French towns give no opportunity for a shelter. I saw that +I should have to get out beyond the market gardens, and that it might +be a mile or two before I found any rest. A clock struck one. I looked +up and saw it was from the belfry of one of those new chapels which +the monks are building everywhere, nor did I forget to curse the monks +in my heart for building them. I cursed also those who started +smelting works in the Moselle valley; those who gave false advice to +travellers; those who kept lions and tigers in caravans, and for a +small sum I would have cursed the whole human race, when I saw that my +bile had hurried me out of the street well into the countryside, and +that above me, on a bank, was a patch of orchard and a lane leading up +to it. Into this I turned, and, finding a good deal of dry hay lying +under the trees, I soon made myself an excellent bed, first building a +little mattress, and then piling on hay as warm as a blanket. + +I did not lie awake (as when I planned my pilgrimage I had promised +myself I would do), looking at the sky through the branches of trees, +but I slept at once without dreaming, and woke up to find it was broad +daylight, and the sun ready to rise. Then, stiff and but little rested +by two hours of exhaustion, I took up my staff and my sack and +regained the road. + +I should very much like to know what those who have an answer to +everything can say about the food requisite to breakfast? Those great +men Marlowe and Jonson, Shakespeare, and Spenser before him, drank +beer at rising, and tamed it with a little bread. In the regiment we +used to drink black coffee without sugar, and cut off a great hunk of +stale crust, and eat nothing more till the halt: for the matter of +that, the great victories of '93 were fought upon such unsubstantial +meals; for the Republicans fought first and ate afterwards, being in +this quite unlike the Ten Thousand. Sailors I know eat nothing for +some hours--I mean those who turn out at four in the morning; I could +give the name of the watch, but that I forget it and will not be +plagued to look up technicalities. Dogs eat the first thing they come +across, cats take a little milk, and gentlemen are accustomed to get +up at nine and eat eggs, bacon, kidneys, ham, cold pheasant, toast, +coffee, tea, scones, and honey, after which they will boast that their +race is the hardiest in the world and ready to bear every fatigue in +the pursuit of Empire. But what rule governs all this? Why is +breakfast different from all other things, so that the Greeks called +it the best thing in the world, and so that each of us in a vague way +knows that he would eat at breakfast nothing but one special kind of +food, and that he could not imagine breakfast at any other hour in the +day? + +The provocation to this inquiry (which I have here no time to pursue) +lies in the extraordinary distaste that I conceived that morning for +Brule wine. My ham and bread and chocolate I had consumed overnight. +I thought, in my folly, that I could break my fast on a swig of what +had seemed to me, only the night before, the best revivifier and +sustenance possible. In the harsh dawn it turned out to be nothing but +a bitter and intolerable vinegar. I make no attempt to explain this, +nor to say why the very same wine that had seemed so good in the +forest (and was to seem so good again later on by the canal) should +now repel me. I can only tell you that this heavy disappointment +convinced me of a great truth that a Politician once let slip in my +hearing, and that I have never since forgotten. _'Man,'_ said the +Director of the State, _'man is but the creature of circumstance.'_ + +As it was, I lit a pipe of tobacco and hobbled blindly along for miles +under and towards the brightening east. Just before the sun rose I +turned and looked backward from a high bridge that recrossed the +river. The long effort of the night had taken me well on my way. I was +out of the familiar region of the garrison. The great forest-hills +that I had traversed stood up opposite the dawn, catching the new +light; heavy, drifting, but white clouds, rare at such an hour, sailed +above them. The valley of the Moselle, which I had never thought of +save as a half mountainous region, had fallen, to become a kind of +long garden, whose walls were regular, low, and cultivated slopes. +The main waterway of the valley was now not the river but the canal +that fed from it. + +The tall grasses, the leaves, and poplars bordering the river and the +canal seemed dark close to me, but the valley as a whole was vague, a +mass of trees with one Lorraine church-tower showing, and the delicate +slopes bounding it on either side. + +Descending from this bridge I found a sign-post, that told me I had +walked thirty-two kilometres--which is twenty miles--from Toul; that +it was one kilometre to Flavigny, and heaven knows how much to a place +called Charmes. The sun rose in the mist that lay up the long even +trends of the vale, between the low and level hills, and I pushed on +my thousand yards towards Flavigny. There, by a special providence, I +found the entertainment and companionship whose lack had left me +wrecked all these early hours. + +As I came into Flavigny I saw at once that it was a place on which a +book might easily be written, for it had a church built in the +seventeenth century, when few churches were built outside great towns, +a convent, and a general air of importance that made of it that grand +and noble thing, that primary cell of the organism of Europe, that +best of all Christian associations--a large village. + +I say a book might be written upon it, and there is no doubt that a +great many articles and pamphlets must have been written upon it, for +the French are furiously given to local research and reviews, and to +glorifying their native places: and when they cannot discover folklore +they enrich their beloved homes by inventing it. + +There was even a man (I forget his name) who wrote a delightful book +called _Popular and Traditional Songs of my Province,_ which book, +after he was dead, was discovered to be entirely his own invention, +and not a word of it familiar to the inhabitants of the soil. He was a +large, laughing man that smoked enormously, had great masses of hair, +and worked by night; also he delighted in the society of friends, and +talked continuously. I wish he had a statue somewhere, and that they +would pull down to make room for it any one of those useless bronzes +that are to be found even in the little villages, and that commemorate +solemn, whiskered men, pillars of the state. For surely this is the +habit of the true poet, and marks the vigour and recurrent origin of +poetry, that a man should get his head full of rhythms and catches, +and that they should jumble up somehow into short songs of his own. +What could more suggest (for instance) a whole troop of dancing words +and lovely thoughts than this refrain from the Tourdenoise-- + + ... Son beau corps est en terre + Son ame en Paradis. + Tu ris? + Et ris, tu ris, ma Bergere, + Ris, ma Bergere, tu ris. + +That was the way they set to work in England before the Puritans came, +when men were not afraid to steal verses from one another, and when no +one imagined that he could live by letters, but when every poet took a +patron, or begged or robbed the churches. So much for the poets. + +Flavigny then, I say (for I seem to be digressing), is a long street +of houses all built together as animals build their communities. They +are all very old, but the people have worked hard since the +Revolution, and none of them are poor, nor are any of them very rich. +I saw but one gentleman's house, and that, I am glad to say, was in +disrepair. Most of the peasants' houses had, for a ground floor, +cavernous great barns out of which came a delightful smell of +morning--that is, of hay, litter, oxen, and stored grains and old +wood; which is the true breath of morning, because it is the scent +that all the human race worth calling human first meets when it rises, +and is the association of sunrise in the minds of those who keep the +world alive: but not in the wretched minds of townsmen, and least of +all in the minds of journalists, who know nothing of morning save that +it is a time of jaded emptiness when you have just done prophesying +(for the hundredth time) the approaching end of the world, when the +floors are beginning to tremble with machinery, and when, in a weary +kind of way, one feels hungry and alone: a nasty life and usually a +short one. + +To return to Flavigny. This way of stretching a village all along one +street is Roman, and is the mark of civilization. When I was at +college I was compelled to read a work by the crabbed Tacitus on the +Germans, where, in the midst of a deal that is vague and fantastic +nonsense and much that is wilful lying, comes this excellent truth, +that barbarians build their houses separate, but civilized men +together. So whenever you see a lot of red roofs nestling, as the +phrase goes, in the woods of a hillside in south England, remember +that all that is savagery; but when you see a hundred white-washed +houses in a row along a dead straight road, lift up your hearts, for +you are in civilization again. + +But I continue to wander from Flavigny. The first thing I saw as I +came into the street and noted how the level sun stood in a haze +beyond, and how it shadowed and brought out the slight irregularities +of the road, was a cart drawn by a galloping donkey, which came at and +passed me with a prodigious clatter as I dragged myself forward. In +the cart were two nuns, each with a scythe; they were going out +mowing, and were up the first in the village, as Religious always are. +Cheered by this happy omen, but not yet heartened, I next met a very +old man leading out a horse, and asked him if there was anywhere where +I could find coffee and bread at that hour; but he shook his head +mournfully and wished me good-morning in a strong accent, for he was +deaf and probably thought I was begging. So I went on still more +despondent till I came to a really merry man of about middle age who +was going to the fields, singing, with a very large rake over his +shoulder. When I had asked him the same question he stared at me a +little and said of course coffee and bread could be had at the +baker's, and when I asked him how I should know the baker's he was +still more surprised at my ignorance, and said, 'By the smoke coming +from the large chimney.' This I saw rising a short way off on my +right, so I thanked him and went and found there a youth of about +nineteen, who sat at a fine oak table and had coffee, rum, and a loaf +before him. He was waiting for the bread in the oven to be ready; and +meanwhile he was very courteous, poured out coffee and rum for me and +offered me bread. + +It is a matter often discussed why bakers are such excellent citizens +and good men. For while it is admitted in every country I was ever in +that cobblers are argumentative and atheists (I except the cobbler +under Plinlimmon, concerning whom would to heaven I had the space to +tell you all here, for he knows the legends of the mountain), while it +is public that barbers are garrulous and servile, that millers are +cheats (we say in Sussex that every honest miller has a large tuft of +hair on the palm of his hand), yet--with every trade in the world +having some bad quality attached to it--bakers alone are exempt, and +every one takes it for granted that they are sterling: indeed, there +are some societies in which, no matter how gloomy and churlish the +conversation may have become, you have but to mention bakers for +voices to brighten suddenly and for a good influence to pervade every +one. I say this is known for a fact, but not usually explained; the +explanation is, that bakers are always up early in the morning and can +watch the dawn, and that in this occupation they live in lonely +contemplation enjoying the early hours. + +So it was with this baker of mine in Flavigny, who was a boy. When he +heard that I had served at Toul he was delighted beyond measure; he +told me of a brother of his that had been in the same regiment, and he +assured me that he was himself going into the artillery by special +enlistment, having got his father's leave. You know very little if you +think I missed the opportunity of making the guns seem terrible and +glorious in his eyes. I told him stories enough to waken a sentry of +reserve, and if it had been possible (with my youth so obvious) I +would have woven in a few anecdotes of active service, and described +great shells bursting under my horses and the teams shot down, and the +gunners all the while impassive; but as I saw I should not be believed +I did not speak of such things, but confined myself to what he would +see and hear when he joined. + +Meanwhile the good warm food and the rising morning had done two +things; they had put much more vigour into me than I had had when I +slunk in half-an-hour before, but at the same time (and this is a +thing that often comes with food and with rest) they had made me feel +the fatigue of so long a night. I rose up, therefore, determined to +find some place where I could sleep. I asked this friend of mine how +much there was to pay, and he said 'fourpence'. Then we exchanged +ritual salutations, and I took the road. I did not leave the town or +village without noticing one extraordinary thing at the far end of it, +which was that, whereas most places in France are proud of their +town-hall and make a great show of it, here in Flavigny they had taken +a great house and written over it ECOLE COMMUNALE in great letters, +and then they had written over a kind of lean-to or out-house of this +big place the words 'Hotel de ville' in very small letters, so small +that I had a doubt for a moment if the citizens here were good +republicans--a treasonable thought on all this frontier. + +Then, a mile onward, I saw the road cross the canal and run parallel +to it. I saw the canal run another mile or so under a fine bank of +deep woods. I saw an old bridge leading over it to that inviting +shade, and as it was now nearly six and the sun was gathering +strength, I went, with slumber overpowering me and my feet turning +heavy beneath me, along the tow-path, over the bridge, and lay down on +the moss under these delightful trees. Forgetful of the penalty that +such an early repose would bring, and of the great heat that was to +follow at midday, I quickly became part of the life of that forest and +fell asleep. + +When I awoke it was full eight o'clock, and the sun had gained great +power. I saw him shining at me through the branches of my trees like +a patient enemy outside a city that one watches through the loopholes +of a tower, and I began to be afraid of taking the road. I looked +below me down the steep bank between the trunks and saw the canal +looking like black marble, and I heard the buzzing of the flies above +it, and I noted that all the mist had gone. A very long way off, the +noise of its ripples coming clearly along the floor of the water, was +a lazy barge and a horse drawing it. From time to time the tow-rope +slackened into the still surface, and I heard it dripping as it rose. +The rest of the valley was silent except for that under-humming of +insects which marks the strength of the sun. + +Now I saw clearly how difficult it was to turn night into day, for I +found myself condemned either to waste many hours that ought to be +consumed on my pilgrimage, or else to march on under the extreme heat; +and when I had drunk what was left of my Brule wine (which then seemed +delicious), and had eaten a piece of bread, I stiffly jolted down the +bank and regained the highway. + +In the first village I came to I found that Mass was over, and this +justly annoyed me; for what is a pilgrimage in which a man cannot hear +Mass every morning? Of all the things I have read about St Louis which +make me wish I had known him to speak to, nothing seems to me more +delightful than his habit of getting Mass daily whenever he marched +down south, but why this should be so delightful I cannot tell. Of +course there is a grace and influence belonging to such a custom, but +it is not of that I am speaking but of the pleasing sensation of order +and accomplishment which attaches to a day one has opened by Mass; a +purely temporal, and, for all I know, what the monks back at the +ironworks would have called a carnal feeling, but a source of +continual comfort to me. Let them go their way and let me go mine. + +This comfort I ascribe to four causes (just above you will find it +written that I could not tell why this should be so, but what of +that?), and these causes are: + +1. That for half-an-hour just at the opening of the day you are silent +and recollected, and have to put off cares, interests, and passions in +the repetition of a familiar action. This must certainly be a great +benefit to the body and give it tone. + +2. That the Mass is a careful and rapid ritual. Now it is the function +of all ritual (as we see in games, social arrangements and so forth) +to relieve the mind by so much of responsibility and initiative and to +catch you up (as it were) into itself, leading your life for you +during the time it lasts. In this way you experience a singular +repose, after which fallowness I am sure one is fitter for action and +judgement. + +3. That the surroundings incline you to good and reasonable thoughts, +and for the moment deaden the rasp and jar of that busy wickedness +which both working in one's self and received from others is the true +source of all human miseries. Thus the time spent at Mass is like a +short repose in a deep and well-built library, into which no sounds +come and where you feel yourself secure against the outer world. + +4. And the most important cause of this feeling of satisfaction is +that you are doing what the human race has done for thousands upon +thousands upon thousands of years. This is a matter of such moment +that I am astonished people hear of it so little. Whatever is buried +right into our blood from immemorial habit that we must be certain to +do if we are to be fairly happy (of course no grown man or woman can +really be very happy for long--but I mean reasonably happy), and, what +is more important, decent and secure of our souls. Thus one should +from time to time hunt animals, or at the very least shoot at a mark; +one should always drink some kind of fermented liquor with one's +food--and especially deeply upon great feast-days; one should go on +the water from time to time; and one should dance on occasions; and +one should sing in chorus. For all these things man has done since God +put him into a garden and his eyes first became troubled with a soul. +Similarly some teacher or ranter or other, whose name I forget, said +lately one very wise thing at least, which was that every man should +do a little work with his hands. + +Oh! what good philosophy this is, and how much better it would be if +rich people, instead of raining the influence of their rank and +spending their money on leagues for this or that exceptional thing, +were to spend it in converting the middle-class to ordinary living and +to the tradition of the race. Indeed, if I had power for some thirty +years I would see to it that people should be allowed to follow their +inbred instincts in these matters, and should hunt, drink, sing, +dance, sail, and dig; and those that would not should be compelled by +force. + +Now in the morning Mass you do all that the race needs to do and has +done for all these ages where religion was concerned; there you have +the sacred and separate Enclosure, the Altar, the Priest in his +Vestments, the set ritual, the ancient and hierarchic tongue, and all +that your nature cries out for in the matter of worship. + +From these considerations it is easy to understand how put out I was +to find Mass over on this first morning of my pilgrimage. And I went +along the burning road in a very ill-humour till I saw upon my right, +beyond a low wall and in a kind of park, a house that seemed built on +some artificial raised ground surrounded by a wall, but this may have +been an illusion, the house being really only very tall. At any rate I +drew it, and in the village just beyond it I learnt something curious +about the man that owned it. + +For I had gone into a house to take a third meal of bread and wine and +to replenish my bottle when the old woman of the house, who was a +kindly person, told me she had just then no wine. 'But,' said she, 'Mr +So and So that lives in the big house sells it to any one who cares to +buy even in the smallest quantities, and you will see his shed +standing by the side of the road.' + +Everything happened just as she had said. I came to the big shed by +the park wall, and there was a kind of counter made of boards, and +several big tuns and two men: one in an apron serving, and the other +in a little box or compartment writing. I was somewhat timid to ask +for so little as a quart, but the apron man in the most businesslike +way filled my bottle at a tap and asked for fourpence. He was willing +to talk, and told me many things: of good years in wine, of the nature +of their trade, of the influence of the moon on brewing, of the +importance of spigots, and what not; but when I tried to get out of +him whether the owner were an eccentric private gentleman or a +merchant that had the sense to earn little pennies as well as large +ones, I could not make him understand my meaning; for his idea of rank +was utterly different from mine and took no account of idleness and +luxury and daftness, but was based entirely upon money and clothes. +Moreover we were both of us Republicans, so the matter was of no great +moment. Courteously saluting ourselves we parted, he remaining to sell +wine and I hobbling to Rome, now a little painfully and my sack the +heavier by a quart of wine, which, as you probably know, weighs almost +exactly two pounds and a half. + +It was by this time close upon eleven, and I had long reached the +stage when some kinds of men begin talking of Dogged Determination, +Bull-dog pluck, the stubborn spirit of the Island race and so forth, +but when those who can boast a little of the sacred French blood are +in a mood of set despair (both kinds march on, and the mobility of +either infantry is much the same), I say I had long got to this point +of exhaustion when it occurred to me that I should need an excellent +and thorough meal at midday. But on looking at my map I found that +there was nothing nearer than this town of Charmes that was marked on +the milestones, and that was the first place I should come to in the +department of the Vosges. + +It would take much too long to describe the dodges that weary men and +stiff have recourse to when they are at the close of a difficult task: +how they divide it up in lengths in their minds, how they count +numbers, how they begin to solve problems in mental arithmetic: I +tried them all. Then I thought of a new one, which is really +excellent, and which I recommend to the whole world. It is to vary the +road, suddenly taking now the fields, now the river, but only +occasionally the turnpike. This last lap was very well suited for such +a method. The valley had become more like a wide and shallow trench +than ever. The hills on either side were low and exactly even. Up the +middle of it went the river, the canal and the road, and these two +last had only a field between them; now broad, now narrow. + +First on the tow-path, then on the road, then on the grass, then back +on the tow-path, I pieced out the last baking mile into Charmes, that +lies at the foot of a rather higher hill, and at last was dragging +myself up the street just as the bell was ringing the noon Angelus; +nor, however tedious you may have found it to read this final effort +of mine, can you have found it a quarter as wearisome as I did to walk +it; and surely between writer and reader there should be give and +take, now the one furnishing the entertainment and now the other. + +The delightful thing in Charmes is its name. Of this name I had indeed +been thinking as I went along the last miles of that dusty and +deplorable road--that a town should be called 'Charms'. + +Not but that towns, if they are left to themselves and not hurried, +have a way of settling into right names suited to the hills about them +and recalling their own fields. I remember Sussex, and as I remember +it I must, if only for example, set down my roll-call of such names, +as--Fittleworth, where the Inn has painted panels; Amberley in the +marshes; delicate Fernhurst, and Ditchling under its hill; Arundel, +that is well known to every one; and Climping, that no one knows, set +on a lonely beach and lost at the vague end of an impassable road; and +Barlton, and Burton, and Duncton, and Coldwatham, that stand under in +the shadow and look up at the great downs; and Petworth, where the +spire leans sideways; and Timberley, that the floods make into an +island; and No Man's Land, where first there breaks on you the distant +sea. I never knew a Sussex man yet but, if you noted him such a list, +would answer: 'There I was on such and such a day; this I came to +after such and such a run; and that other is my home.' But it is not +his recollection alone which moves him, it is sound of the names. He +feels the accent of them, and all the men who live between Hind-head +and the Channel know these names stand for Eden; the noise is enough +to prove it. So it is also with the hidden valleys of the lie de +France; and when you say Jouy or Chevreuse to a man that was born in +those shadows he grows dreamy--yet they are within a walk of Paris. + +But the wonderful thing about a name like Charmes is that it hands +down the dead. For some dead man gave it a keen name proceeding from +his own immediate delight, and made general what had been a private +pleasure, and, so to speak, bequeathed a poem to his town. They say +the Arabs do this; calling one place 'the rest of the warriors', and +another 'the end', and another 'the surprise of the horses': let those +who know them speak for it. I at least know that in the west of the +Cotentin (a sea-garden) old Danes married to Gaulish women discovered +the just epithet, and that you have 'St Mary on the Hill' and 'High +Town under the Wind' and 'The Borough over the Heath', which are +to-day exactly what their name describes them. If you doubt that +England has such descriptive names, consider the great Truth that at +one junction on a railway where a mournful desolation of stagnant +waters and treeless, stonewalled fields threatens you with experience +and awe, a melancholy porter is told off to put his head into your +carriage and to chant like Charon, 'Change here for Ashton under the +Wood, Moreton on the Marsh, Bourton on the Water, and Stow in the +Wold.' + +Charmes does not fulfil its name nor preserve what its forgotten son +found so wonderful in it. For at luncheon there a great commercial +traveller told me fiercely that it was chiefly known for its +breweries, and that he thought it of little account. Still even in +Charmes I found one marvellous corner of a renaissance house, which I +drew; but as I have lost the drawing, let it go. + +When I came out from the inn of Charmes the heat was more terrible +than ever, and the prospect of a march in it more intolerable. My head +hung, I went very slowly, and I played with cowardly thoughts, which +were really (had I known it) good angels. I began to look out +anxiously for woods, but saw only long whitened wall glaring in the +sun, or, if ever there were trees, they were surrounded by wooden +palisades which the owners had put there. But in a little time (now I +had definitely yielded to temptation) I found a thicket. + +You must know that if you yield to entertaining a temptation, there is +the opportunity presented to you like lightning. A theologian told me +this, and it is partly true: but not of Mammon or Belphegor, or +whatever Devil it is that overlooks the Currency (I can see his face +from here): for how many have yielded to the Desire of Riches and +professed themselves very willing to revel in them, yet did not get an +opportunity worth a farthing till they died? Like those two beggars +that Rabelais tells of, one of whom wished for all the gold that would +pay for all the merchandise that had ever been sold in Paris since its +first foundation, and the other for as much gold as would go into all +the sacks that could be sewn by all the needles (and those of the +smallest size) that could be crammed into Notre-Dame from the floor to +the ceiling, filling the smallest crannies. Yet neither had a crust +that night to rub his gums with. + +Whatever Devil it is, however, that tempts men to repose--and for my +part I believe him to be rather an Aeon than a Devil: that is, a +good-natured fellow working on his own account neither good nor +ill--whatever being it is, it certainly suits one's mood, for I never +yet knew a man determined to be lazy that had not ample opportunity +afforded him, though he were poorer than the cure of Maigre, who +formed a syndicate to sell at a scutcheon a gross such souls as were +too insignificant to sell singly. A man can always find a chance for +doing nothing as amply and with as ecstatic a satisfaction as the +world allows, and so to me (whether it was there before I cannot tell, +and if it came miraculously, so much the more amusing) appeared this +thicket. It was to the left of the road; a stream ran through it in a +little ravine; the undergrowth was thick beneath its birches, and just +beyond, on the plain that bordered it, were reapers reaping in a +field. I went into it contentedly and slept till evening my third +sleep; then, refreshed by the cool wind that went before the twilight, +I rose and took the road again, but I knew I could not go far. + +I was now past my fortieth mile, and though the heat had gone, yet my +dead slumber had raised a thousand evils. I had stiffened to lameness, +and had fallen into the mood when a man desires companionship and the +talk of travellers rather than the open plain. But (unless I went +backward, which was out of the question) there was nowhere to rest in +for a long time to come. The next considerable village was Thayon, +which is called 'Thayon of the Vosges', because one is nearing the big +hills, and thither therefore I crawled mile after mile. + +But my heart sank. First my foot limped, and then my left knee +oppressed me with a sudden pain. I attempted to relieve it by leaning +on my right leg, and so discovered a singular new law in medicine +which I will propose to the scientists. For when those excellent men +have done investigating the twirligigs of the brain to find out where +the soul is, let them consider this much more practical matter, that +you cannot relieve the pain in one limb without driving it into some +other; and so I exchanged twinges in the left knee for a horrible +great pain in the right. I sat down on a bridge, and wondered; I saw +before me hundreds upon hundreds of miles, painful and exhausted, and +I asked heaven if this was necessary to a pilgrimage. (But, as you +shall hear, a pilgrimage is not wholly subject to material laws, for +when I came to Epinal next day I went into a shop which, whatever it +was to the profane, appeared to me as a chemist's shop, where I bought +a bottle of some stuff called 'balm', and rubbing myself with it was +instantly cured.) + +Then I looked down from the bridge across the plain, and saw, a long +way off beyond the railway, the very ugly factory village of Thayon, +and reached it at last, not without noticing that the people were +standing branches of trees before their doors, and the little children +noisily helping to tread the stems firmly into the earth. They told me +it was for the coming of Corpus Christi, and so proved to me that +religion, which is as old as these valleys, would last out their +inhabiting men. Even here, in a place made by a great laundry, a +modern industrial row of tenements, all the world was putting out +green branches to welcome the Procession and the Sacrament and the +Priest. Comforted by this evident refutation of the sad nonsense I had +read in Cities from the pen of intellectuals--nonsense I had known to +be nonsense, but that had none the less tarnished my mind--I happily +entered the inn, ate and drank, praised God, and lay down to sleep in +a great bed. I mingled with my prayers a firm intention of doing the +ordinary things, and not attempting impossibilities, such as marching +by night, nor following out any other vanities of this world. Then, +having cast away all theories of how a pilgrimage should be conducted, +and broken five or six vows, I slept steadily till the middle of the +morning. I had covered fifty miles in twenty-five hours, and if you +imagine this to be but two miles an hour, you must have a very +mathematical mind, and know little of the realities of living. I woke +and threw my shutters open to the bright morning and the masterful +sun, took my coffee, and set out once more towards Epinal, the +stronghold a few miles away--delighted to see that my shadow was so +short and the road so hot to the feet and eyes. For I said, 'This at +least proves that I am doing like all the world, and walking during +the day.' It was but a couple of hours to the great garrison. In a +little time I passed a battery. Then a captain went by on a horse, +with his orderly behind him. Where the deep lock stands by the +roadside--the only suggestion of coolness--I first heard the bugles; +then I came into the long street and determined to explore Epinal, and +to cast aside all haste and folly. + +There are many wonderful things in Epinal. As, for instance, that it +was evidently once, like Paris and Melun and a dozen other strongholds +of the Gauls, an island city. For the rivers of France are full of +long, habitable islands, and these were once the rallying-places of +clans. Then there are the forts which are placed on high hills round +the town and make it even stronger than Toul; for Epinal stands just +where the hills begin to be very high. Again, it is the capital of a +mountain district, and this character always does something peculiar +and impressive to a town. You may watch its effect in Grenoble, in +little Aubusson, and, rather less, in Geneva. + +For in such towns three quite different kinds of men meet. First there +are the old plain-men, who despise the highlanders and think +themselves much grander and more civilized; these are the burgesses. +Then there are the peasants and wood-cutters, who come in from the +hill-country to market, and who are suspicious of the plain-men and +yet proud to depend upon a real town with a bishop and paved streets. +Lastly, there are the travellers, who come there to enjoy the +mountains and to make the city a base for their excursions, and these +love the hill-men and think they understand them, and they despise the +plain-men for being so middle-class as to lord it over the hill-men: +but in truth this third class, being outsiders, are equally hated and +despised by both the others, and there is a combination against them +and they are exploited. + +And there are many other things in which Epinal is wonderful, but in +nothing is it more wonderful than in its great church. + +I suppose that the high Dukes of Burgundy and Lorraine and the rich +men from Flanders and the House of Luxemburg and the rest, going to +Rome, the centre of the world, had often to pass up this valley of the +Moselle, which (as I have said) is a road leading to Rome, and would +halt at fipinal and would at times give money for its church; with +this result, that the church belongs to every imaginable period and is +built anyhow, in twenty styles, but stands as a whole a most enduring +record of past forms and of what has pleased the changing mind when it +has attempted to worship in stone. + +Thus the transept is simply an old square barn of rough stone, older, +I suppose, than Charlemagne and without any ornament. In its lower +courses I thought I even saw the Roman brick. It had once two towers, +northern and southern; the southern is ruined and has a wooden roof, +the northern remains and is just a pinnacle or minaret too narrow for +bells. + +Then the apse is pure and beautiful Gothic of the fourteenth century, +with very tall and fluted windows like single prayers. The ambulatory +is perfectly modern, Gothic also, and in the manner that Viollet le +Duc in France and Pugin in England have introduced to bring us back to +our origins and to remind us of the place whence all we Europeans +came. Again, this apse and ambulatory are not perpendicular to the +transept, but set askew, a thing known in small churches and said to +be a symbol, but surely very rare in large ones. The western door is +purely Romanesque, and has Byzantine ornaments and a great deep round +door. To match it there is a northern door still deeper, with rows and +rows of inner arches full of saints, angels, devils, and flowers; and +this again is not straight, but so built that the arches go aslant, as +you sometimes see railway bridges when they cross roads at an angle. +Finally, there is a central tower which is neither Gothic nor +Romanesque but pure Italian, a loggia, with splendid round airy +windows taking up all its walls, and with a flat roof and eaves. This +some one straight from the south must have put on as a memory of his +wanderings. + +The barn-transept is crumbling old grey stone, the Romanesque porches +are red, like Strasburg, the Gothic apse is old white as our +cathedrals are, the modern ambulatory is of pure white stone just +quarried, and thus colours as well as shapes are mingled up and +different in this astonishing building. + +I drew it from that point of view in the market-place to the +north-east which shows most of these contrasts at once, and you must +excuse the extreme shakiness of the sketch, for it was taken as best I +could on an apple-cart with my book resting on the apples--there was +no other desk. Nor did the apple-seller mind my doing it, but on the +contrary gave me advice and praise saying such things as-- + +'Excellent; you have caught the angle of the apse ... Come now, darken +the edge of that pillar ... I fear you have made the tower a little +confused,' and so forth. + +I offered to buy a few apples off him, but he gave me three instead, +and these, as they incommoded me, I gave later to a little child. + +Indeed the people of Epinal, not taking me for a traveller but simply +for a wandering poor man, were very genial to me, and the best good +they did me was curing my lameness. For, seeing an apothecary's shop +as I was leaving the town, I went in and said to the apothecary-- + +'My knee has swelled and is very painful, and I have to walk far; +perhaps you can tell me how to cure it, or give me something that +will.' + +'There is nothing easier,' he said; 'I have here a specific for the +very thing you complain of.' + +With this he pulled out a round bottle, on the label of which was +printed in great letters, 'BALM'. + +'You have but to rub your knee strongly and long with this ointment of +mine,' he said, 'and you will be cured.' Nor did he mention any +special form of words to be repeated as one did it. + +Everything happened just as he had said. When I was some little way +above the town I sat down on a low wall and rubbed my knee strongly +and long with this balm, and the pain instantly disappeared. Then, +with a heart renewed by this prodigy, I took the road again and began +walking very rapidly and high, swinging on to Rome. + +The Moselle above fipinal takes a bend outwards, and it seemed to me +that a much shorter way to the next village (which is called +Archettes, or 'the very little arches', because there are no arches +there) would be right over the hill round which the river curved. This +error came from following private judgement and not heeding tradition, +here represented by the highroad which closely follows the river. For +though a straight tunnel to Archettes would have saved distance, yet a +climb over that high hill and through the pathless wood on its summit +was folly. + +I went at first over wide, sloping fields, and some hundred feet above +the valley I crossed a little canal. It was made on a very good +system, and I recommend it to the riparian owners of the Upper Wye, +which needs it. They take the water from the Moselle (which is here +broad and torrential and falls in steps, running over a stony bed with +little swirls and rapids), and they lead it along at an even gradient, +averaging, as it were, the uneven descent of the river. In this way +they have a continuous stream running through fields that would +otherwise be bare and dry, but that are thus nourished into excellent +pastures. + +Above these fields the forest went up steeply. I had not pushed two +hundred yards into its gloom and confusion when I discovered that I +had lost my way. It was necessary to take the only guide I had and to +go straight upwards wherever the line of greatest inclination seemed +to lie, for that at least would take me to a summit and probably to a +view of the valley; whereas if I tried to make for the shoulder of the +hill (which had been my first intention) I might have wandered about +till nightfall. + +It was an old man in a valley called the Curicante in Colorado that +taught me this, if one lost one's way going _upwards_ to make at once +along the steepest line, but if one lost it going _downwards_, to +listen for water and reach it and follow it. I wish I had space to +tell all about this old man, who gave me hospitality out there. He was +from New England and was lonely, and had brought out at great expense +a musical box to cheer him. Of this he was very proud, and though it +only played four silly hymn tunes, yet, as he and I listened to it, +heavy tears came into his eyes and light tears into mine, because +these tunes reminded him of his home. But I have no time to do more +than mention him, and must return to my forest. + +I climbed, then, over slippery pine needles and under the charged air +of those trees, which was full of dim, slanting light from the +afternoon sun, till, nearly at the summit, I came upon a clearing +which I at once recognized as a military road, leading to what we used +to call a 'false battery', that is, a dug-out with embrasures into +which guns could be placed but in which no guns were. For ever since +the French managed to produce a really mobile heavy gun they have +constructed any amount of such auxiliary works between the permanent +forts. These need no fixed guns to be emplaced, since the French can +use now one such parapet, now another, as occasion serves, and the +advantage is that your guns are never useless, but can always be +brought round where they are needed, and that thus six guns will do +more work than twenty used to do. + +This false battery was on the brow of the hill, and when I reached it +I looked down the slope, over the brushwood that hid the wire +entanglements, and there was the whole valley of the Moselle at my +feet. + +As this was the first really great height, so this was the first +really great view that I met with on my pilgrimage. I drew it +carefully, piece by piece, sitting there a long time in the declining +sun and noting all I saw. Archettes, just below; the flat valley with +the river winding from side to side; the straight rows of poplar +trees; the dark pines on the hills, and the rounded mountains rising +farther and higher into the distance until the last I saw, far off to +the south-east, must have been the Ballon d'Alsace at the sources of +the Moselle--the hill that marked the first full stage in my journey +and that overlooked Switzerland. + +Indeed, this is the peculiar virtue of walking to a far place, and +especially of walking there in a straight line, that one gets these +visions of the world from hill-tops. + +When I call up for myself this great march I see it all mapped out in +landscapes, each of which I caught from some mountain, and each of +which joins on to that before and to that after it, till I can piece +together the whole road. The view here from the Hill of Archettes, the +view from the Ballon d'Alsace, from Glovelier Hill, from the +Weissenstein, from the Brienzer Grat, from the Grimsel, from above +Bellinzona, from the Princi-pessa, from Tizzano, from the ridge of the +Apennines, from the Wall of Siena, from San Quirico, from Radicofani, +from San Lorenzo, from Monte-fiascone, from above Viterbo, from +Roncigleone, and at last from that lift in the Via Cassia, whence one +suddenly perceives the City. They unroll themselves all in their order +till I can see Europe, and Rome shining at the end. + +But you who go in railways are necessarily shut up in long valleys and +even sometimes by the walls of the earth. Even those who bicycle or +drive see these sights but rarely and with no consecution, since roads +also avoid climbing save where they are forced to it, as over certain +passes. It is only by following the straight line onwards that any one +can pass from ridge to ridge and have this full picture of the way he +has been. + +So much for views. I clambered down the hill to Archettes and saw, +almost the first house, a swinging board 'At the sign of the Trout of +the Vosges', and as it was now evening I turned in there to dine. + +Two things I noticed at once when I sat down to meat. First, that the +people seated at that inn table were of the middle-class of society, +and secondly, that I, though of their rank, was an impediment to their +enjoyment. For to sleep in woods, to march some seventy miles, the +latter part in a dazzling sun, and to end by sliding down an earthy +steep into the road, stamps a man with all that this kind of people +least desire to have thrust upon them. And those who blame the +middle-class for their conventions in such matters, and who profess to +be above the care for cleanliness and clothes and social ritual which +marks the middle-class, are either anarchists by nature, or fools who +take what is but an effect of their wealth for a natural virtue. + +I say it roundly; if it were not for the punctiliousness of the +middle-class in these matters all our civilization would go to pieces. +They are the conservators and the maintainers of the standard, the +moderators of Europe, the salt of society. For the kind of man who +boasts that he does not mind dirty clothes or roughing it, is either a +man who cares nothing for all that civilization has built up and who +rather hates it, or else (and this is much more common) he is a rich +man, or accustomed to live among the rich, and can afford to waste +energy and stuff because he feels in a vague way that more clothes can +always be bought, that at the end of his vagabondism he can get +excellent dinners, and that London and Paris are full of luxurious +baths and barber shops. Of all the corrupting effects of wealth there +is none worse than this, that it makes the wealthy (and their +parasites) think in some way divine, or at least a lovely character of +the mind, what is in truth nothing but their power of luxurious +living. Heaven keep us all from great riches--I mean from very great +riches. + +Now the middle-class cannot afford to buy new clothes whenever they +feel inclined, neither can they end up a jaunt by a Turkish bath and a +great feast with wine. So their care is always to preserve intact what +they happen to have, to exceed in nothing, to study cleanliness, +order, decency, sobriety, and a steady temper, and they fence all this +round and preserve it in the only way it can be preserved, to wit, +with conventions, and they are quite right. + +I find it very hard to keep up to the demands of these my colleagues, +but I recognize that they are on the just side in the quarrel; let +none of them go about pretending that I have not defended them in this +book. + +So I thought of how I should put myself right with these people. I saw +that an elaborate story (as, that I had been set upon by a tramp who +forced me to change clothes: that I dressed thus for a bet: that I was +an officer employed as a spy, and was about to cross the frontier into +Germany in the guise of a labourer: that my doctor forbade me to +shave--or any other such rhodo-montade): I saw, I say, that by +venturing upon any such excuses I might unwittingly offend some other +unknown canon of theirs deeper and more sacred than their rule on +clothes; it had happened to me before now to do this in the course of +explanations. + +So I took another method, and said, as I sat down-- + +'Pray excuse this appearance of mine. I have had a most unfortunate +adventure in the hills, losing my way and being compelled to sleep out +all night, nor can I remain to get tidy, as it is essential that I +should reach my luggage (which is at Remiremont) before midnight.' + +I took great care to pay for my glass of white wine before dinner with +a bank-note, and I showed my sketches to my neighbour to make an +impression. I also talked of foreign politics, of the countries I had +seen, of England especially, with such minute exactitude that their +disgust was soon turned to admiration. + +The hostess of this inn was delicate and courteous to a degree, and at +every point attempting to overreach her guests, who, as regularly as +she attacked, countered with astonishing dexterity. + +Thus she would say: 'Perhaps the joint would taste better if it were +carved on the table; or do the gentlemen prefer it carved aside?' + +To which a banker opposite me said in a deep voice: 'We prefer, madam, +to have it carved aside.' + +Or she would put her head in and say: 'I can recommend our excellent +beer. It is really preferable to this local wine.' + +And my neighbour, a tourist, answered with decision: 'Madame, we find +your wine excellent. It could not be bettered.' + +Nor could she get round them on a single point, and I pitied her so +much that I bought bread and wine off her to console her, and I let +her overcharge me, and went out into the afterglow with her +benediction, followed also by the farewells of the middle-class, who +were now taking their coffee at little tables outside the house. + +I went hard up the road to Remiremont. The night darkened. I reached +Remiremont at midnight, and feeling very wakeful I pushed on up the +valley under great woods of pines; and at last, diverging up a little +path, I settled on a clump of trees sheltered and, as I thought, warm, +and lay down there to sleep till morning; but, on the contrary, I lay +awake a full hour in the fragrance and on the level carpet of the pine +needles looking up through the dark branches at the waning moon, which +had just risen, and thinking of how suitable were pine-trees for a man +to sleep under. + +'The beech,' I thought, 'is a good tree to sleep under, for nothing +will grow there, and there is always dry beech-mast; the yew would be +good if it did not grow so low, but, all in all, pine-trees are the +best.' I also considered that the worst tree to sleep under would be +the upas tree. These thoughts so nearly bordered on nothing that, +though I was not sleepy, yet I fell asleep. Long before day, the moon +being still lustrous against a sky that yet contained a few faint +stars, I awoke shivering with cold. + +In sleep there is something diminishes us. This every one has noticed; +for who ever suffered a nightmare awake, or felt in full consciousness +those awful impotencies which lie on the other side of slumber? When +we lie down we give ourselves voluntarily, yet by the force of nature, +to powers before which we melt and are nothing. And among the strange +frailties of sleep I have noticed cold. + +Here was a warm place under the pines where I could rest in great +comfort on pine needles still full of the day; a covering for the +beasts underground that love an even heat--the best of floors for a +tired man. Even the slight wind that blew under the waning moon was +warm, and the stars were languid and not brilliant, as though +everything were full of summer, and I knew that the night would be +short; a midsummer night; and I had lived half of it before attempting +repose. Yet, I say, I woke shivering and also disconsolate, needing +companionship. I pushed down through tall, rank grass, drenched with +dew, and made my way across the road to the bank of the river. By the +time I reached it the dawn began to occupy the east. + +For a long time I stood in a favoured place, just above a bank of +trees that lined the river, and watched the beginning of the day, +because every slow increase of light promised me sustenance. + +The faint, uncertain glimmer that seemed not so much to shine through +the air as to be part of it, took all colour out of the woods and +fields and the high slopes above me, leaving them planes of grey and +deeper grey. The woods near me were a silhouette, black and +motionless, emphasizing the east beyond. The river was white and +dead, not even a steam rose from it, but out of the further pastures a +gentle mist had lifted up and lay all even along the flanks of the +hills, so that they rose out of it, indistinct at their bases, +clear-cut above against the brightening sky; and the farther they were +the more their mouldings showed in the early light, and the most +distant edges of all caught the morning. + +At this wonderful sight I gazed for quite half-an-hour without moving, +and took in vigour from it as a man takes in food and wine. When I +stirred and looked about me it had become easy to see the separate +grasses; a bird or two had begun little interrupted chirrups in the +bushes, a day-breeze broke from up the valley ruffling the silence, +the moon was dead against the sky, and the stars had disappeared. In a +solemn mood I regained the road and turned my face towards the +neighbouring sources of the river. + +I easily perceived with each laborious mile that I was approaching the +end of my companionship with the Moselle, which had become part of my +adventure for the last eighty miles. It was now a small stream, +mountainous and uncertain, though in parts still placid and slow. +There appeared also that which I take to be an infallible +accompaniment of secluded glens and of the head waters of rivers +(however canalized or even overbuilt they are), I mean a certain +roughness all about them and the stout protest of the hill-men: their +stone cottages and their lonely paths off the road. + +So it was here. The hills had grown much higher and come closer to the +river-plain; up the gullies I would catch now and then an aged and +uncouth bridge with a hut near it all built of enduring stone: part of +the hills. Then again there were present here and there on the spurs +lonely chapels, and these in Catholic countries are a mark of the +mountains and of the end of the riches of a valley. Why this should be +so I cannot tell. You find them also sometimes in forests, but +especially in the lesser inlets of the sea-coast, and, as I have said, +here in the upper parts of valleys in the great hills. In such shrines +Mass is to be said but rarely, sometimes but once a year in a special +commemoration. The rest of the time they stand empty, and some of the +older or simpler, one might take for ruins. They mark everywhere some +strong emotion of supplication, thanks, or reverence, and they anchor +these wild places to their own past, making them up in memories what +they lack in multitudinous life. + +I broke my fast on bread and wine at a place where the road crosses +the river, and then I determined I would have hot coffee as well, and +seeing in front of me a village called Rupt, which means 'the cleft' +(for there is here a great cleft in the hillside), I went up to it and +had my coffee. Then I discovered a singular thing, that the people of +the place are tired of making up names and give nothing its peculiar +baptism. This I thought really very wonderful indeed, for I have +noticed wherever I have been that in proportion as men are remote and +have little to distract them, in that proportion they produce a great +crop of peculiar local names for every stream, reach, tuft, hummock, +glen, copse, and gully for miles around; and often when I have lost my +way and asked it of a peasant in some lonely part I have grown +impatient as he wandered on about 'leaving on your left the stone we +call the Nuggin, and bearing round what some call Holy Dyke till you +come to what they call Mary's Ferry'... and so forth. Long-shoremen +and the riparian inhabitants of dreadful and lonely rivers near the +sea have just such a habit, and I have in my mind's eye now a short +stretch of tidal water in which there are but five shoals, yet they +all have names, and are called 'The House, the Knowle, Goodman's Plot, +Mall, and the Patch.' + +But here in Rupt, to my extreme astonishment, there was no such +universal and human instinct. For I said to the old man who poured me +out my coffee under the trellis (it was full morning, the sun was well +up, and the clouds were all dappled high above the tops of the +mountains): 'Father, what do you call this hill?' And with that I +pointed to a very remarkable hill and summit that lie sheer above the +village. + +'That,' he said, 'is called the hill over above Rupt.' + +'Yes, of course,' I said, 'but what is its name?' + +'That is its name,' he answered. + +And he was quite right, for when I looked at my map, there it was +printed, 'Hill above Rupt'. I thought how wearisome it would be if +this became a common way of doing things, and if one should call the +Thames 'the River of London', and Essex 'the North side', and Kent +'the South side'; but considering that this fantastic method was only +indulged in by one wretched village, I released myself from fear, +relegated such horrors to the colonies, and took the road again. + +All this upper corner of the valley is a garden. It is bound in on +every side from the winds, it is closed at the end by the great mass +of the Ballon d'Alsace, its floor is smooth and level, its richness is +used to feed grass and pasturage, and knots of trees grow about it as +though they had been planted to please the eye. + +Nothing can take from the sources of rivers their character of +isolation and repose. Here what are afterwards to become the +influences of the plains are nurtured and tended as though in an +orchard, and the future life of a whole fruitful valley with its regal +towns is determined. Something about these places prevents ingress or +spoliation. They will endure no settlements save of peasants; the +waters are too young to be harnessed; the hills forbid an easy +commerce with neighbours. Throughout the world I have found the heads +of rivers to be secure places of silence and content. And as they are +themselves a kind of youth, the early home of all that rivers must at +last become--I mean special ways of building and a separate state of +living, a local air and a tradition of history, for rivers are always +the makers of provinces--so they bring extreme youth back to one, and +these upper glens of the world steep one in simplicity and childhood. + +It was my delight to lie upon a bank of the road and to draw what I +saw before me, which was the tender stream of the Moselle slipping +through fields quite flat and even and undivided by fences; its banks +had here a strange effect of Nature copying man's art: they seemed a +park, and the river wound through it full of the positive innocence +that attaches to virgins: it nourished and was guarded by trees. + +There was about that scene something of creation and of a beginning, +and as I drew it, it gave me like a gift the freshness of the first +experiences of living and filled me with remembered springs. I mused +upon the birth of rivers, and how they were persons and had a +name--were kings, and grew strong and ruled great countries, and how +at last they reached the sea. + +But while I was thinking of these things, and seeing in my mind a kind +of picture of The River Valley, and of men clustering around their +home stream, and of its ultimate vast plains on either side, and of +the white line of the sea beyond all, a woman passed me. She was very +ugly, and was dressed in black. Her dress was stiff and shining, and, +as I imagined, valuable. She had in her hand a book known to the +French as 'The Roman Parishioner', which is a prayer-book. Her hair +was hidden in a stiff cap or bonnet; she walked rapidly, with her eyes +on the ground. When I saw this sight it reminded me suddenly, and I +cried out profanely, 'Devil take me! It is Corpus Christi, and my +third day out. It would be a wicked pilgrimage if I did not get Mass +at last.' For my first day (if you remember) I had slept in a wood +beyond Mass-time, and my second (if you remember) I had slept in a +bed. But this third day, a great Feast into the bargain, I was bound +to hear Mass, and this woman hurrying along to the next village proved +that I was not too late. + +So I hurried in her wake and came to the village, and went into the +church, which was very full, and came down out of it (the Mass was low +and short--they are a Christian people) through an avenue of small +trees and large branches set up in front of the houses to welcome the +procession that was to be held near noon. At the foot of the street +was an inn where I entered to eat, and finding there another man--I +take him to have been a shopkeeper--I determined to talk politics, and +began as follows: + +'Have you any anti-Semitism in your town?' + +'It is not my town,' he said, 'but there is anti-Semitism. It +flourishes.' + +'Why then?' I asked. 'How many Jews have you in your town?' + +He said there were seven. + +'But,' said I, 'seven families of Jews--' + +'There are not seven families,' he interrupted; 'there are seven Jews +all told. There are but two families, and I am reckoning in the +children. The servants are Christians.' + +'Why,' said I, 'that is only just and proper, that the Jewish families +from beyond the frontier should have local Christian people to wait on +them and do their bidding. But what I was going to say was that so +very few Jews seem to me an insufficient fuel to fire the +anti-Semites. How does their opinion flourish?' + +'In this way,' he answered. 'The Jews, you see, ridicule our young men +for holding such superstitions as the Catholic. Our young men, thus +brought to book and made to feel irrational, admit the justice of the +ridicule, but nourish a hatred secretly for those who have exposed +their folly. Therefore they feel a standing grudge against the Jews.' + +When he had given me this singular analysis of that part of the +politics of the mountains, he added, after a short silence, the +following remarkable phrase-- + +'For my part I am a liberal, and would have each go his own way: the +Catholic to his Mass, the Jew to his Sacrifice.' + +I then rose from my meal, saluted him, and went musing up the valley +road, pondering upon what it could be that the Jews sacrificed in this +remote borough, but I could not for the life of me imagine what it +was, though I have had a great many Jews among my friends. + +I was now arrived at the head of this lovely vale, at the sources of +the river Moselle and the base of the great mountain the Ballon +d'Alsace, which closes it in like a wall at the end of a lane. For +some miles past the hills had grown higher and higher upon either +side, the valley floor narrower, the torrent less abundant; there now +stood up before me the marshy slopes and the enormous forests of pine +that forbid a passage south. Up through these the main road has been +pierced, tortuous and at an even gradient mile after mile to the very +top of the hill; for the Ballon d'Alsace is so shaped that it is +impossible for the Moselle valley to communicate with the Gap of +Belfort save by some track right over its summit. For it is a mountain +with spurs like a star, and where mountains of this kind block the end +of main valleys it becomes necessary for the road leading up and out +of the valley to go over their highest point, since any other road +over the passes or shoulders would involve a second climb to reach the +country beyond. The reason of this, my little map here, where the dark +stands for the valley and the light for the high places, will show +better than a long description. Not that this map is of the Ballon +d'Alsace in particular, but only of the type of hill I mean. + +Since, in crossing a range, it is usually possible to find a low point +suitable for surmounting it, such summit roads are rare, but when one +does get them they are the finest travel in the world, for they +furnish at one point (that is, at the summit) what ordinary roads +going through passes can never give you: a moment of domination. From +their climax you look over the whole world, and you feel your journey +to be adventurous and your advance to have taken some great definite +step from one province and people to another. + +I would not be bound by the exaggerated zig-zags of the road, which +had been built for artillery, and rose at an easy slope. I went along +the bed of the dell before me and took the forest by a little path +that led straight upward, and when the path failed, my way was marked +by the wire of the telegraph that crosses to Belfort. As I rose I saw +the forest before me grow grander. The pine branches came down from +the trunks with a greater burden and majesty in their sway, the trees +took on an appearance of solemnity, and the whole rank that faced +me--for here the woods come to an even line and stand like an army +arrested upon a downward march--seemed something unusual and +gigantic. Nothing more helped this impression of awe than the extreme +darkness beneath those aged growths, and the change in the sky that +introduced my entry into the silence and perfume of so vast a temple. +Great clouds, so charged with rain that you would have thought them +lower than the hills (and yet just missing their tops), came covering +me like a tumbled roof and gathered all around; the heat of the day +waned suddenly in their shade: it seemed suddenly as though summer was +over or as though the mountains demanded an uncertain summer of their +own, and shot the sunshine with the chill of their heights. A little +wind ran along the grass and died again. As I gained the darkness of +the first trees, rain was falling. + +The silence of the interior wood was enhanced by a bare drip of water +from the boughs that stood out straight and tangled I know not how far +above me. Its gloom was rendered more tremendous by the half-light +and lowering of the sky which the ceiling of branches concealed. +Height, stillness, and a sort of expectancy controlled the memories of +the place, and I passed silently and lightly between the high columns +of the trees from night (as it seemed) through a kind of twilight +forward to a near night beyond. On every side the perspective of these +bare innumerable shafts, each standing apart in order, purple and +fragrant, merged into recesses of distance where all light +disappeared, yet as I advanced the slight gloaming still surrounded +me, as did the stillness framed in the drip of water, and beneath my +feet was the level carpet of the pine needles deadening and making +distant every tiny noise. Had not the trees been so much greater and +more enduring than my own presence, and had not they overwhelmed me by +their regard, I should have felt afraid. As it was I pushed upward +through their immovable host in some such catching of the breath as +men have when they walk at night straining for a sound, and I felt +myself to be continually in a hidden companionship. + +When I came to the edge of this haunted forest it ceased as suddenly +as it had begun. I left behind me such a rank of trees aligned as I +had entered thousands of feet below, and I saw before me, stretching +shapely up to the sky, the round dome-like summit of the mountain--a +great field of grass. It was already evening; and, as though the tall +trees had withdrawn their virtue from me, my fatigue suddenly came +upon me. My feet would hardly bear me as I clambered up the last +hundred feet and looked down under the rolling clouds, lit from +beneath by the level light of evening, to the three countries that met +at my feet. + +For the Ballon d'Alsace is the knot of Europe, and from that gathering +up and ending of the Vosges you look down upon three divisions of men. +To the right of you are the Gauls. I do not mean that mixed breed of +Lorraine, silent, among the best of people, but I mean the tree Gauls, +who are hot, ready, and born in the plains and in the vineyards. They +stand in their old entrenchments on either side of the Saone and are +vivacious in battle; from time to time a spirit urges them, and they +go out conquering eastward in the Germanics, or in Asia, or down the +peninsulas of the Mediterranean, and then they suck back like a tide +homewards, having accomplished nothing but an epic. + +Then on the left you have all the Germanics, a great sea of confused +and dreaming people, lost in philosophies and creating music, frozen +for the moment under a foreign rigidity, but some day to thaw again +and to give a word to us others. They cannot long remain apart from +visions. + +Then in front of you southward and eastward, if you are marching to +Rome, come the Highlanders. I had never been among them, and I was to +see them in a day; the people of the high hills, the race whom we all +feel to be enemies, and who run straight across the world from the +Atlantic to the Pacific, understanding each other, not understood by +us. I saw their first rampart, the mountains called the Jura, on the +horizon, and above my great field of view the clouds still tumbled, +lit from beneath with evening. + +I tired of these immensities, and, feeling now my feet more broken +than ever, I very slowly and in sharp shoots of pain dragged down the +slope towards the main road: I saw just below me the frontier stones +of the Prussians, and immediately within them a hut. To this I +addressed myself. + +It was an inn. The door opened of itself, and I found there a pleasant +woman of middle age, but frowning. She had three daughters, all of +great strength, and she was upbraiding them loudly in the German of +Alsace and making them scour and scrub. On the wall above her head was +a great placard which I read very tactfully, and in a distant manner, +until she had restored the discipline of her family. This great +placard was framed in the three colours which once brought a little +hope to the oppressed, and at the head of it in broad black letters +were the three words, 'Freedom, Brotherhood, and an Equal Law'. +Underneath these was the emblematic figure of a cock, which I took to +be the Gallic bird, and underneath him again was printed in enormous +italics-- + + Quand ce coq chantera + Ici credit l'on fera. + +Which means-- + + When you hear him crowing + Then's the time for owing. + Till that day--Pay. + +While I was still wondering at this epitome of the French people, and +was attempting to combine the French military tradition with the +French temper in the affairs of economics; while I was also delighting +in the memory of the solid coin that I carried in a little leathern +bag in my pocket, the hard-working, God-fearing, and honest woman that +governs the little house and the three great daughters, within a yard +of the frontier, and on the top of this huge hill, had brought back +all her troops into line and had the time to attend to me. This she +did with the utmost politeness, though cold by race, and through her +politeness ran a sense of what Teutons called Duty, which would once +have repelled me; but I have wandered over a great part of the world, +and I know it now to be a distorted kind of virtue. + +She was of a very different sort from that good tribe of the Moselle +valley beyond the hill; yet she also was Catholic--(she had a little +tree set up before her door for the Corpus Christi: see what religion +is, that makes people of utterly different races understand each +other; for when I saw that tree I knew precisely where I stood. So +once all we Europeans understood each other, but now we are divided by +the worst malignancies of nations and classes, and a man does not so +much love his own nation as hate his neighbours, and even the twilight +of chivalry is mixed up with a detestable patronage of the poor. But +as I was saying--) she also was a Catholic, and I knew myself to be +with friends. She was moreover not exactly of--what shall I say? the +words Celtic and Latin mean nothing--not of those who delight in a +delicate manner; and her good heart prompted her to say, very loudly-- + +'What do you want?' + +'I want a bed,' I said, and I pulled out a silver coin. 'I must lie +down at once.' + +Then I added, 'Can you make omelettes?' + +Now it is a curious thing, and one I will not dwell on-- + +LECTOR. You do nothing but dwell. + +AUCTOR. It is the essence of lonely travel; and if you have come to +this book for literature you have come to the wrong booth and counter. +As I was saying: it is a curious thing that some people (or races) +jump from one subject to another naturally, as some animals (I mean +the noble deer) go by bounds. While there are other races (or +individuals--heaven forgive me, I am no ethnologist) who think you a +criminal or a lunatic unless you carefully plod along from step to +step like a hippopotamus out of water. When, therefore, I asked this +family-drilling, house-managing, mountain-living woman whether she +could make omelettes, she shook her head at me slowly, keeping her +eyes fixed on mine, and said in what was the corpse of French with a +German ghost in it, 'The bed is a franc.' + +'Motherkin,' I answered, 'what I mean is that I would sleep until I +wake, for I have come a prodigious distance and have last slept in the +woods. But when I wake I shall need food, for which,' I added, pulling +out yet another coin, 'I will pay whatever your charge may be; for a +more delightful house I have rarely met with. I know most people do +not sleep before sunset, but I am particularly tired and broken.' + +She showed me my bed then much more kindly, and when I woke, which was +long after dusk, she gave me in the living room of the hut eggs beaten +up with ham, and I ate brown bread and said grace. + +Then (my wine was not yet finished, but it is an abominable thing to +drink your own wine in another person's house) I asked whether I could +have something to drink. + +'What you like,' she said. + +'What have you?' said I. + +'Beer,' said she. + +'Anything else?' said I. + +'No,' said she. + +'Why, then, give me some of that excellent beer.' + +I drank this with delight, paid all my bill (which was that of a +labourer), and said good-night to them. + +In good-nights they had a ceremony; for they all rose together and +curtsied. Upon my soul I believe such people to be the salt of the +earth. I bowed with real contrition, for at several moments I had +believed myself better than they. Then I went to my bed and they to +theirs. The wind howled outside; my boots were stiff like wood and I +could hardly take them off; my feet were so martyrized that I doubted +if I could walk at all on the morrow. Nevertheless I was so wrapped +round with the repose of this family's virtues that I fell asleep at +once. Next day the sun was rising in angry glory over the very distant +hills of Germany, his new light running between the pinnacles of the +clouds as the commands of a conqueror might come trumpeted down the +defiles of mountains, when I fearlessly forced my boots on to my feet +and left their doors. + +The morning outside came living and sharp after the gale--almost +chilly. Under a scattered but clearing sky I first limped, then, as +my blood warmed, strode down the path that led between the trees of +the farther vale and was soon following a stream that leaped from one +fall to another till it should lead me to the main road, to Belfort, +to the Jura, to the Swiss whom I had never known, and at last to +Italy. + +But before I call up the recollection of that hidden valley, I must +describe with a map the curious features of the road that lay before +me into Switzerland. I was standing on the summit of that knot of +hills which rise up from every side to form the Ballon d'Alsace, and +make an abrupt ending to the Vosges. Before me, southward and +eastward, was a great plain with the fortress of Belfort in the midst +of it. This plain is called by soldiers 'the Gap of Belfort', and is +the only break in the hill frontier that covers France all the way +from the Mediterranean to Flanders. On the farther side of this plain +ran the Jura mountains, which are like a northern wall to Switzerland, +and just before you reach them is the Frontier. The Jura are fold on +fold of high limestone ridges, thousands of feet high, all parallel, +with deep valleys, thousands of feet deep, between them; and beyond +their last abrupt escarpment is the wide plain of the river Aar. + +Now the straight line to Rome ran from where I stood, right across +that plain of Belfort, right across the ridges of the Jura, and cut +the plain of the Aar a few miles to the west of a town called +Solothurn or Soleure, which stands upon that river. + +It was impossible to follow that line exactly, but one could average +it closely enough by following the high road down the mountain through +Belfort to a Swiss town called Porrentruy or Portrut--so far one was a +little to the west of the direct line. + +From Portrut, by picking one's way through forests, up steep banks, +over open downs, along mule paths, and so forth, one could cross the +first ridge called the 'Terrible Hill', and so reach the profound +gorge of the river Doubs, and a town called St Ursanne. From St +Ursanne, by following a mountain road and then climbing some rocks and +tracking through a wood, one could get straight over the second ridge +to Glovelier. From Glovelier a highroad took one through a gap to +Undervelier and on to a town called Moutier or Munster. Then from +Munster, the road, still following more or less the line to Rome but +now somewhat to the east of it, went on southward till an abrupt turn +in it forced one to leave it. Then there was another rough climb by a +difficult path up over the last ridge, called the Weissenstein, and +from its high edge and summit it was but a straight fall of a mile or +two on to Soleure. + +So much my map told me, and this mixture of roads and paths and rock +climbs that I had planned out, I exactly followed, so as to march on +as directly as possible towards Rome, which was my goal. For if I had +not so planned it, but had followed the highroads, I should have been +compelled to zig-zag enormously for days, since these ridges of the +Jura are but little broken, and the roads do not rise above the +crests, but follow the parallel valleys, taking advantage only here +and there of the rare gaps to pass from one to another. + +Here is a sketch of the way I went, where my track is a white line, +and the round spots in it are the towns and villages whose names are +written at the side. In this sketch the plains and low valleys are +marked dark, and the crests of the mountains left white. The shading +is lighter according to the height, and the contour lines (which are +very far from accurate) represent, I suppose, about a thousand feet +between each, or perhaps a little more; and as for the distance, from +the Ballon d'Alsace to Soleure might be two long days' march on a flat +road, but over mountains and up rocks it was all but three, and even +that was very good going. My first stage was across the plain of +Belfort, and I had determined to sleep that night in Switzerland. + +I wandered down the mountain. A little secret path, one of many, saved +me the long windings of the road. It followed down the central hollow +of the great cleft and accompanied the stream. All the way for miles +the water tumbled in fall after fall over a hundred steps of rock, and +its noise mixed with the freshness of the air, and its splashing +weighted the overhanging branches of the trees. A little rain that +fell from time to time through the clear morning seemed like a sister +to the spray of the waterfalls; and what with all this moisture and +greenery, and the surrounding silence, all the valley was inspired +with content. It was a repose to descend through its leaves and +grasses, and find the lovely pastures at the foot of the descent, a +narrow floor between the hills. Here there were the first houses of +men; and, from one, smoke was already going up thinly into the +morning. The air was very pure and cold; it was made more nourishing +and human by the presence and noise of the waters, by the shining wet +grasses and the beaded leaves all through that umbrageous valley. The +shreds of clouds which, high above the calm, ran swiftly in the upper +air, fed it also with soft rains from time to time as fine as dew; and +through those clear and momentary showers one could see the sunlight. + +When I had enjoyed the descent through this place for but a few miles, +everything changed. The road in front ran straight and bordered--it +led out and onwards over a great flat, set here and there with +hillocks. The Vosges ended abruptly. Houses came more thickly, and by +the ceaseless culture of the fields, by the flat slate roofs, the +white-washed walls, and the voices, and the glare, I knew myself to be +once more in France of the plains; and the first town I came to was +Giromagny. + +Here, as I heard a bell, I thought I would go up and hear Mass; and I +did so, but my attention at the holy office was distracted by the +enormous number of priests that I found in the church, and I have +wondered painfully ever since how so many came to be in a little place +like Giromagny. There were three priests at the high altar, and nearly +one for each chapel, and there was such a buzz of Masses going on, +beginning and ending, that I am sure I need not have gone without my +breakfast in my hurry to get one. With all this there were few people +at Mass so early; nothing but these priests going in and out, and +continual little bells. I am still wondering. Giromagny is no place +for relics or for a pilgrimage, it cures no one, and has nothing of a +holy look about it, and all these priests-- + +LECTOR. Pray dwell less on your religion, and-- + +AUCTOR. Pray take books as you find them, and treat travel as travel. +For you, when you go to a foreign country, see nothing but what you +expect to see. But I am astonished at a thousand accidents, and always +find things twenty-fold as great as I supposed they would be, and far +more curious; the whole covered by a strange light of adventure. And +that is the peculiar value of this book. Now, if you can explain these +priests--- + +LECTOR. I can. It was the season of the year, and they were swarming. + +AUCTOR. So be it. Then if you will hear nothing of what interests me, +I see no reason for setting down with minute care what interests you, +and I may leave out all mention of the Girl who could only speak +German, of the Arrest of the Criminal, and even of the House of +Marshal Turenne--- this last something quite exceptionally +entertaining. But do not let us continue thus, nor push things to an +open quarrel. You must imagine for yourself about six miles of road, +and then--then in the increasing heat, the dust rising in spite of the +morning rain, and the road most wearisome, I heard again the sound of +bugles and the sombre excitement of the drums. + +It is a thought-provoking thing, this passing from one great garrison +to another all the way down the frontier. I had started from the busy +order of Toul; I had passed through the silence and peace of all that +Moselle country, the valley like a long garden, and I had come to the +guns and the tramp of Epinal. I had left Epinal and counted the miles +and miles of silence in the forests, I had crossed the great hills and +come down into quite another plain draining to another sea, and I +heard again all the clamour that goes with soldiery, and looking +backward then over my four days, one felt--one almost saw--the new +system of fortification, the vast entrenched camps each holding an +army, the ungarnished gaps between. + +As I came nearer to Belfort, I saw the guns going at a trot down a +side road, and, a little later, I saw marching on my right, a long way +off, the irregular column, the dust and the invincible gaiety of the +French line. The sun here and there glinted on the ends of +rifle-barrels and the polished pouches. Their heavy pack made their +tramp loud and thudding. They were singing a song. + +I had already passed the outer forts; I had noted a work close to the +road; I had gone on a mile or so and had entered the long and ugly +suburb where the tramway lines began, when, on one of the ramshackle +houses of that burning, paved, and noisy endless street, I saw written +up the words, + +Wine; shut or open. + +As it is a great rule to examine every new thing, and to suck honey +out of every flower, I did not--as some would--think the phrase odd +and pass on. I stood stock-still gazing at the house and imagining a +hundred explanations. I had never in my life heard wine divided into +shut and open wine. I determined to acquire yet one more great +experience, and going in I found a great number of tin cans, such as +the French carry up water in, without covers, tapering to the top, and +standing about three feet high; on these were pasted large printed +labels, '30', '40', and '50', and they were brimming with wine. I +spoke to the woman, and pointing at the tin cans, said-- + +'Is this what you call open wine?' + +'Why, yes,' said she. 'Cannot you see for yourself that it is open?' + +That was true enough, and it explained a great deal. But it did not +explain how--seeing that if you leave a bottle of wine uncorked for +ten minutes you spoil it--you can keep gallons of it in a great wide +can, for all the world like so much milk, milked from the Panthers of +the God. I determined to test the prodigy yet further, and choosing +the middle price, at fourpence a quart, I said-- + +'Pray give me a hap'orth in a mug.' + +This the woman at once did, and when I came to drink it, it was +delicious. Sweet, cool, strong, lifting the heart, satisfying, and +full of all those things wine-merchants talk of, bouquet, and body, +and flavour. It was what I have heard called a very pretty wine. + +I did not wait, however, to discuss the marvel, but accepted it as one +of those mysteries of which this pilgrimage was already giving me +examples, and of which more were to come--(wait till you hear about +the brigand of Radicofani). I said to myself-- + +'When I get out of the Terre Majeure, and away from the strong and +excellent government of the Republic, when I am lost in the Jura Hills +to-morrow there will be no such wine as this.' + +So I bought a quart of it, corked it up very tight, put it in my sack, +and held it in store against the wineless places on the flanks of the +hill called Terrible, where there are no soldiers, and where Swiss is +the current language. Then I went on into the centre of the town. + +As I passed over the old bridge into the market-place, where I +proposed to lunch (the sun was terrible--it was close upon eleven), I +saw them building parallel with that old bridge a new one to replace +it. And the way they build a bridge in Belfort is so wonderfully +simple, and yet so new, that it is well worth telling. + +In most places when a bridge has to be made, there is an infinite +pother and worry about building the piers, coffer-dams, and heaven +knows what else. Some swing their bridges to avoid this trouble, and +some try to throw an arch of one span from side to side. There are a +thousand different tricks. In Belfort they simply wait until the water +has run away. Then a great brigade of workmen run down into the dry +bed of the river and dig the foundations feverishly, and begin +building the piers in great haste. Soon the water comes back, but the +piers are already above it, and the rest of the work is done from +boats. This is absolutely true. Not only did I see the men in the bed +of the river, but a man whom I asked told me that it seemed to him the +most natural way to build bridges, and doubted if they were ever made +in any other fashion. + +There is also in Belfort a great lion carved in rock to commemorate +the siege of 1870. This lion is part of the precipice under the +castle, and is of enormous size--- how large I do not know, but I saw +that a man looked quite small by one of his paws. The precipice was +first smoothed like a stone slab or tablet, and then this lion was +carved into and out of it in high relief by Bartholdi, the same man +that made the statue of Liberty in New York Harbour. + +The siege of 1870 has been fixed for history in yet another way, and +one that shows you how the Church works on from one stem continually. +For there is a little church somewhere near or in Belfort (I do not +know where, I only heard of it) which, a local mason and painter being +told to decorate for so much, he amused himself by painting all round +it little pictures of the siege--of the cold, and the wounds, and the +heroism. This is indeed the way such things should be done, I mean by +men doing them for pleasure and of their own thought. And I have a +number of friends who agree with me in thinking this, that art should +not be competitive or industrial, but most of them go on to the very +strange conclusion that one should not own one's garden, nor one's +beehive, nor one's great noble house, nor one's pigsty, nor one's +railway shares, nor the very boots on one's feet. I say, out upon such +nonsense. Then they say to me, what about the concentration of the +means of production? And I say to them, what about the distribution of +the ownership of the concentrated means of production? And they shake +their heads sadly, and say it would never endure; and I say, try it +first and see. Then they fly into a rage. + +When I lunched in Belfort (and at lunch, by the way, a poor man asked +me to use _all my influence_ for his son, who was an engineer in the +navy, and this he did because I had been boasting of my travels, +experiences, and grand acquaintances throughout the world)--when, I +say, I had lunched in a workman's cafe at Belfort, I set out again on +my road, and was very much put out to find that showers still kept on +falling. + +In the early morning, under such delightful trees, up in the +mountains, the branches had given me a roof, the wild surroundings +made me part of the out-of-doors, and the rain had seemed to marry +itself to the pastures and the foaming beck. But here, on a road and +in a town, all its tradition of discomfort came upon me. I was angry, +therefore, with the weather and the road for some miles, till two +things came to comfort me. First it cleared, and a glorious sun showed +me from a little eminence the plain of Alsace and the mountains of the +Vosges all in line; secondly, I came to a vast powder-magazine. + +To most people there is nothing more subtle or pleasing in a +powder-magazine than in a reservoir. They are both much the same in +the mere exterior, for each is a flat platform, sloping at the sides +and covered with grass, and each has mysterious doors. But, for my +part, I never see a powder-magazine without being filled at once with +two very good feelings--- laughter and companionship. For it was my +good fortune, years and years ago, to be companion and friend to two +men who were on sentry at a powder-magazine just after there had been +some anarchist attempts (as they call them) upon such depots--and for +the matter of that I can imagine nothing more luscious to the +anarchist than seven hundred and forty-two cases of powder and fifty +cases of melinite all stored in one place. And to prevent the enormous +noise, confusion, and waste that would have resulted from the +over-attraction of this base of operations to the anarchists, my two +friends, one of whom was a duty-doing Burgundian, but the other a +loose Parisian man, were on sentry that night. They had strict orders +to challenge once and then to fire. + +Now, can you imagine anything more exquisite to a poor devil of a +conscript, fagged out with garrison duty and stale sham-fighting, than +an order of that kind? So my friends took it, and in one summer night +they killed a donkey and wounded two mares, and broke the thin stem of +a growing tree. + +This powder-magazine was no exception to my rule, for as I approached +it I saw a round-faced corporal and two round-faced men looking +eagerly to see who might be attacking their treasure, and I became +quite genial in my mind when I thought of how proud these boys felt, +and of how I was of the 'class of ninety, rifled and mounted on its +carriage' (if you don't see the point of the allusion, I can't stop to +explain it. It was a good gun in its time--now they have the +seventy-five that doesn't recoil--_requiescat), _and of how they were +longing for the night, and a chance to shoot anything on the sky line. + +Full of these foolish thoughts, but smiling in spite of their folly, I +went down the road. + +Shall I detail all that afternoon? My leg horrified me with dull pain, +and made me fear I should never hold out, I do not say to Rome, but +even to the frontier. I rubbed it from time to time with balm, but, as +always happens to miraculous things, the virtue had gone out of it +with the lapse of time. At last I found a side road going off from +the main way, and my map told me it was on the whole a short cut to +the frontier. I determined to take it for those few last miles, +because, if one is suffering, a winding lane is more tolerable than a +wide turnpike. + +Just as I came to the branching of the roads I saw a cross put up, and +at its base the motto that is universal to French crosses-- + +_Ave Crux Spes Unica._ + +I thought it a good opportunity for recollection, and sitting down, I +looked backward along the road I had come. + +There were the high mountains of the Vosges standing up above the +plain of Alsace like sloping cliffs above a sea. I drew them as they +stood, and wondered if that frontier were really permanent. The mind +of man is greater than such accidents, and can easily overleap even +the high hills. + +Then having drawn them, and in that drawing said a kind of farewell to +the influences that had followed me for so many miles--the solemn +quiet, the steady industry, the self-control, the deep woods, of +Lorraine--1 rose up stiffly from the bank that had been my desk, and +pushed along the lane that ran devious past neglected villages. + +The afternoon and the evening followed as I put one mile after another +behind me. The frontier seemed so close that I would not rest. I left +my open wine, the wine I had found outside Belfort, untasted, and I +plodded on and on as the light dwindled. I was in a grand wonderment +for Switzerland, and I wished by an immediate effort to conquer the +last miles before night, in spite of my pain. Also, I will confess to +a silly pride in distances, and a desire to be out of France on my +fourth day. + +The light still fell, and my resolution stood, though my exhaustion +undermined it. The line of the mountains rose higher against the sky, +and there entered into my pilgrimage for the first time the loneliness +and the mystery of meres. Something of what a man feels in East +England belonged to this last of the plain under the guardian hills. +Everywhere I passed ponds and reeds, and saw the level streaks of +sunset reflected in stagnant waters. + +The marshy valley kept its character when I had left the lane and +regained the highroad. Its isolation dominated the last effort with +which I made for the line of the Jura in that summer twilight, and as +I blundered on my whole spirit was caught or lifted in the influence +of the waste waters and of the birds of evening. + +I wished, as I had often wished in such opportunities of recollection +and of silence, for a complete barrier that might isolate the mind. +With that wish came in a puzzling thought, very proper to a +pilgrimage, which was: 'What do men mean by the desire to be dissolved +and to enjoy the spirit free and without attachments?' That many men +have so desired there can be no doubt, and the best men, whose +holiness one recognizes at once, tell us that the joys of the soul are +incomparably higher than those of the living man. In India, moreover, +there are great numbers of men who do the most fantastic things with +the object of thus unprisoning the soul, and Milton talks of the same +thing with evident conviction, and the Saints all praise it in chorus. +But what is it? For my part I cannot understand so much as the meaning +of the words, for every pleasure I know comes from an intimate union +between my body and my very human mind, which last receives, confirms, +revives, and can summon up again what my body has experienced. Of +pleasures, however, in which my senses have had no part I know +nothing, so I have determined to take them upon trust and see whether +they could make the matter clearer in Rome. + +But when it comes to the immortal mind, the good spirit in me that is +so cunning at forms and colours and the reasons of things, that is a +very different story. _That_, I do indeed desire to have to myself at +whiles, and the waning light of a day or the curtains of autumn +closing in the year are often to me like a door shutting after one, as +one comes in home. For I find that with less and less impression from +without the mind seems to take on a power of creation, and by some +mystery it can project songs and landscapes and faces much more +desirable than the music or the shapes one really hears and sees. So +also memory can create. But it is not the soul that does this, for the +songs, the landscapes, and the faces are of a kind that have come in +by the senses, nor have I ever understood what could be higher than +these pleasures, nor indeed how in anything formless and immaterial +there could be pleasure at all. Yet the wisest people assure us that +our souls are as superior to our minds as are our minds to our inert +and merely material bodies. I cannot understand it at all. + +As I was pondering on these things in this land of pastures and lonely +ponds, with the wall of the Jura black against the narrow bars of +evening--(my pain seemed gone for a moment, yet I was hobbling +slowly)--I say as I was considering this complex doctrine, I felt my +sack suddenly much lighter, and I had hardly time to rejoice at the +miracle when I heard immediately a very loud crash, and turning half +round I saw on the blurred white of the twilit road my quart of Open +Wine all broken to atoms. My disappointment was so great that I sat +down on a milestone to consider the accident and to see if a little +thought would not lighten my acute annoyance. Consider that I had +carefully cherished this bottle and had not drunk throughout a painful +march all that afternoon, thinking that there would be no wine worth +drinking after I had passed the frontier. + +I consoled myself more or less by thinking about torments and evils to +which even such a loss as this was nothing, and then I rose to go on +into the night. As it turned out I was to find beyond the frontier a +wine in whose presence this wasted wine would have seemed a wretched +jest, and whose wonderful taste was to colour all my memories of the +Mount Terrible. It is always thus with sorrows if one will only wait. + +So, lighter in the sack but heavier in the heart, I went forward to +cross the frontier in the dark. I did not quite know where the point +came: I only knew that it was about a mile from Delle, the last French +town. I supped there and held on my way. When I guessed that I had +covered this mile I saw a light in the windows on my left, a trellis +and the marble tables of a cafe. I put my head in at the door and +said-- + +'Am I in Switzerland?' + +A German-looking girl, a large heavy man, a Bavarian commercial +traveller, and a colleague of his from Marseilles, all said together +in varying accents: 'Yes.' + +'Why then,' I said, 'I will come in and drink.' + +This book would never end if I were to attempt to write down so much +as the names of a quarter of the extraordinary things that I saw and +heard on my enchanted pilgrimage, but let me at least mention the +Commercial Traveller from Marseilles. + +He talked with extreme rapidity for two hours. He had seen all the +cities in the world and he remembered their minutest details. He was +extremely accurate, his taste was abominable, his patriotism large, +his wit crude but continual, and to his German friend, to the host of +the inn, and to the blonde serving-girl, he was a familiar god. He +came, it seems, once a year, and for a day would pour out the torrent +of his travels like a waterfall of guide-books (for he gloried in +dates, dimensions, and the points of the compass in his descriptions); +then he disappeared for another year, and left them to feast on the +memory of such a revelation. + +For my part I sat silent, crippled with fatigue, trying to forget my +wounded feet, drinking stoup after stoup of beer and watching the +Phocean. He was of the old race you see on vases in red and black; +slight, very wiry, with a sharp, eager, but well-set face, a small, +black, pointed beard, brilliant eyes like those of lizards, rapid +gestures, and a vivacity that played all over his features as sheet +lightning does over the glow of midnight in June. + +That delta of the Rhone is something quite separate from the rest of +France. It is a wedge of Greece and of the East thrust into the Gauls. +It came north a hundred years ago and killed the monarchy. It caught +the value in, and created, the great war song of the Republic. + +I watched the Phocean. I thought of a man of his ancestry three +thousand years ago sitting here at the gates of these mountains +talking of his travels to dull, patient, and admiring northerners, and +travelling for gain up on into the Germanics, and I felt the +changeless form of Europe under me like a rock. + +When he heard I was walking to Rome, this man of information turned +off his flood into another channel, as a miller will send the racing +water into a side sluice, and he poured out some such torrent as this: + +'Do not omit to notice the famous view S.E. from the Villa So and So +on Monte Mario; visit such and such a garden, and hear Mass in such +and such a church. Note the curious illusion produced on the piazza of +St Peter's by the interior measurements of the trapezium, which are so +many years and so many yards, ...' &c., and so forth ... exactly like +a mill. + +I meanwhile sat on still silent, still drinking beer and watching the +Phocean; gradually suffering the fascination that had captured the +villagers and the German friend. He was a very wonderful man. + +He was also kindly, for I found afterwards that he had arranged with +the host to give me up his bed, seeing my weariness. For this, most +unluckily, I was never able to thank him, since the next morning I was +off before he or any one else was awake, and I left on the table such +money as I thought would very likely satisfy the innkeeper. + +It was broad day, but not yet sunrise (there were watery thin clouds +left here and there from the day before, a cold wind drove them) when, +with extreme pain, going slowly one step after the other and resting +continually, I started for Porrentruy along a winding road, and +pierced the gap in the Jura. The first turn cut me off from France, +and I was fairly in a strange country. + +The valley through which I was now passing resembled that of the +lovely river Jed where it runs down from the Cheviots, and leads like +a road into the secret pastures of the lowlands. Here also, as there, +steep cliffs of limestone bounded a very level dale, all green grass +and plenty; the plateau above them was covered also with perpetual +woods, only here, different from Scotland, the woods ran on and +upwards till they became the slopes of high mountains; indeed, this +winding cleft was a natural passage through the first ridge of the +Jura; the second stood up southward before me like a deep blue storm. + +I had, as I passed on along this turning way, all the pleasures of +novelty; it was quite another country from the governed and ordered +France which I had left. The road was more haphazard, less carefully +tended, and evidently less used. The milestones were very old, and +marked leagues instead of kilometres. There was age in everything. +Moss grew along the walls, and it was very quiet under the high trees. +I did not know the name of the little river that went slowly through +the meadows, nor whether it followed the custom of its French +neighbours on the watershed, and was called by some such epithet as +hangs to all the waters in that gap of Belfort, that plain of ponds +and marshes: for they are called 'the Sluggish', 'the Muddy', or 'the +Laggard'. Even the name of the Saone, far off, meant once 'Slow +Water'. + +I was wondering what its name might be, and how far I stood from +Porrentruy (which I knew to be close by), when I saw a tunnel across +the valley, and I guessed by the trend of the higher hills that the +river was about to make a very sharp angle. Both these signs, I had +been told, meant that I was quite close to the town; so I took a short +cut up through the forest over a spur of hill--a short cut most +legitimate, because it was trodden and very manifestly used--and I +walked up and then on a level for a mile, along a lane of the woods +and beneath small, dripping trees. When this short silence of the +forest was over, I saw an excellent sight. + +There, below me, where the lane began to fall, was the first of the +German cities. + +LECTOR. How 'German'? + +AUCTOR. Let me explain. There is a race that stretches vaguely, +without defined boundaries, from the Baltic into the high hills of the +south. I will not include the Scandinavians among them, for the +Scandinavians (from whom we English also in part descend) are +long-headed, lean, and fierce, with a light of adventure in their pale +eyes. But beneath them, I say, there stretches from the Baltic to the +high hills a race which has a curious unity. Yes; I know that great +patches of it are Catholic, and that other great patches hold varying +philosophies; I know also that within them are counted long-headed and +round-headed men, dark and fair, violent and silent; I know also that +they have continually fought among themselves and called in Welch +allies; still I go somewhat by the language, for I am concerned here +with the development of a modern European people, and I say that the +Germans run from the high hills to the northern sea. In all of them +you find (it is not race, it is something much more than race, it is +the type of culture) a dreaminess and a love of ease. In all of them +you find music. They are those Germans whose countries I had seen a +long way off, from the Ballon d'Alsace, and whose language and +traditions I now first touched in the town that stood before me. + +LECTOR. But in Porrentruy they talk French! + +AUCTOR. They are welcome; it is an excellent tongue. Nevertheless, +they are Germans. Who but Germans would so preserve--would so rebuild +the past? Who but Germans would so feel the mystery of the hills, and +so fit their town to the mountains? I was to pass through but a narrow +wedge of this strange and diffuse people. They began at Porrentruy, +they ended at the watershed of the Adriatic, in the high passes of the +Alps; but in that little space of four days I made acquaintance with +their influence, and I owe them a perpetual gratitude for their +architecture and their tales. I had come from France, which is full of +an active memory of Rome. I was to debouch into those larger plains of +Italy, which keep about them an atmosphere of Rome in decay. Here in +Switzerland, for four marches, I touched a northern, exterior, and +barbaric people; for though these mountains spoke a distorted Latin +tongue, and only after the first day began to give me a Teutonic +dialect, yet it was evident from the first that they had about them +neither the Latin order nor the Latin power to create, but were +contemplative and easily absorbed by a little effort. + +The German spirit is a marvel. There lay Porrentruy. An odd door with +Gothic turrets marked the entry to the town. To the right of this +gateway a tower, more enormous than anything I remembered to have +seen, even in dreams, flanked the approach to the city. How vast it +was, how protected, how high, how eaved, how enduring! I was told +later that some part of that great bastion was Roman, and I can +believe it. The Germans hate to destroy. It overwhelmed me as visions +overwhelm, and I felt in its presence as boys feel when they first see +the mountains. Had I not been a Christian, I would have worshipped and +propitiated this obsession, this everlasting thing. + +As it was I entered Porrentruy soberly. I passed under its deep +gateway and up its steep hill. The moment I was well into the main +street, something other of the Middle Ages possessed me, and I began +to think of food and wine. I went to the very first small guest-house +I could find, and asked them if they could serve me food. They said +that at such an early hour (it was not yet ten) they could give me +nothing but bread, yesterday's meat, and wine. I said that would do +very well, and all these things were set before me, and by a custom of +the country I paid before I ate. (A bad custom. Up in the Limousin, +when I was a boy, in the noisy valley of the Torrent, on the Vienne, I +remember a woman that did not allow me to pay till she had held the +bottle up to the light, measured the veal with her finger, and +estimated the bread with her eye; also she charged me double. God +rest her soul!) I say I paid. And had I had to pay twenty or +twenty-three times as much it would have been worth it for the wine. + +I am hurrying on to Rome, and I have no time to write a georgic. But, +oh! my little friends of the north; my struggling, strenuous, +introspective, self-analysing, autoscopic, and generally reentrant +friends, who spout the 'Hue! Pater, oh! Lenae!' without a ghost of an +idea what you are talking about, do you know what is meant by the god? +Bacchus is everywhere, but if he has special sites to be ringed in and +kept sacred, I say let these be Brule, and the silent vineyard that +lies under the square wood by Tournus, the hollow underplace of Heltz +le Maurupt, and this town of Porrentruy. In these places if I can get +no living friends to help me, I will strike the foot alone on the +genial ground, and I know of fifty maenads and two hundred little +attendant gods by name that will come to the festival. + +What a wine! + +I was assured it would not travel. 'Nevertheless,' said I, 'give me a +good quart bottle of it, for I have to go far, and I see there is a +providence for pilgrims.' + +So they charged me fourpence, and I took my bottle of this wonderful +stuff, sweet, strong, sufficient, part of the earth, desirable, and +went up on my way to Rome. + +Could this book be infinite, as my voyage was infinite, I would tell +you about the shifty priest whom I met on the platform of the church +where a cliff overhangs the valley, and of the anarchist whom I met +when I recovered the highroad--- he was a sad, good man, who had +committed some sudden crime and so had left France, and his hankering +for France all those years had soured his temper, and he said he +wished there were no property, no armies, and no governments. + +But I said that we live as parts of a nation, and that there was no +fate so wretched as to be without a country of one's own--what else +was exile which so many noble men have thought worse than death, and +which all have feared? I also told him that armies fighting in a just +cause were the happiest places for living, and that a good battle for +justice was the beginning of all great songs; and that as for +property, a man on his own land was the nearest to God. + +He therefore not convinced, and I loving and pitying him, we +separated; I had not time to preach my full doctrine, but gave him +instead a deep and misty glass of cool beer, and pledged him +brotherhood, freedom, and an equal law. Then I went on my way, praying +God that all these rending quarrels might be appeased. For they would +certainly be appeased if we once again had a united doctrine in +Europe, since economics are but an expression of the mind and do not +(as the poor blind slaves of the great cities think) mould the mind. +What is more, nothing makes property run into a few hands but the +worst of the capital sins, and you who say it is 'the modern +facilities of distribution' are like men who cannot read large print +without spectacles; or again, you are like men who should say that +their drunkenness was due to their drink, or that arson was caused by +matches. + +But, frankly, do you suppose I came all this way over so many hills to +talk economics? Very far from it! I will pray for all poor men when I +get to St Peter's in Rome (I should like to know what capital St Peter +had in that highly capitalistic first century), and, meanwhile, do you +discuss the margin of production while I go on the open way; there are +no landlords here, and if you would learn at least one foreign +language, and travel but five miles off a railway, you town-talkers, +you would find how much landlordism has to do with your 'necessities' +and your 'laws'. + +LECTOR. I thought you said you were not going to talk economics? + +AUCTOR. Neither am I. It is but the backwash of a wave ... Well, then, +I went up the open way, and came in a few miles of that hot afternoon +to the second ridge of the Jura, which they call 'the Terrible Hill', +or 'the Mount Terrible'--and, in truth, it is very jagged. A steep, +long crest of very many miles lies here between the vale of Porrentruy +and the deep gorge of the Doubs. The highroad goes off a long way +westward, seeking for a pass or neck in the chain, but I determined to +find a straight road across, and spoke to some wood-cutters who were +felling trees just where the road began to climb. They gave me this +curious indication. They said-- + +'Go you up this muddy track that has been made athwart the woods and +over the pastures by our sliding logs' (for they had cut their trunks +higher up the mountains), 'and you will come to the summit easily. +From thence you will see the Doubs running below you in a very deep +and dark ravine.' + +I thanked them, and soon found that they had told me right. There, +unmistakable, a gash in the forest and across the intervening fields +of grass, was the run of the timber. + +When I had climbed almost to the top, I looked behind me to take my +last view of the north. I saw just before me a high isolated rock; +between me and it was the forest. I saw beyond it the infinite plain +of Alsace and the distant Vosges. The cliff of limestone that bounded +that height fell sheer upon the tree-tops; its sublimity arrested me, +and compelled me to record it. + +'Surely,' I said, 'if Switzerland has any gates on the north they are +these.' Then, having drawn the wonderful outline of what I had seen, I +went up, panting, to the summit, and, resting there, discovered +beneath me the curious swirl of the Doubs, where it ran in a dark gulf +thousands of feet below. The shape of this extraordinary turn I will +describe in a moment. Let me say, meanwhile, that there was no +precipice or rock between me and the river, only a down, down, down +through other trees and pastures, not too steep for a man to walk, but +steeper than our steep downs and fells in England, where a man +hesitates and picks his way. It was so much of a descent, and so long, +that one looked above the tree-tops. It was a place where no one would +care to ride. + +I found a kind of path, sideways on the face of the mountain, and +followed it till I came to a platform with a hut perched thereon, and +men building. Here a good woman told me just how to go. I was not to +attempt the road to Brune-Farine--that is, 'Whole-Meal Farm'--as I had +first intended, foolishly trusting a map, but to take a gully she +would show me, and follow it till I reached the river. She came out, +and led me steeply across a hanging pasture; all the while she had +knitting in her hands, and I noticed that on the levels she went on +with her knitting. Then, when we got to the gully, she said I had but +to follow it. I thanked her, and she climbed up to her home. + +This gully was the precipitous bed of a stream; I clanked down +it--thousands of feet--warily; I reached the valley, and at last, very +gladly, came to a drain, and thus knew that I approached a town or +village. It was St Ursanne. + +The very first thing I noticed in St Ursanne was the extraordinary +shape of the lower windows of the church. They lighted a crypt and ran +along the ground, which in itself was sufficiently remarkable, but +much more remarkable was their shape, which seemed to me to approach +that of a horseshoe; I never saw such a thing before. It looked as +though the weight of the church above had bulged these little windows +out, and that is the way I explain it. Some people would say it was a +man coming home from the Crusades that had made them this eastern way, +others that it was a symbol of something or other. But I say-- + +LECTOR. What rhodomontade and pedantry is this talk about the shape of +a window? + +AUCTOR. Little friend, how little you know! To a building windows are +everything; they are what eyes are to a man. Out of windows a building +takes its view; in windows the outlook of its human inhabitants is +framed. If you were the lord of a very high tower overlooking a town, +a plain, a river, and a distant hill (I doubt if you will ever have +such luck!), would you not call your architect up before you and say-- + +'Sir, see that the windows of my house are _tall, narrow, thick_, and +have a _round top to them'?_ + +Of course you would, for thus you would best catch in separate +pictures the sunlit things outside your home. + +Never ridicule windows. It is out of windows that many fall to their +deaths. By windows love often enters. Through a window went the bolt +that killed King Richard. King William's father spied Arlette from a +window (I have looked through it myself, but not a soul did I see +washing below). When a mob would rule England, it breaks windows, and +when a patriot would save her, he taxes them. Out of windows we walk +on to lawns in summer and meet men and women, and in winter windows +are drums for the splendid music of storms that makes us feel so +masterly round our fires. The windows of the great cathedrals are all +their meaning. But for windows we should have to go out-of-doors to +see daylight. After the sun, which they serve, I know of nothing so +beneficent as windows. Fie upon the ungrateful man that has no +window-god in his house, and thinks himself too great a philosopher to +bow down to windows! May he live in a place without windows for a +while to teach him the value of windows. As for me, I will keep up the +high worship of windows till I come to the windowless grave. Talk to +me of windows! + +Yes. There are other things in St Ursanne. It is a little tiny town, +and yet has gates. It is full of very old houses, people, and speech. +It was founded (or named) by a Bear Saint, and the statue of the saint +with his bear is carved on the top of a column in the market-place. +But the chief thing about it, so it seemed to me, was its remoteness. + +The gorge of the Doubs, of which I said a word or two above, is of +that very rare shape which isolates whatever may be found in such +valleys. It turns right back upon itself, like a very narrow U, and +thus cannot by any possibility lead any one anywhere; for though in +all times travellers have had to follow river valleys, yet when they +come to such a long and sharp turn as this, they have always cut +across the intervening bend. + +Here is the shape of this valley with the high hills round it and in +its core, which will show better than description what I mean. The +little picture also shows what the gorge looked like as I came down on +it from the heights above. + +In the map the small white 'A' shows where the railway bridge was, and +in this map, as in the others, the dark is for the depth and the light +is for the heights. As for the picture, it is what one sees when one +is coming over the ridge at the north or top of the map, and when one +first catches the river beneath one. + +I thought a good deal about what the Romans did to get through the +Mont Terrible, and how they negotiated this crook in the Doubs (for +they certainly passed into Gaul through the gates of Porrentruy, and +by that obvious valley below it). I decided that they probably came +round eastward by Delemont. But for my part, I was on a straight path +to Rome, and as that line lay just along the top of the river bend I +was bound to take it. + +Now outside St Ursanne, if one would go along the top of the river +bend and so up to the other side of the gorge, is a kind of subsidiary +ravine--awful, deep, and narrow--and this was crossed, I could see, by +a very high railway bridge. + +Not suspecting any evil, and desiring to avoid the long descent into +the ravine, the looking for a bridge or ford, and the steep climb up +the other side, I made in my folly for the station which stood just +where the railway left solid ground to go over this high, high bridge. +I asked leave of the stationmaster to cross it, who said it was +strictly forbidden, but that he was not a policeman, and that I might +do it at my own risk. Thanking him, therefore, and considering how +charming was the loose habit of small uncentralized societies, I went +merrily on to the bridge, meaning to walk across it by stepping from +sleeper to sleeper. But it was not to be so simple. The powers of the +air, that hate to have their kingdom disturbed, watched me as I began. + +I had not been engaged upon it a dozen yards when I was seized with +terror. + +I have much to say further on in this book concerning terror: the +panic that haunts high places and the spell of many angry men. This +horrible affection of the mind is the delight of our modern +scribblers; it is half the plot of their insane 'short stories', and +is at the root of their worship of what they call 'strength', a +cowardly craving for protection, or the much more despicable +fascination of brutality. For my part I have always disregarded it as +something impure and devilish, unworthy of a Christian. Fear I think, +indeed, to be in the nature of things, and it is as much part of my +experience to be afraid of the sea or of an untried horse as it is to +eat and sleep; but terror, which is a sudden madness and paralysis of +the soul, that I say is from hell, and not to be played with or +considered or put in pictures or described in stories. All this I say +to preface what happened, and especially to point out how terror is in +the nature of a possession and is unreasonable. + +For in the crossing of this bridge there was nothing in itself +perilous. The sleepers lay very close together--I doubt if a man +could have slipped between them; but, I know not how many hundred feet +below, was the flashing of the torrent, and it turned my brain. For +the only parapet there was a light line or pipe, quite slender and low +down, running from one spare iron upright to another. These rather +emphasized than encouraged my mood. And still as I resolutely put one +foot in front of the other, and resolutely kept my eyes off the abyss +and fixed on the opposing hill, and as the long curve before me was +diminished by successive sharp advances, still my heart was caught +half-way in every breath, and whatever it is that moves a man went +uncertainly within me, mechanical and half-paralysed. The great height +with that narrow unprotected ribbon across it was more than I could +bear. + +I dared not turn round and I dared not stop. Words and phrases began +repeating themselves in my head as they will under a strain: so I know +at sea a man perilously hanging on to the tiller makes a kind of +litany of his instructions. The central part was passed, the +three-quarters; the tension of that enduring effort had grown +intolerable, and I doubted my ability to complete the task. Why? What +could prevent me? I cannot say; it was all a bundle of imaginaries. +Perhaps at bottom what I feared was sudden giddiness and the fall-- + +At any rate at this last supreme part I vowed one candle to Our Lady +of Perpetual Succour if she would see that all went well, and this +candle I later paid in Rome; finding Our Lady of Succour not hung up +in a public place and known to all, as I thought She would be, but +peculiar to a little church belonging to a Scotchman and standing +above his high altar. Yet it is a very famous picture, and extremely +old. + +Well, then, having made this vow I still went on, with panic aiding +me, till I saw that the bank beneath had risen to within a few feet of +the bridge, and that dry land was not twenty yards away. Then my +resolution left me and I ran, or rather stumbled, rapidly from sleeper +to sleeper till I could take a deep breath on the solid earth beyond. + +I stood and gazed back over the abyss; I saw the little horrible strip +between heaven and hell--the perspective of its rails. I was made ill +by the relief from terror. Yet I suppose railway-men cross and recross +it twenty times a day. Better for them than for me! + +There is the story of the awful bridge of the Mont Terrible, and it +lies to a yard upon the straight line--_quid dicam_--the segment of +the Great Circle uniting Toul and Rome. + +The high bank or hillside before me was that which ends the gorge of +the Doubs and looks down either limb of the sharp bend. I had here not +to climb but to follow at one height round the curve. My way ran by a +rather ill-made lane and passed a village. Then it was my business to +make straight up the farther wall of the gorge, and as there was wood +upon this, it looked an easy matter. + +But when I came to it, it was not easy. The wood grew in loose rocks +and the slope was much too steep for anything but hands and knees, and +far too soft and broken for true climbing. And no wonder this ridge +seemed a wall for steepness and difficulty, since it was the watershed +between the Mediterranean and the cold North Sea. But I did not know +this at the time. It must have taken me close on an hour before I had +covered the last thousand feet or so that brought me to the top of the +ridge, and there, to my great astonishment, was a road. Where could +such a road lead, and why did it follow right along the highest edge +of the mountains? The Jura with their unique parallels provide twenty +such problems. + +Wherever it led, however, this road was plainly perpendicular to my +true route, and I had but to press on my straight line. So I crossed +it, saw for a last time through the trees the gorge of the Doubs, and +then got upon a path which led down through a field more or less in +the direction of my pilgrimage. + +Here the country was so broken that one could make out but little of +its general features, but of course, on the whole, I was following +down yet another southern slope, the southern slope of the _third_ +chain of the Jura, when, after passing through many glades and along a +stony path, I found a kind of gate between two high rocks, and emerged +somewhat suddenly upon a wide down studded with old trees and also +many stunted yews, and this sank down to a noble valley which lay all +before me. + +The open down or prairie on which I stood I afterwards found to be +called the 'Pasturage of Common Right', a very fine name; and, as a +gallery will command a great hall, so this field like a platform +commanded the wide and fading valley below. + +It was a very glad surprise to see this sight suddenly unrolled as I +stood on the crest of the down. The Jura had hitherto been either +lonely, or somewhat awful, or naked and rocky, but here was a true +vale in which one could imagine a spirit of its own; there were corn +lands and no rocks. The mountains on either side did not rise so high +as three thousand feet. Though of limestone they were rounded in form, +and the slanting sun of the late afternoon (all the storm had left the +sky) took them full and warm. The valley remaining wide and fruitful +went on out eastward till the hills became mixed up with brume and +distance. As I did not know its name I called it after the village +immediately below me for which I was making; and I still remember it +as the Valley of Glovelier, and it lies between the third and fourth +ridges of the Jura. + +Before leaving the field I drew what I saw but I was much too tired by +the double and prodigious climb of the past hours to draw definitely +or clearly. Such as it is, there it is. Then I went down over the +smooth field. + +There is something that distinguishes the rugged from the gracious in +landscape, and in our Europe this something corresponds to the use and +presence of men, especially in mountainous places. For men's habits +and civilization fill the valleys and wash up the base of the hills, +making, as it were, a tide mark. Into this zone I had already passed. +The turf was trodden fine, and was set firm as it can only become by +thousands of years of pasturing. The moisture that oozed out of the +earth was not the random bog of the high places but a human spring, +caught in a stone trough. Attention had been given to the trees. +Below me stood a wall, which, though rough, was not the haphazard +thing men pile up in the last recesses of the hills, but formed of +chosen stones, and these bound together with mortar. On my right was +a deep little dale with children playing in it--and this' I afterwards +learned was called a 'combe': delightful memory! All our deeper +hollows are called the same at home, and even the Welsh have the word, +but they spell it _cwm_; it is their mountain way. Well, as I was +saying, everything surrounding me was domestic and grateful, and I was +therefore in a mood for charity and companionship when I came down the +last dip and entered Glovelier. But Glovelier is a place of no +excellence whatever, and if the thought did not seem extravagant I +should be for putting it to the sword and burning it all down. + +For just as I was going along full of kindly thoughts, and had turned +into the sign of (I think it was) the 'Sun' to drink wine and leave +them my benediction-- + +LECTOR. Why your benediction? + +AUCTOR. Who else can give benedictions if people cannot when they are +on pilgrimage? Learn that there are three avenues by which blessing +can be bestowed, and three kinds of men who can bestow it. + +(1) There is the good man, whose goodness makes him of himself a giver +of blessings. His power is not conferred or of office, but is +_inhaerens persona_; part of the stuff of his mind. This kind can +confer the solemn benediction, or _Benedictio major_, if they choose; +but besides this their every kind thought, word, or action is a +_Benedictio generalise_ and even their frowns, curses, angry looks and +irritable gestures may be called _Benedictiones minores vel incerti_. +I believe I am within the definitions. I avoid heresy. All this is +sound theology. I do not smell of the faggot. And this kind of +Benedictory Power is the fount or type or natural origin, as it were, +of all others. + +(2) There is the Official of Religion who, in the exercise of his +office-- + +LECTOR. For Heaven's sake-- + +AUCTOR. Who began it? You protested my power to give benediction, and +I must now prove it at length; otherwise I should fall under the +accusation of lesser Simony--that is, the false assumption of +particular powers. Well, then, there is the Official who _ex officio_, +and when he makes it quite clear that it is _qua sponsus_ and not +_sicut ut ipse_, can give formal benediction. This power belongs +certainly to all Bishops, mitred Abbots, and Archimandrates; to +Patriarchs of course, and _a fortiori_ to the Pope. In Rome they will +have it that Monsignores also can so bless, and I have heard it +debated whether or no the same were not true in some rustic way of +parish priests. However this may be, all their power proceeds, not +from themselves, but from the accumulation of goodness left as a +deposit by the multitudes of exceptionally good men who have lived in +times past, and who have now no use for it. + +(3) Thirdly--and this is my point--any one, good or bad, official or +non-official, who is for the moment engaged in an _opusfaustum_ can +act certainly as a conductor or medium, and the influence of what he +is touching or doing passes to you from him. This is admitted by every +one who worships trees, wells, and stones; and indeed it stands to +reason, for it is but a branch of the well-known _'Sanctificatio ex +loco, opere, tactu vel conditione.'_ I will admit that this power is +but vague, slight, tenuous, and dissipatory, still there it is: though +of course its poor effect is to that of the _Benedictio major_ what a +cat's-paw in the Solent is to a north-east snorter on Lindsey Deeps. + +I am sorry to have been at such length, but it is necessary to have +these things thrashed out once for all. So now you see how I, being on +pilgrimage, could give a kind of little creeping blessing to the +people on the way, though, as St Louis said to the Hascisch-eaters, +_'May it be a long time before you can kiss my bones.'_ + +So I entered the 'Sun' inn and saw there a woman sewing, a great +dull-faced man like an ox, and a youth writing down figures in a +little book. I said-- + +'Good morning, madam, and sirs, and the company. Could you give me a +little red wine?' Not a head moved. + +True I was very dirty and tired, and they may have thought me a +beggar, to whom, like good sensible Christians who had no nonsense +about them, they would rather have given a handsome kick than a cup of +cold water. However, I think it was not only my poverty but a native +churlishness which bound their bovine souls in that valley. + +I sat down at a very clean table. I notice that those whom the Devil +has made his own are always spick and span, just as firemen who have +to go into great furnaces have to keep all their gear highly polished. +I sat down at it, and said again, still gently-- + +'It is, indeed, a fine country this of yours. Could you give me a +little red wine?' + +Then the ox-faced man who had his back turned to me, and was the worst +of the lot, said sulkily, not to me, but to the woman-- + +'He wants wine.' + +The woman as sulkily said to me, not looking me in the eyes-- + +'How much will you pay?' + +I said, 'Bring the wine. Set it here. See me drink it. Charge me your +due.' + +I found that this brutal way of speaking was just what was needed for +the kine and cattle of this pen. She skipped off to a cupboard, and +set wine before me, and a glass. I drank quite quietly till I had had +enough, and asked what there was to pay. She said 'Threepence,' and I +said 'Too much,' as I paid it. At this the ox-faced man grunted and +frowned, and I was afraid; but hiding my fear I walked out boldly and +slowly, and made a noise with my stick upon the floor of the hall +without. Neither did I bid them farewell. But I made a sign at the +house as I left it. Whether it suffered from this as did the house at +Dorchester which the man in the boat caused to wither in one night, is +more than I can tell. + +The road led straight across the valley and approached the further +wall of hills. These I saw were pierced by one of the curious gaps +which are peculiar to limestone ranges. Water cuts them, and a torrent +ran through this one also. The road through it, gap though it was, +went up steeply, and the further valley was evidently higher than the +one I was leaving. It was already evening as I entered this narrow +ravine; the sun only caught the tops of the rock-walls. My fatigue was +very great, and my walking painful to an extreme, when, having come to +a place where the gorge was narrowest and where the two sides were +like the posts of a giant's stile, where also the fifth ridge of the +Jura stood up beyond me in the further valley, a vast shadow, I sat +down wearily and drew what not even my exhaustion could render +unremarkable. + +While I was occupied sketching the slabs of limestone, I heard wheels +coming up behind me, and a boy in a waggon stopped and hailed me. + +What the boy wanted to know was whether I would take a lift, and this +he said in such curious French that I shuddered to think how far I had +pierced into the heart of the hills, and how soon I might come to +quite strange people. I was greatly tempted to get into his cart, but +though I had broken so many of my vows one remained yet whole and +sound, which was that I would ride upon no wheeled thing. Remembering +this, therefore, and considering that the Faith is rich in +interpretation, I clung on to the waggon in such a manner that it did +all my work for me, and yet could not be said to be actually carrying +me. _Distinguo_. The essence of a vow is its literal meaning. The +spirit and intention are for the major morality, and concern Natural +Religion, but when upon a point of ritual or of dedication or special +worship a man talks to you of the Spirit and Intention, and complains +of the dryness of the Word, look at him askance. He is not far removed +from Heresy. + +I knew a man once that was given to drinking, and I made up this rule +for him to distinguish between Bacchus and the Devil. To wit: that he +should never drink what has been made and sold since the +Reformation--I mean especially spirits and champagne. Let him (said I) +drink red wine and white, good beer and mead--if he could get +it--liqueurs made by monks, and, in a word, all those feeding, +fortifying, and confirming beverages that our fathers drank in old +time; but not whisky, nor brandy, nor sparkling wines, not absinthe, +nor the kind of drink called gin. This he promised to do, and all went +well. He became a merry companion, and began to write odes. His prose +clarified and set, that had before been very mixed and cloudy. He +slept well; he comprehended divine things; he was already half a +republican, when one fatal day--it was the feast of the eleven +thousand virgins, and they were too busy up in heaven to consider the +needs of us poor hobbling, polyktonous and betempted wretches of +men--I went with him to the Society for the Prevention of Annoyances +to the Rich, where a certain usurer's son was to read a paper on the +cruelty of Spaniards to their mules. As we were all seated there round +a table with a staring green cloth on it, and a damnable gas pendant +above, the host of that evening offered him whisky and water, and, my +back being turned, he took it. Then when I would have taken it from +him he used these words-- + +'After all, it is the intention of a pledge that matters;' and I saw +that all was over, for he had abandoned definition, and was plunged +back into the horrible mazes of Conscience and Natural Religion. + +What do you think, then, was the consequence? Why, he had to take some +nasty pledge or other to drink nothing whatever, and become a +spectacle and a judgement, whereas if he had kept his exact word he +might by this time have been a happy man. + +Remembering him and pondering upon the advantage of strict rule, I +hung on to my cart, taking care to let my feet still feel the road, +and so passed through the high limestone gates of the gorge, and was +in the fourth valley of the Jura, with the fifth ridge standing up +black and huge before me against the last of the daylight. There were +as yet no stars. + +There, in this silent place, was the little village of Undervelier, +and I thanked the boy, withdrew from his cart, and painfully +approached the inn, where I asked the woman if she could give me +something to eat, and she said that she could in about an hour, using, +however, with regard to what it was I was to have, words which I did +not understand. For the French had become quite barbaric, and I was +now indeed lost in one of the inner places of the world. + +A cigar is, however, even in Undervelier, a cigar; and the best cost a +penny. One of these, therefore, I bought, and then I went out smoking +it into the village square, and, finding a low wall, leaned over it +and contemplated the glorious clear green water tumbling and roaring +along beneath it on the other side; for a little river ran through the +village. + +As I leaned there resting and communing I noticed how their church, +close at hand, was built along the low banks of the torrent. I admired +the luxuriance of the grass these waters fed, and the generous arch of +the trees beside it. The graves seemed set in a natural place of rest +and home, and just beyond this churchyard was that marriage of hewn +stone and water which is the source of so peculiar a satisfaction; for +the church tower was built boldly right out into the stream and the +current went eddying round it. But why it is that strong human +building when it dips into water should thus affect the mind I cannot +say, only I know that it is an emotion apart to see our device and +structure where it is most enduring come up against and challenge that +element which we cannot conquer, and which has always in it something +of danger for men. It is therefore well to put strong mouldings on to +piers and quays, and to make an architecture of them, and so it was a +splendid thought of the Romans to build their villas right out to sea; +so they say does Venice enthrall one, but where I have most noticed +this thing is at the Mont St Michel--only one must take care to shut +one's eyes or sleep during all the low tide. + +As I was watching that stream against those old stones, my cigar being +now half smoked, a bell began tolling, and it seemed as if the whole +village were pouring into the church. At this I was very much +surprised, not having been used at any time of my life to the +unanimous devotion of an entire population, but having always thought +of the Faith as something fighting odds, and having seen unanimity +only in places where some sham religion or other glozed over our +tragedies and excused our sins. Certainly to see all the men, women, +and children of a place taking Catholicism for granted was a new +sight, and so I put my cigar carefully down under a stone on the top +of the wall and went in with them. I then saw that what they were at +was vespers. + +All the village sang, knowing the psalms very well, and I noticed that +their Latin was nearer German than French; but what was most pleasing +of all was to hear from all the men and women together that very noble +good-night and salutation to God which begins-- + +_Te, lucis ante terminum._ + +My whole mind was taken up and transfigured by this collective act, +and I saw for a moment the Catholic Church quite plain, and I +remembered Europe, and the centuries. Then there left me altogether +that attitude of difficulty and combat which, for us others, is always +associated with the Faith. The cities dwindled in my imagination, and +I took less heed of the modern noise. I went out with them into the +clear evening and the cool. I found my cigar and lit it again, and +musing much more deeply than before, not without tears, I considered +the nature of Belief. + +Of its nature it breeds a reaction and an indifference. Those who +believe nothing but only think and judge cannot understand this. Of +its nature it struggles with us. And we, we, when our youth is full on +us, invariably reject it and set out in the sunlight content with +natural things. Then for a long time we are like men who follow down +the cleft of a mountain and the peaks are hidden from us and +forgotten. It takes years to reach the dry plain, and then we look +back and see our home. + +What is it, do you think, that causes the return? I think it is the +problem of living; for every day, every experience of evil, demands a +solution. That solution is provided by the memory of the great scheme +which at last we remember. Our childhood pierces through again ... But +I will not attempt to explain it, for I have not the power; only I +know that we who return suffer hard things; for there grows a gulf +between us and many companions. We are perpetually thrust into +minorities, and the world almost begins to talk a strange language; we +are troubled by the human machinery of a perfect and superhuman +revelation; we are over-anxious for its safety, alarmed, and in danger +of violent decisions. + +And this is hard: that the Faith begins to make one abandon the old +way of judging. Averages and movements and the rest grow uncertain. We +see things from within and consider one mind or a little group as a +salt or leaven. The very nature of social force seems changed to us. +And this is hard when a man has loved common views and is happy only +with his fellows. + +And this again is very hard, that we must once more take up that awful +struggle to reconcile two truths and to keep civic freedom sacred in +spite of the organization of religion, and not to deny what is +certainly true. It is hard to accept mysteries, and to be humble. We +are tost as the great schoolmen were tost, and we dare not neglect the +duty of that wrestling. + +But the hardest thing of all is that it leads us away, as by a +command, from all that banquet of the intellect than which there is no +keener joy known to man. + +I went slowly up the village place in the dusk, thinking of this +deplorable weakness in men that the Faith is too great for them, and +accepting it as an inevitable burden. I continued to muse with my eyes +upon the ground ... + +There was to be no more of that studious content, that security in +historic analysis, and that constant satisfaction of an appetite which +never cloyed. A wisdom more imperative and more profound was to put a +term to the comfortable wisdom of learning. All the balance of +judgement, the easy, slow convictions, the broad grasp of things, the +vision of their complexity, the pleasure in their innumerable +life--all that had to be given up. Fanaticisms were no longer entirely +to be despised, just appreciations and a strong grasp of reality no +longer entirely to be admired. + +The Catholic Church will have no philosophies. She will permit no +comforts; the cry of the martyrs is in her far voice; her eyes that +see beyond the world present us heaven and hell to the confusion of +our human reconciliations, our happy blending of good and evil things. + +By the Lord! I begin to think this intimate religion as tragic as a +great love. There came back into my mind a relic that I have in my +house. It is a panel of the old door of my college, having carved on +it my college arms. I remembered the Lion and the Shield, _Haec fuit, +Haec almae janua sacra domus._ Yes, certainly religion is as tragic as +first love, and drags us out into the void away from our dear homes. + +It is a good thing to have loved one woman from a child, and it is a +good thing not to have to return to the Faith. + +They cook worse in Undervelier than any place I was ever in, with the +possible exception of Omaha, Neb. + +LECTOR. Why do you use phrases like _'possible exception'?_ + +AUCTOR. Why not? I see that all the religion I have stuck into the +book has no more effect on you than had Rousseau upon Sir Henry Maine. +You are as full of Pride as a minor Devil. You would avoid the +_cliche_ and the commonplace, and the _phrase toute faite_. Why? Not +because you naturally write odd prose--contrariwise, left to yourself +you write pure journalese; but simply because you are swelled and +puffed up with a desire to pose. You want what the Martha Brown school +calls 'distinction' in prose. My little friend, I know how it is done, +and I find it contemptible. People write their articles at full speed, +putting down their unstudied and valueless conclusions in English as +pale as a film of dirty wax--sometimes even they dictate to a +typewriter. Then they sit over it with a blue pencil and carefully +transpose the split infinitives, and write alternative adjectives, and +take words away out of their natural place in the sentence and +generally put the Queen's English--yes, the Queen's English--on the +rack. And who is a penny the better for it? The silly authors get no +real praise, not even in the horrible stucco villas where their clique +meet on Sundays. The poor public buys the _Marvel_ and gasps at the +cleverness of the writing and despairs, and has to read what it can +understand, and is driven back to toshy novels about problems, written +by cooks. 'The hungry sheep,' as some one says somewhere, 'look up and +are not fed;' and the same poet well describes your pipings as being +on wretched straw pipes that are 'scrannel'--a good word. + +Oh, for one man who should write healthy, hearty, straightforward +English! Oh, for Cobbett! There are indeed some great men who write +twistedly simply because they cannot help it, but _their_ honesty is +proved by the mass they turn out. What do you turn out, you higglers +and sticklers? Perhaps a bad triolet every six months, and a book of +criticism on something thoroughly threadbare once in five years. If I +had my way-- + +LECTOR. I am sorry to have provoked all this. + +AUCTOR. Not at all! Not at all! I trust I have made myself clear. + +Well, as I was saying, they cook worse at Undervelier than any place I +was ever in, with the possible exception of Omaha, Neb. However, I +forgave them, because they were such good people, and after a short +and bitter night I went out in the morning before the sun rose and +took the Moutier road. + +The valley in which I was now engaged--the phrase seems familiar--was +more or less like an H. That is, there were two high parallel ranges +bounding it, but across the middle a low ridge of perhaps a thousand +feet. The road slowly climbed this ridge through pastures where cows +with deep-toned bells were rising from the dew on the grass, and where +one or two little cottages and a village already sent up smoke. All +the way up I was thinking of the surfeit of religion I had had the +night before, and also of how I had started that morning without bread +or coffee, which was a folly. + +When I got to the top of the ridge there was a young man chopping wood +outside a house, and I asked him in French how far it was to Moutier. +He answered in German, and I startled him by a loud cry, such as +sailors give when they see land, for at last I had struck the boundary +of the languages, and was with pure foreigners for the first time in +my life. I also asked him for coffee, and as he refused it I took him +to be a heretic and went down the road making up verses against all +such, and singing them loudly through the forest that now arched over +me and grew deeper as I descended. + +And my first verse was-- + + Heretics all, whoever you be, + In Tarbes or Nimes, or over the sea, + You never shall have good words from me. + _Caritas non conturbat me._ + +If you ask me why I put a Latin line at the end, it was because I had +to show that it was a song connected with the Universal Fountain and +with European culture, and with all that Heresy combats. I sang it to +a lively hymn-tune that I had invented for the occasion. + +I then thought what a fine fellow I was, and how pleasant were my +friends when I agreed with them. I made up this second verse, which I +sang even more loudly than the first; and the forest grew deeper, +sending back echoes-- + + But Catholic men that live upon wine + Are deep in the water, and frank, and fine; + Wherever I travel I find it so, + _Benedicamus Domino._ + +There is no doubt, however, that if one is really doing a catholic +work, and expressing one's attitude to the world, charity, pity, and a +great sense of fear should possess one, or, at least, appear. So I +made up this third verse and sang it to suit-- + + On childing women that are forlorn, + And men that sweat in nothing but scorn: + That is on all that ever were born, + _Miserere Domine._ + +Then, as everything ends in death, and as that is just what Heretics +least like to be reminded of, I ended thus-- + + To my poor self on my deathbed, + And all my dear companions dead, + Because of the love that I bore them, + _Dona Eis Requiem._ + +I say 'I ended.' But I did not really end there, for I also wrote in +the spirit of the rest a verse of Mea Culpa and Confession of Sin, but +I shall not print it here. + +So my song over and the woods now left behind, I passed up a dusty +piece of road into Moutier, a detestable town, all whitewashed and +orderly, down under the hills. + +I was tired, for the sun was now long risen and somewhat warm, and I +had walked ten miles, and that over a high ridge; and I had written a +canticle and sung it--- and all that without a sup or a bite. I +therefore took bread, coffee, and soup in Moutier, and then going a +little way out of the town I crossed a stream off the road, climbed a +knoll, and, lying under a tree, I slept. + +I awoke and took the road. + +The road after Moutier was not a thing for lyrics; it stirred me in no +way. It was bare in the sunlight, had fields on either side; and in +the fields stood houses. In the houses were articulately-speaking +mortal men. + +There is a school of Poets (I cannot read them myself) who treat of +common things, and their admirers tell us that these men raise the +things of everyday life to the plane of the supernatural. Note that +phrase, for it is a shaft of light through a cloud revealing their +disgusting minds. + +Everyday life! As _La Croix_ said in a famous leading article: _'La +Presse?'_ POOH!' I know that everyday life. It goes with sandals and +pictures of lean ugly people all just like one another in browny +photographs on the wall, and these pictures are called, one 'The House +of Life', or another, 'The Place Beautiful', or yet again a third, +'The Lamp of the Valley', and when you complain and shift about +uneasily before these pictures, the scrub-minded and dusty-souled +owners of them tell you that of course in photographs you lose the +marvellous colour of the original. This everyday life has mantelpieces +made of the same stuff as cafe-tables, so that by instinct I try to +make rings on them with my wine-glass, and the people who suffer this +life get up every morning at eight, and the poor sad men of the house +slave at wretched articles and come home to hear more literature and +more appreciations, and the unholy women do nothing and attend to +local government, that is, the oppression of the poor; and altogether +this accursed everyday life of theirs is instinct with the four sins +crying to heaven for vengeance, and there is no humanity in it, and no +simplicity, and no recollection. I know whole quarters of the towns of +that life where they have never heard of Virtus or Verecundia or +Pietas. + +LECTOR. Then-- + +AUCTOR. Alas! alas! Dear Lector, in these houses there is no honest +dust. Not a bottle of good wine or bad; no prints inherited from +one's uncle, and no children's books by Mrs Barbauld or Miss +Edgeworth; no human disorder, nothing of that organic comfort which +makes a man's house like a bear's fur for him. They have no debts, +they do not read in bed, and they will have difficulty in saving their +souls. + +LECTOR. Then tell me, how would you treat of common things? + +AUCTOR. Why, I would leave them alone; but if I had to treat of them I +will show you how I would do it. Let us have a dialogue about this +road from Moutier. + +LECTOR. By all means. + +AUCTOR. What a terrible thing it is to miss one's sleep. I can hardly +bear the heat of the road, and my mind is empty! + +LECTOR. Why, you have just slept in a wood! + +AUCTOR. Yes, but that is not enough. One must sleep at night. + +LECTOR. My brother often complains of insomnia. He is a policeman. + +AUCTOR. Indeed? It is a sad affliction. + +LECTOR. Yes, indeed. + +AUCTOR. Indeed, yes. + +LECTOR. I cannot go on like this. + +AUCTOR. There. That is just what I was saying. One cannot treat of +common things: it is not literature; and for my part, if I were the +editor even of a magazine, and the author stuck in a string of +dialogue, I would not pay him by the page but by the word, and I would +count off 5 per cent for epigrams, 10 per cent for dialect, and some +quarter or so for those stage directions in italics which they use to +pad out their work. + +So. I will not repeat this experiment, but next time I come to a bit +of road about which there is nothing to say, I will tell a story or +sing a song, and to that I pledge myself. + +By the way, I am reminded of something. Do you know those books and +stories in which parts of the dialogues often have no words at all? +Only dots and dashes and asterisks and interrogations? I wonder what +the people are paid for it? If I knew I would earn a mint of money, +for I believe I have a talent for it. Look at this-- + +There. That seems to me worth a good deal more money than all the +modern 'delineation of character', and 'folk' nonsense ever written. +What verve! What terseness! And yet how clear! + +LECTOR. Let us be getting on. + +AUCTOR. By all means, and let us consider more enduring things. + +After a few miles the road going upwards, I passed through another gap +in the hills and-- + +LECTOR. Pardon me, but I am still ruminating upon that little tragedy +of yours. Why was the guardian a duchess? + +AUCTOR. Well, it was a short play and modern, was it not? + +LECTOR. Yes. And therefore, of course, you must have a title in it. I +know that. I do not object to it. What I want to know is, why a +duchess? + +AUCTOR. On account of the reduction of scale: the concentration of the +thing. You see in the full play there would have been a lord, two +baronets, and say three ladies, and I could have put suitable words +into their mouths. As it was I had to make absolutely sure of the +element of nobility without any help, and, as it were, in one +startling moment. Do you follow? Is it not art? + +I cannot conceive why a pilgrimage, an adventure so naturally full of +great, wonderful, far-off and holy things should breed such fantastic +nonsense as all this; but remember at least the little acolyte of +Rheims, whose father, in 1512, seeing him apt for religion, put him +into a cassock and designed him for the Church, whereupon the +youngling began to be as careless and devilish as Mercury, putting +beeswax on the misericords, burning feathers in the censer, and even +going round himself with the plate without leave and scolding the rich +in loud whispers when they did not put in enough. So one way with +another they sent him home to his father; the archbishop thrusting him +out of the south porch with his own hands and giving him the Common or +Ferial Malediction, which is much the same as that used by carters to +stray dogs. + +When his father saw him he fumed terribly, cursing like a pagan, and +asking whether his son were a roysterer fit for the gallows as well as +a fool fit for a cassock. On hearing which complaint the son very +humbly and contritely said-- + +'It is not my fault but the contact with the things of the Church that +makes me gambol and frisk, just as the Devil they say is a good enough +fellow left to himself and is only moderately heated, yet when you put +him into holy water all the world is witness how he hisses and boils.' + +The boy then taking a little lamb which happened to be in the +drawing-room, said-- + +'Father, see this little lamb; how demure he is and how simple and +innocent, and how foolish and how tractable. Yet observe!' With that +he whipped the cassock from his arm where he was carrying it and threw +it all over the lamb, covering his head and body; and the lamb began +plunging and kicking and bucking and rolling and heaving and sliding +and rearing and pawing and most vigorously wrestling with the clerical +and hierarchically constraining garment of darkness, and bleating all +the while more and more angrily and loudly, for all the world like the +great goat Baphomet himself when the witches dance about him on +All-hallowe'en. But when the boy suddenly plucked off the cassock +again, the lamb, after sneezing a little and finding his feet, became +quite gentle once more, and looked only a little confused and dazed. + +'There, father,' said the boy, 'is proof to you of how the meekest may +be driven to desperation by the shackles I speak of, and which I pray +you never lay upon me again.' + +His father finding him so practical and wise made over his whole +fortune and business to him, and thus escaped the very heavy Heriot +and Death Dues of those days, for he was a Socage tenant of St Remi in +Double Burgage. But we stopped all that here in England by the statute +of Uses, and I must be getting back to the road before the dark +catches me. + +As I was saying, I came to a gap in the hills, and there was there a +house or two called Gansbrunnen, and one of the houses was an inn. +Just by the inn the road turned away sharply up the valley; the very +last slope of the Jura, the last parallel ridge, lay straight before +me all solemn, dark, and wooded, and making a high feathery line +against the noon. To cross this there was but a vague path rather +misleading, and the name of the mountain was Weissenstein. + +So before that last effort which should lead me over those thousands +of feet, and to nourish Instinct (which would be of use to me when I +got into that impenetrable wood), I turned into the inn for wine. + +A very old woman having the appearance of a witch sat at a dark table +by the little criss-cross window of the dark room. She was crooning to +herself, and I made the sign of the evil eye and asked her in French +for wine; but French she did not understand. Catching, however, two +words which sounded like the English 'White' and 'Red', I said 'Yaw' +after the last and nodded, and she brought up a glass of exceedingly +good red wine which I drank in silence, she watching me uncannily. + +Then I paid her with a five-franc piece, and she gave me a quantity of +small change rapidly, which, as I counted it, I found to contain one +Greek piece of fifty lepta very manifestly of lead. This I held up +angrily before her, and (not without courage, for it is hard to deal +with the darker powers) I recited to her slowly that familiar verse +which the well-known Satyricus Empiricius was for ever using in his +now classical attacks on the grammarians; and without any Alexandrian +twaddle of accents I intoned to her--and so left her astounded to +repentance or to shame. + +Then I went out into the sunlight, and crossing over running water put +myself out of her power. + +The wood went up darkly and the path branched here and there so that I +was soon uncertain of my way, but I followed generally what seemed to +me the most southerly course, and so came at last up steeply through a +dip or ravine that ended high on the crest of the ridge. + +Just as I came to the end of the rise, after perhaps an hour, perhaps +two, of that great curtain of forest which had held the mountain side, +the trees fell away to brushwood, there was a gate, and then the path +was lost upon a fine open sward which was the very top of the Jura and +the coping of that multiple wall which defends the Swiss Plain. I had +crossed it straight from edge to edge, never turning out of my way. + +It was too marshy to lie down on it, so I stood a moment to breathe +and look about me. + +It was evident that nothing higher remained, for though a new line of +wood--firs and beeches--stood before me, yet nothing appeared above +them, and I knew that they must be the fringe of the descent. I +approached this edge of wood, and saw that it had a rough fence of +post and rails bounding it, and as I was looking for the entry of a +path (for my original path was lost, as such tracks are, in the damp +grass of the little down) there came to me one of those great +revelations which betray to us suddenly the higher things and stand +afterwards firm in our minds. + +There, on this upper meadow, where so far I had felt nothing but the +ordinary gladness of The Summit, I had a vision. + +What was it I saw? If you think I saw this or that, and if you think I +am inventing the words, you know nothing of men. + +I saw between the branches of the trees in front of me a sight in the +sky that made me stop breathing, just as great danger at sea, or great +surprise in love, or a great deliverance will make a man stop +breathing. I saw something I had known in the West as a boy, something +I had never seen so grandly discovered as was this. In between the +branches of the trees was a great promise of unexpected lights beyond. + +I pushed left and right along that edge of the forest and along the +fence that bound it, until I found a place where the pine-trees +stopped, leaving a gap, and where on the right, beyond the gap, was a +tree whose leaves had failed; there the ground broke away steeply +below me, and the beeches fell, one below the other, like a vast +cascade, towards the limestone cliffs that dipped down still further, +beyond my sight. I looked through this framing hollow and praised God. +For there below me, thousands of feet below me, was what seemed an +illimitable plain; at the end of that world was an horizon, and the +dim bluish sky that overhangs an horizon. + +There was brume in it and thickness. One saw the sky beyond the edge +of the world getting purer as the vault rose. But right up--a belt in +that empyrean--ran peak and field and needle of intense ice, remote, +remote from the world. Sky beneath them and sky above them, a +steadfast legion, they glittered as though with the armour of the +immovable armies of Heaven. Two days' march, three days' march away, +they stood up like the walls of Eden. I say it again, they stopped my +breath. I had seen them. + +So little are we, we men: so much are we immersed in our muddy and +immediate interests that we think, by numbers and recitals, to +comprehend distance or time, or any of our limiting infinities. Here +were these magnificent creatures of God, I mean the Alps, which now +for the first time I saw from the height of the Jura; and because they +were fifty or sixty miles away, and because they were a mile or two +high, they were become something different from us others, and could +strike one motionless with the awe of supernatural things. Up there in +the sky, to which only clouds belong and birds and the last trembling +colours of pure light, they stood fast and hard; not moving as do the +things of the sky. They were as distant as the little upper clouds of +summer, as fine and tenuous; but in their reflection and in their +quality as it were of weapons (like spears and shields of an unknown +array) they occupied the sky with a sublime invasion: and the things +proper to the sky were forgotten by me in their presence as I gazed. + +To what emotion shall I compare this astonishment? So, in first love +one finds that _this_ can belong to _me._ + +Their sharp steadfastness and their clean uplifted lines compelled my +adoration. Up there, the sky above and below them, part of the sky, +but part of us, the great peaks made communion between that homing +creeping part of me which loves vineyards and dances and a slow +movement among pastures, and that other part which is only properly at +home in Heaven. I say that this kind of description is useless, and +that it is better to address prayers to such things than to attempt to +interpret them for others. + +These, the great Alps, seen thus, link one in some way to one's +immortality. Nor is it possible to convey, or even to suggest, those +few fifty miles, and those few thousand feet; there is something more. +Let me put it thus: that from the height of Weissenstein I saw, as it +were, my religion. I mean, humility, the fear of death, the terror of +height and of distance, the glory of God, the infinite potentiality of +reception whence springs that divine thirst of the soul; my aspiration +also towards completion, and my confidence in the dual destiny. For I +know that we laughers have a gross cousinship with the most high, and +it is this contrast and perpetual quarrel which feeds a spring of +merriment in the soul of a sane man. + +Since I could now see such a wonder and it could work such things in +my mind, therefore, some day I should be part of it. That is what I +felt. + +This it is also which leads some men to climb mountain-tops, but not +me, for I am afraid of slipping down. + +Then you will say, if I felt all this, why do I draw it, and put it in +my book, seeing that my drawings are only for fun? My jest drags down +such a memory and makes it ludicrous. Well, I said in my beginning +that I would note down whatever most impressed me, except figures, +which I cannot draw (I mean figures of human beings, for mathematical +figures I can draw well enough), and I have never failed in this +promise, except where, as in the case of Porrentruy, my drawing was +blown away by the wind and lost--- if anything ever is lost. So I put +down here this extraordinary drawing of what I saw, which is about as +much like it as a printed song full of misprints is to that same song +sung by an army on the march. And I am consoled by remembering that if +I could draw infinitely well, then it would become sacrilege to +attempt to draw that sight. Moreover, I am not going to waste any more +time discussing why I put in this little drawing. If it disturbs your +conception of what it was I saw, paste over it a little bit of paper. +I have made it small for the purpose; but remember that the paper +should be thin and opaque, for thick paper will interfere with the +shape of this book, and transparent paper will disturb you with a +memory of the picture. + +It was all full of this, as a man is full of music just after hearing +it, that I plunged down into the steep forest that led towards the +great plain; then, having found a path, I worked zig-zag down it by a +kind of gully that led through to a place where the limestone cliffs +were broken, and (so my map told me) to the town of Soleure, which +stands at the edge of the plain upon the river Aar. + +I was an hour or more going down the enormous face of the Jura, which +is here an escarpment, a cliff of great height, and contains but few +such breaks by which men can pick their way. It was when I was about +half-way down the mountain side that its vastness most impressed me. +And yet it had been but a platform as it were, from which to view the +Alps and their much greater sublimity. + +This vastness, even of these limestone mountains, took me especially +at a place where the path bordered a steep, or rather precipitous, +lift of white rock to which only here and there a tree could cling. + +I was still very high up, but looking somewhat more eastward than +before, and the plain went on inimitably towards some low vague hills; +nor in that direction could any snow be seen in the sky. Then at last +I came to the slopes which make a little bank under the mountains, and +there, finding a highroad, and oppressed somewhat suddenly by the +afternoon heat of those low places, I went on more slowly towards +Soleure. + +Beside me, on the road, were many houses, shaded by great trees, built +of wood, and standing apart. To each of them almost was a little +water-wheel, run by the spring which came down out of the ravine. The +water-wheel in most cases worked a simple little machine for sawing +planks, but in other cases it seemed used for some purpose inside the +house, which I could not divine; perhaps for spinning. + +All this place was full of working, and the men sang and spoke at +their work in German, which I could not understand. I did indeed find +one man, a young hay-making man carrying a scythe, who knew a little +French and was going my way. I asked him, therefore, to teach me +German, but he had not taught me much before we were at the gates of +the old town and then I left him. It is thus, you will see, that for +my next four days or five, which were passed among the German-speaking +Swiss, I was utterly alone. + +This book must not go on for ever; therefore I cannot say very much +about Soleure, although there is a great deal to be said about it. It +is distinguished by an impression of unity, and of civic life, which I +had already discovered in all these Swiss towns; for though men talk +of finding the Middle Ages here or there, I for my part never find it, +save where there has been democracy to preserve it. Thus I have seen +the Middle Ages especially alive in the small towns of Northern +France, and I have seen the Middle Ages in the University of Paris. +Here also in Switzerland. As I had seen it at St Ursanne, so I found +it now at Soleure. There were huge gates flanking the town, and there +was that evening a continual noise of rifles, at which the Swiss are +for ever practising. Over the church, however, I saw something +terribly seventeenth century, namely, Jaweh in great Hebrew letters +upon its front. + +Well, dining there of the best they had to give me (for this was +another milestone in my pilgrimage), I became foolishly refreshed and +valiant, and instead of sleeping in Soleure, as a wise man would have +done, I determined, though it was now nearly dark, to push on upon the +road to Burgdorf. + +I therefore crossed the river Aar, which is here magnificently broad +and strong, and has bastions jutting out into it in a very bold +fashion. I saw the last colourless light of evening making its waters +seem like dull metal between the gloomy banks; I felt the beginnings +of fatigue, and half regretted my determination. But as it is quite +certain that one should never go back, I went on in the darkness, I do +not know how many miles, till I reached some cross roads and an inn. + +This inn was very poor, and the people had never heard in their lives, +apparently, that a poor man on foot might not be able to talk German, +which seemed to me an astonishing thing; and as I sat there ordering +beer for myself and for a number of peasants (who but for this would +have me their butt, and even as it was found something monstrous in +me), I pondered during my continual attempts to converse with them +(for I had picked up some ten words of their language) upon the folly +of those who imagine the world to be grown smaller by railways. + +I suppose this place was more untouched, as the phrase goes, that is, +more living, more intense, and more powerful to affect others, +whenever it may be called to do so, than are even the dear villages of +Sussex that lie under my downs. For those are haunted by a nearly +cosmopolitan class of gentry, who will have actors, financiers, and +what not to come and stay with them, and who read the paper, and from +time to time address their village folk upon matters of politics. But +here, in this broad plain by the banks of the Emmen, they knew of +nothing but themselves and the Church which is the common bond of +Europe, and they were in the right way. Hence it was doubly hard on me +that they should think me such a stranger. + +When I had become a little morose at their perpetual laughter, I asked +for a bed, and the landlady, a woman of some talent, showed me on her +fingers that the beds were 50c., 75c., and a franc. I determined upon +the best, and was given indeed a very pleasant room, having in it the +statue of a saint, and full of a country air. But I had done too much +in this night march, as you will presently learn, for my next day was +a day without salt, and in it appreciation left me. And this breakdown +of appreciation was due to what I did not know at the time to be +fatigue, but to what was undoubtedly a deep inner exhaustion. + +When I awoke next morning it was as it always is: no one was awake, +and I had the field to myself, to slip out as I chose. I looked out of +the window into the dawn. The race had made its own surroundings. + +These people who suffocated with laughter at the idea of one's knowing +no German, had produced, as it were, a German picture by the mere +influence of years and years of similar thoughts. + +Out of my window I saw the eaves coming low down. I saw an apple-tree +against the grey light. The tangled grass in the little garden, the +dog-kennel, and the standing butt were all what I had seen in those +German pictures which they put into books for children, and which are +drawn in thick black lines: nor did I see any reason why tame faces +should not appear in that framework. I expected the light lank hair +and the heavy unlifting step of the people whose only emotions are in +music. + +But it was too early for any one to be about, and my German garden, +_si j'ose m'exprimer ainsi,_ had to suffice me for an impression of +the Central Europeans. I gazed at it a little while as it grew +lighter. Then I went downstairs and slipped the latch (which, being +German, was of a quaint design). I went out into the road and sighed +profoundly. + +All that day was destined to be covered, so far as my spirit was +concerned, with a motionless lethargy. Nothing seemed properly to +interest or to concern me, and not till evening was I visited by any +muse. Even my pain (which was now dull and chronic) was no longer a +subject for my entertainment, and I suffered from an uneasy isolation +that had not the merit of sharpness and was no spur to the mind. I had +the feeling that every one I might see would be a stranger, and that +their language would be unfamiliar to me, and this, unlike most men +who travel, I had never felt before. + +The reason being this: that if a man has English thoroughly he can +wander over a great part of the world familiarly, and meet men with +whom he can talk. And if he has French thoroughly all Italy, and I +suppose Spain, certainly Belgium, are open to him. Not perhaps that he +will understand what he hears or will be understood of others, but +that the order and nature of the words and the gestures accompanying +them are his own. Here, however, I, to whom English and French were +the same, was to spend (it seemed) whole days among a people who put +their verbs at the end, where the curses or the endearments come in +French and English, and many of whose words stand for ideas we have +not got. I had no room for good-fellowship. I could not sit at tables +and expand the air with terrible stories of adventure, nor ask about +their politics, nor provoke them to laughter or sadness by my tales. +It seemed a poor pilgrimage taken among dumb men. + +Also I have no doubt that I had experienced the ebb of some vitality, +for it is the saddest thing about us that this bright spirit with +which we are lit from within like lanterns, can suffer dimness. Such +frailty makes one fear that extinction is our final destiny, and it +saps us with numbness, and we are less than ourselves. Seven nights +had I been on pilgrimage, and two of them had I passed in the open. +Seven great heights had I climbed: the Forest, Archettes, the Ballon, +the Mont Terrible, the Watershed, the pass by Moutier, the +Weissenstein. Seven depths had I fallen to: twice to the Moselle, the +gap of Belfort, the gorge of the Doubs, Glovelier valley, the hole of +Moutier, and now this plain of the Aar. I had marched 180 miles. It +was no wonder that on this eighth day I was oppressed and that all the +light long I drank no good wine, met no one to remember well, nor sang +any songs. All this part of my way was full of what they call Duty, +and I was sustained only by my knowledge that the vast mountains +(which had disappeared) would be part of my life very soon if I still +went on steadily towards Rome. + +The sun had risen when I reached Burgdorf, and I there went to a +railway station, and outside of it drank coffee and ate bread. I also +bought old newspapers in French, and looked at everything wearily and +with sad eyes. There was nothing to draw. How can a man draw pain in +the foot and knee? And that was all there was remarkable at that +moment. + +I watched a train come in. It was full of tourists, who (it may have +been a subjective illusion) seemed to me common and worthless people, +and sad into the bargain. It was going to Interlaken; and I felt a +languid contempt for people who went to Interlaken instead of driving +right across the great hills to Rome. + +After an hour, or so of this melancholy dawdling, I put a map before +me on a little marble table, ordered some more coffee, and blew into +my tepid life a moment of warmth by the effort of coming to a +necessary decision. I had (for the first time since I had left +Lorraine) the choice of two roads; and why this was so the following +map will make clear. + +Here you see that there is no possibility of following the straight +way to Rome, but that one must go a few miles east or west of it. From +Burgundy one has to strike a point on the sources of the Emmen, and +Burgdorf is on the Emmen. Therefore one might follow the Emmen all the +way up. But it seemed that the road climbed up above a gorge that way, +whereas by the other (which is just as straight) the road is good (it +seemed) and fairly level. So I chose this latter Eastern way, which, +at the bifurcation, takes one up a tributary of the Emmen, then over a +rise to the Upper Emmen again. + +Do you want it made plainer than that? I should think not. And, tell +me--what can it profit you to know these geographical details? Believe +me, I write them down for my own gratification, not yours. + +I say a day without salt. A trudge. The air was ordinary, the colours +common; men, animals, and trees indifferent. Something had stopped +working. + +Our energy also is from God, and we should never be proud of it, even +if we can cover thirty miles day after day (as I can), or bend a peony +in one's hand as could Frocot, the driver in my piece--a man you never +knew--or write bad verse very rapidly as can so many moderns. I say +our energy also is from God, and we should never be proud of it as +though it were from ourselves, but we should accept it as a kind of +present, and we should be thankful for it; just as a man should thank +God for his reason, as did the madman in the Story of the Rose, who +thanked God that he at least was sane though all the rest of the world +had recently lost their reason. + +Indeed, this defaillance and breakdown which comes from time to time +over the mind is a very sad thing, but it can be made of great use to +us if we will draw from it the lesson that we ourselves are nothing. +Perhaps it is a grace. Perhaps in these moments our minds repose ... +Anyhow, a day without salt. + +You understand that under (or in) these circumstances-- + +When I was at Oxford there was a great and terrible debate that shook +the Empire, and that intensely exercised the men whom we send out to +govern the Empire, and which, therefore, must have had its effect upon +the Empire, as to whether one should say 'under these circumstances' +or 'in these circumstances'; nor did I settle matters by calling a +conclave and suggesting _Quae quum ita sint_ as a common formula, +because a new debate arose upon when you should say _sint_ and when +you should say _sunt,_ and they all wrangled like kittens in a basket. + +Until there rose a deep-voiced man from an outlying college, who said, +'For my part I will say that under these circumstances, or in these +circumstances, or in spite of these circumstances, or hovering +playfully above these circumstances, or-- + +I take you all for Fools and Pedants, in the Chief, in the Chevron, +and in the quarter Fess. Fools absolute, and Pedants lordless. Free +Fools, unlanded Fools, and Fools incommensurable, and Pedants +displayed and rampant of the Tierce Major. Fools incalculable and +Pedants irreparable; indeed, the arch Fool-pedants in a universe of +pedantic folly and foolish pedantry, O you pedant-fools of the world!' + +But by this time he was alone, and thus was this great question never +properly decided. + +Under these circumstances, then (or in these circumstances), it would +profit you but little if I were to attempt the description of the +Valley of the Emmen, of the first foot-hills of the Alps, and of the +very uninteresting valley which runs on from Langnau. + +I had best employ my time in telling the story of the Hungry Student. + +LECTOR. And if you are so worn-out and bereft of all emotions, how can +you tell a story? + +AUCTOR. These two conditions permit me. First, that I am writing some +time after, and that I have recovered; secondly, that the story is not +mine, but taken straight out of that nationalist newspaper which had +served me so long to wrap up my bread and bacon in my haversack. This +is the story, and I will tell it you. + +Now, I think of it, it would be a great waste of time. Here am I no +farther than perhaps a third of my journey, and I have already +admitted so much digression that my pilgrimage is like the story of a +man asleep and dreaming, instead of the plain, honest, and +straightforward narrative of fact. I will therefore postpone the Story +of the Hungry Student till I get into the plains of Italy, or into the +barren hills of that peninsula, or among the over-well-known towns of +Tuscany, or in some other place where a little padding will do neither +you nor me any great harm. + +On the other hand, do not imagine that I am going to give you any kind +of description of this intolerable day's march. If you want some kind +of visual Concept (pretty word), take all these little chalets which +were beginning and make what you can of them. + +LECTOR. Where are they? + +AUCTOR. They are still in Switzerland; not here. They were +overnumerous as I maundered up from where at last the road leaves the +valley and makes over a little pass for a place called Schangnau. But +though it is not a story, on the contrary, an exact incident and the +truth--a thing that I would swear to in the court of justice, or quite +willingly and cheerfully believe if another man told it to me; or even +take as historical if I found it in a modern English history of the +Anglo-Saxon Church--though, I repeat, it is a thing actually lived, +yet I will tell it you. + +It was at the very end of the road, and when an enormous weariness had +begun to add some kind of interest to this stuffless episode of the +dull day, that a peasant with a brutal face, driving a cart very +rapidly, came up with me. I said to him nothing, but he said to me +some words in German which I did not understand. We were at that +moment just opposite a little inn upon the right hand of the road, and +the peasant began making signs to me to hold his horse for him while +he went in and drank. + +How willing I was to do this you will not perhaps understand, unless +you have that delicate and subtle pleasure in the holding of horses' +heads, which is the boast and glory of some rare minds. And I was the +more willing to do it from the fact that I have the habit of this kind +of thing, acquired in the French manoeuvres, and had once held a horse +for no less a person than a General of Division, who gave me a franc +for it, and this franc I spent later with the men of my battery, +purchasing wine. So to make a long story short, as the publisher said +when he published the popular edition of _Pamela,_ I held the horse +for the peasant; always, of course, under the implicit understanding +that he should allow me when he came out to have a drink, which I, of +course, expected him to bring in his own hands. + +Far from it. I can understand the anger which some people feel against +the Swiss when they travel in that country, though I will always hold +that it is monstrous to come into a man's country of your own accord, +and especially into a country so free and so well governed as is +Switzerland, and then to quarrel with the particular type of citizen +that you find there. + +Let us not discuss politics. The point is that the peasant sat in +there drinking with his friends for a good three-quarters of an hour. +Now and then a man would come out and look at the sky, and cough and +spit and turn round again and say something to the people within in +German, and go off; but no one paid the least attention to me as I +held this horse. + +I was already in a very angry and irritable mood, for the horse was +restive and smelt his stable, and wished to break away from me. And +all angry and irritable as I was, I turned around to see if this man +were coming to relieve me; but I saw him laughing and joking with the +people inside; and they were all looking my way out of their window as +they laughed. I may have been wrong, but I thought they were laughing +at me. A man who knows the Swiss intimately, and who has written a +book upon 'The Drink Traffic: The Example of Switzerland', tells me +they certainly were not laughing at me; at any rate, I thought they +were, and moved by a sudden anger I let go the reins, gave the horse a +great clout, and set him off careering and galloping like a whirlwind +down the road from which he had come, with the bit in his teeth and +all the storms of heaven in his four feet. Instantly, as you may +imagine, all the scoffers came tumbling out of the inn, hullabooling, +gesticulating, and running like madmen after the horse, and one old +man even turned to protest to me. But I, setting my teeth, grasping my +staff, and remembering the purpose of my great journey, set on up the +road again with my face towards Rome. + +I sincerely hope, trust, and pray that this part of my journey will +not seem as dull to you as it did to me at the time, or as it does to +me now while I write of it. But now I come to think of it, it cannot +seem as dull, for I had to walk that wretched thirty miles or so all +the day long, whereas you have not even to read it; for I am not going +to say anything more about it, but lead you straight to the end. + +Oh, blessed quality of books, that makes them a refuge from living! +For in a book everything can be made to fit in, all tedium can be +skipped over, and the intense moments can be made timeless and +eternal, and as a poet who is too little known has well said in one of +his unpublished lyrics, we, by the art of writing-- + + Can fix the high elusive hour + And stand in things divine. + +And as for high elusive hours, devil a bit of one was there all the +way from Burgdorf to the Inn of the Bridge, except the ecstatic flash +of joy when I sent that horse careering down the road with his bad +master after him and all his gang shouting among the hollow hills. + +So. It was already evening. I was coming, more tired than ever, to a +kind of little pass by which my road would bring me back again to the +Emmen, now nothing but a torrent. All the slope down the other side of +the little pass (three or four hundred feet perhaps) was covered by a +village, called, if I remember right, Schangnau, and there was a large +school on my right and a great number of children there dancing round +in a ring and singing songs. The sight so cheered me that I +determined to press on up the valley, though with no definite goal for +the night. It was a foolish decision, for I was really in the heart of +an unknown country, at the end of roads, at the sources of rivers, +beyond help. I knew that straight before me, not five miles away, was +the Brienzer Grat, the huge high wall which it was my duty to cross +right over from side to side. I did not know whether or not there was +an inn between me and that vast barrier. + +The light was failing. I had perhaps some vague idea of sleeping out, +but that would have killed me, for a heavy mist that covered all the +tops of the hills and that made a roof over the valley, began to drop +down a fine rain; and, as they sing in church on Christmas Eve, 'the +heavens sent down their dews upon a just man'. But that was written in +Palestine, where rain is a rare blessing; there and then in the cold +evening they would have done better to have warmed the righteous. +There is no controlling them; they mean well, but they bungle +terribly. + +The road stopped being a road, and became like a Californian trail. I +approached enormous gates in the hills, high, precipitous, and narrow. +The mist rolled over them, hiding their summits and making them seem +infinitely lifted up and reaching endlessly into the thick sky; the +straight, tenuous lines of the rain made them seem narrower still. +Just as I neared them, hobbling, I met a man driving two cows, and +said to him the word, 'Guest-house?' to which he said 'Yaw!' and +pointed out a clump of trees to me just under the precipice and right +in the gates I speak of. So I went there over an old bridge, and found +a wooden house and went in. + +It was a house which one entered without ceremony. The door was open, +and one walked straight into a great room. There sat three men playing +at cards. I saluted them loudly in French, English, and Latin, but +they did not understand me, and what seemed remarkable in an hotel +(for it was an hotel rather than an inn), no one in the house +understood me--neither the servants nor any one; but the servants did +not laugh at me as had the poor people near Burgdorf, they only stood +round me looking at me patiently in wonder as cows do at trains. Then +they brought me food, and as I did not know the names of the different +kinds of food, I had to eat what they chose; and the angel of that +valley protected me from boiled mutton. I knew, however, the word +Wein, which is the same in all languages, and so drank a quart of it +consciously and of a set purpose. Then I slept, and next morning at +dawn I rose up, put on my thin, wet linen clothes, and went +downstairs. No one was about. I looked around for something to fill my +sack. I picked up a great hunk of bread from the dining-room table, +and went out shivering into the cold drizzle that was still falling +from a shrouded sky. Before me, a great forbidding wall, growing +blacker as it went upwards and ending in a level line of mist, stood +the Brienzer Grat. + +To understand what I next had to do it is necessary to look back at +the little map on page 105. + +You will observe that the straight way to Rome cuts the Lake of Brienz +rather to the eastward of the middle, and then goes slap over +Wetterhorn and strikes the Rhone Valley at a place called Ulrichen. +That is how a bird would do it, if some High Pope of Birds lived in +Rome and needed visiting, as, for instance, the Great Auk; or if some +old primal relic sacred to birds was connected therewith, as, for +instance, the bones of the Dodo.... But I digress. The point is that +the straight line takes one over the Brienzer Grat, over the lake, and +then over the Wetterhorn. That was manifestly impossible. But whatever +of it was possible had to be done, and among the possible things was +clambering over the high ridge of the Brienzer Grat instead of going +round like a coward by Interlaken. After I had clambered over it, +however, needs must I should have to take a pass called the Grimsel +Pass and reach the Rhone Valley that way. It was with such a +determination that I had come here to the upper waters of the Emmen, +and stood now on a moist morning in the basin where that stream rises, +at the foot of the mountain range that divided me from the lake. + +The Brienzer Grat is an extraordinary thing. It is quite straight; its +summits are, of course, of different heights, but from below they seem +even, like a ridge: and, indeed, the whole mountain is more like a +ridge than any other I have seen. At one end is a peak called the 'Red +Horn', the other end falls suddenly above Interlaken, and wherever you +should cut it you would get a section like this, for it is as steep as +anything can be short of sheer rock. There are no precipices on it, +though there are nasty slabs quite high enough to kill a man--I saw +several of three or four hundred feet. It is about five or six +thousand feet high, and it stands right up and along the northern +shore of the lake of Brienz. I began the ascent. + +Spongy meads, that soughed under the feet and grew steeper as one +rose, took up the first few hundred feet. Little rivulets of mere +dampness ran in among the under moss, and such very small hidden +flowers as there were drooped with the surfeit of moisture. The rain +was now indistinguishable from a mist, and indeed I had come so near +to the level belt of cloud, that already its gloom was exchanged for +that diffused light which fills vapours from within and lends them +their mystery. A belt of thick brushwood and low trees lay before me, +clinging to the slope, and as I pushed with great difficulty and many +turns to right and left through its tangle a wisp of cloud enveloped +me, and from that time on I was now in, now out, of a deceptive +drifting fog, in which it was most difficult to gauge one's progress. + +Now and then a higher mass of rock, a peak on the ridge, would showr +clear through a corridor of cloud and be hidden again; also at times I +would stand hesitating before a sharp wall or slab, and wait for a +shifting of the fog to make sure of the best way round. I struck what +might have been a loose path or perhaps only a gully; lost it again +and found it again. In one place I climbed up a jagged surface for +fifty feet, only to find when it cleared that it was no part of the +general ascent, but a mere obstacle which might have been outflanked. +At another time I stopped for a good quarter of an hour at an edge +that might have been an indefinite fall of smooth rock, but that +turned out to be a short drop, easy for a man, and not much longer +than my body. So I went upwards always, drenched and doubting, and not +sure of the height I had reached at any time. + +At last I came to a place where a smooth stone lay between two +pillared monoliths, as though it had been put there for a bench. +Though all around me was dense mist, yet I could see above me the +vague shape of a summit looming quite near. So I said to myself-- + +'I will sit here and wait till it grows lighter and clearer, for I +must now be within two or three hundred feet of the top of the ridge, +and as anything at all may be on the other side, I had best go +carefully and knowing my way.' + +So I sat down facing the way I had to go and looking upwards, till +perhaps a movement of the air might show me against a clear sky the +line of the ridge, and so let me estimate the work that remained to +do. I kept my eyes fixed on the point where I judged that sky line to +lie, lest I should miss some sudden gleam revealing it; and as I sat +there I grew mournful and began to consider the folly of climbing this +great height on an empty stomach. The soldiers of the Republic fought +their battles often before breakfast, but never, I think, without +having drunk warm coffee, and no one should attempt great efforts +without some such refreshment before starting. Indeed, my fasting, +and the rare thin air of the height, the chill and the dampness that +had soaked my thin clothes through and through, quite lowered my blood +and left it piano, whimpering and irresolute. I shivered and demanded +the sun. + +Then I bethought me of the hunk of bread I had stolen, and pulling it +out of my haversack I began to munch that ungrateful breakfast. It was +hard and stale, and gave me little sustenance; I still gazed upwards +into the uniform meaningless light fog, looking for the ridge. + +Suddenly, with no warning to prepare the mind, a faint but distinct +wind blew upon me, the mist rose in a wreath backward and upward, and +I was looking through clear immensity, not at any ridge, but over an +awful gulf at great white fields of death. The Alps were right upon me +and before me, overwhelming and commanding empty downward distances of +air. Between them and me was a narrow dreadful space of nothingness +and silence, and a sheer mile below us both, a floor to that +prodigious hollow, lay the little lake. + +My stone had not been a halting-place at all, but was itself the +summit of the ridge, and those two rocks on either side of it framed a +notch upon the very edge and skyline of the high hills of Brienz. + +Surprise and wonder had not time to form in my spirit before both were +swallowed up by fear. The proximity of that immense wall of cold, the +Alps, seen thus full from the level of its middle height and +comprehended as it cannot be from the depths; its suggestion of +something never changing throughout eternity--yet dead--was a threat +to the eager mind. They, the vast Alps, all wrapped round in ice, +frozen, and their immobility enhanced by the delicate, roaming veils +which (as from an attraction) hovered in their hollows, seemed to halt +the process of living. And the living soul whom they thus perturbed +was supported by no companionship. There were no trees or blades of +grass around me, only the uneven and primal stones of that height. +There were no birds in the gulf; there was no sound. And the whiteness +of the glaciers, the blackness of the snow-streaked rocks beyond, was +glistening and unsoftened. There had come something evil into their +sublimity. I was afraid. + +Nor could I bear to look downwards. The slope was in no way a danger. +A man could walk up it without often using his hands, and a man could +go down it slowly without any direct fall, though here and there he +would have to turn round at each dip or step and hold with his hands +and feel a little for his foothold. I suppose the general slope, down, +down, to where the green began was not sixty degrees, but have you +ever tried looking down five thousand feet at sixty degrees? It drags +the mind after it, and I could not bear to begin the descent. + +However I reasoned with myself. I said to myself that a man should +only be afraid of real dangers. That nightmare was not for the +daylight. That there was now no mist but a warm sun. Then choosing a +gully where water sometimes ran, but now dry, I warily began to +descend, using my staff and leaning well backwards. + +There was this disturbing thing about the gully, that it went in +steps, and before each step one saw the sky just a yard or two ahead: +one lost the comforting sight of earth. One knew of course that it +would only be a little drop, and that the slope would begin again, but +it disturbed one. And it is a trial to drop or clamber down, say +fourteen or fifteen feet, sometimes twenty, and then to find no flat +foothold but that eternal steep beginning again. And this outline in +which I have somewhat, but not much, exaggerated the slope, will show +what I mean. The dotted line is the line of vision just as one got to +a 'step'. The little figure is AUCTOR. LECTOR is up in the air looking +at him. Observe the perspective of the lake below, but make no +comments. + +I went very slowly. When I was about half-way down and had come to a +place where a shoulder of heaped rock stood on my left and where +little parallel ledges led up to it, having grown accustomed to the +descent and easier in my mind, I sat down on a slab and drew +imperfectly the things I saw: the lake below me, the first forests +clinging to the foot of the Alps beyond, their higher slopes of snow, +and the clouds that had now begun to gather round them and that +altogether hid the last third of their enormous height. + +Then I saw a steamer on the lake. I felt in touch with men. The slope +grew easier. I snapped my fingers at the great devils that haunt high +mountains. I sniffed the gross and comfortable air of the lower +valleys, I entered the belt of wood and was soon going quite a pace +through the trees, for I had found a path, and was now able to sing. +So I did. + +At last I saw through the trunks, but a few hundred feet below me, the +highroad that skirts the lake. I left the path and scrambled straight +down to it. I came to a wall which I climbed, and found myself in +somebody's garden. Crossing this and admiring its wealth and order (I +was careful not to walk on the lawns), I opened a little private gate +and came on to the road, and from there to Brienz was but a short way +along a fine hard surface in a hot morning sun, with the gentle lake +on my right hand not five yards away, and with delightful trees upon +my left, caressing and sometimes even covering me with their shade. + +I was therefore dry, ready and contented when I entered by mid morning +the curious town of Brienz, which is all one long street, and of which +the population is Protestant. I say dry, ready and contented; dry in +my clothes, ready for food, contented with men and nature. But as I +entered I squinted up that interminable slope, I saw the fog wreathing +again along the ridge so infinitely above me, and I considered myself +a fool to have crossed the Brienzer Grat without breakfast. But I +could get no one in Brienz to agree with me, because no one thought I +had done it, though several people there could talk French. + +The Grimsel Pass is the valley of the Aar; it is also the eastern +flank of that great _massif,_ or bulk and mass of mountains called the +Bernese Oberland. Western Switzerland, you must know, is not (as I +first thought it was when I gazed down from the Weissenstein) a plain +surrounded by a ring of mountains, but rather it is a plain in its +northern half (the plain of the lower Aar), and in its southern half +it is two enormous parallel lumps of mountains. I call them 'lumps', +because they are so very broad and tortuous in their plan that they +are hardly ranges. Now these two lumps are the Bernese Oberland and +the Pennine Alps, and between them runs a deep trench called the +valley of the Rhone. Take Mont Blanc in the west and a peak called the +Crystal Peak over the Val Bavona on the east, and they are the +flanking bastions of one great wall, the Pennine Alps. Take the +Diablerets on the west, and the Wetterhorn on the east, and they are +the flanking bastions of another great wall, the Bernese Oberland. And +these two walls are parallel, with the Rhone in between. + +Now these two walls converge at a point where there is a sort of knot +of mountain ridges, and this point may be taken as being on the +boundary between Eastern and Western Switzerland. At this wonderful +point the Ticino, the Rhone, the Aar, and the Reuss all begin, and it +is here that the simple arrangement of the Alps to the west turns into +the confused jumble of the Alps to the east. + +When you are high up on either wall you can catch the plan of all +this, but to avoid a confused description and to help you to follow +the marvellous, Hannibalian and never-before-attempted charge and +march which I made, and which, alas! ended only in a glorious +defeat--to help you to picture faintly to yourselves the mirific and +horripilant adventure whereby I nearly achieved superhuman success in +spite of all the powers of the air, I append a little map which is +rough but clear and plain, and which I beg you to study closely, for +it will make it easy for you to understand what next happened in my +pilgrimage. + +The dark strips are the deep cloven valleys, the shaded belt is that +higher land which is yet passable by any ordinary man. The part left +white you may take to be the very high fields of ice and snow with +great peaks which an ordinary man must regard as impassable, unless, +indeed, he can wait for his weather and take guides and go on as a +tourist instead of a pilgrim. + +You will observe that I have marked five clefts or valleys. A is that +of the _Aar,_ and the little white patch at the beginning is the lake +of Brienz. B is that of the _Reuss._ C is that of the _Rhone;_ and all +these three are _north_ of the great watershed or main chain, and all +three are full of German-speaking people. + +On the other hand, D is the valley of the _Toccia,_ E of the _Maggia,_ +and F of the _Ticino._ All these three are _south_ of the great +watershed, and are inhabited by Italian-speaking people. All these +three lead down at last to Lake Major, and so to Milan and so to Rome. + +The straight line to Rome is marked on my map by a dotted line ending +in an arrow, and you will see that it was just my luck that it should +cross slap over that knot or tangle of ranges where all the rivers +spring. The problem was how to negotiate a passage from the valley of +the Aar to one of the three Italian valleys, without departing too far +from my straight line. To explain my track I must give the names of +all the high passes between the valleys. That between A and C is +called the _Grimsel;_ that between B and C the _Furka._ That between D +and C is the _Gries_ Pass, that between F and C the _Nufenen,_ and +that between E and F is not the easy thing it looks on the map; indeed +it is hardly a pass at all but a scramble over very high peaks, and it +is called the Crystalline Mountain. Finally, on the far right of my +map, you see a high passage between B and F. This is the famous St +Gothard. + +The straightest way of all was (1) over the _Grimsel,_ then, the +moment I got into the valley of the Rhone (2), up out of it again over +the _Nufenen,_ then the moment I was down into the valley of the +_Ticino_ (F), up out of it again (3) over the Crystalline to the +valley of the _Maggia_ (E). Once in the Maggia valley (the top of it +is called the _Val Bavona),_ it is a straight path for the lakes and +Rome. There were also these advantages: that I should be in a place +very rarely visited--all the guide-books are doubtful on it; that I +should be going quite straight; that I should be accomplishing a feat, +viz. the crossing of those high passes one after the other (and you +must remember that over the Nufenen there is no road at all). + +But every one I asked told me that thus early in the year (it was not +the middle of June) I could not hope to scramble over the Crystalline. +No one (they said) could do it and live. It was all ice and snow and +cold mist and verglas, and the precipices were smooth--a man would +never get across; so it was not worth while crossing the Nufenen Pass +if I was to be balked at the Crystal, and I determined on the Gries +Pass. I said to myself: 'I will go on over the Grimsel, and once in +the valley of the Rhone, I will walk a mile or two down to where the +Gries Pass opens, and I will go over it into Italy.' For the Gries +Pass, though not quite in the straight line, had this advantage, that +once over it you are really in Italy. In the Ticino valley or in the +Val Bavona, though the people are as Italian as Catullus, yet +politically they count as part of Switzerland; and therefore if you +enter Italy thereby, you are not suddenly introduced to that country, +but, as it were, inoculated, and led on by degrees, which is a pity. +For good things should come suddenly, like the demise of that wicked +man, Mr _(deleted by the censor),_ who had oppressed the poor for some +forty years, when he was shot dead from behind a hedge, and died in +about the time it takes to boil an egg, and there was an end of him. + +Having made myself quite clear that I had a formed plan to go over the +Grimsel by the new road, then up over the Gries, where there is no +road at all, and so down into the vale of the Tosa, and having +calculated that on the morrow I should be in Italy, I started out from +Brienz after eating a great meal, it being then about midday, and I +having already, as you know, crossed the Brienzer Grat since dawn. + +The task of that afternoon was more than I could properly undertake, +nor did I fulfil it. From Brienz to the top of the Grimsel is, as the +crow flies, quite twenty miles, and by the road a good twenty-seven. +It is true I had only come from over the high hills; perhaps six miles +in a straight line. But what a six miles! and all without food. Not +certain, therefore, how much of the pass I could really do that day, +but aiming at crossing it, like a fool, I went on up the first miles. + +For an hour or more after Brienz the road runs round the base of and +then away from a fine great rock. There is here an alluvial plain like +a continuation of the lake, and the Aar runs through it, canalized and +banked and straight, and at last the road also becomes straight. On +either side rise gigantic cliffs enclosing the valley, and (on the day +I passed there) going up into the clouds, which, though high, yet made +a roof for the valley. From the great mountains on the left the noble +rock jutted out alone and dominated the little plain; on the right the +buttresses of the main Alps all stood in a row, and between them went +whorls of vapour high, high up--just above the places where snow still +clung to the slopes. These whorls made the utmost steeps more and more +misty, till at last they were lost in a kind of great darkness, in +which the last and highest banks of ice seemed to be swallowed up. I +often stopped to gaze straight above me, and I marvelled at the +silence. + +It was the first part of the afternoon when I got to a place called +Meiringen, and I thought that there I would eat and drink a little +more. So I steered into the main street, but there I found such a +yelling and roaring as I had never heard before, and very damnable it +was; as though men were determined to do common evil wherever God has +given them a chance of living in awe and worship. + +For they were all bawling and howling, with great placards and +tickets, and saying, 'This way to the Extraordinary Waterfall; that +way to the Strange Cave. Come with me and you shall see the +never-to-be-forgotten Falls of the Aar,' and so forth. So that my +illusion of being alone in the roots of the world dropped off me very +quickly, and I wondered how people could be so helpless and foolish as +to travel about in Switzerland as tourists and meet with all this +vulgarity and beastliness. + +If a man goes to drink good wine he does not say, 'So that the wine be +good I do not mind eating strong pepper and smelling hartshorn as I +drink it,' and if a man goes to read a good verse, for instance, Jean +Richepin, he does not say, 'Go on playing on the trombone, go on +banging the cymbals; so long as I am reading good verse I am content.' +Yet men now go into the vast hills and sleep and live in their +recesses, and pretend to be indifferent to all the touts and shouters +and hurry and hotels and high prices and abominations. Thank God, it +goes in grooves! I say it again, thank God, the railways are trenches +that drain our modern marsh, for you have but to avoid railways, even +by five miles, and you can get more peace than would fill a nosebag. +All the world is my garden since they built railways, and gave me +leave to keep off them. + +Also I vowed a franc to the Black Virgin of La Delivrande (next time I +should be passing there) because I was delivered from being a tourist, +and because all this horrible noise was not being dinned at me (who +was a poor and dirty pilgrim, and no kind of prey for these cabmen, +and busmen, and guides and couriers), but at a crowd of drawn, sad, +jaded tourists that had come in by a train. + +Soon I had left them behind. The road climbed the first step upwards +in the valley, going round a rock on the other side of which the Aar +had cut itself a gorge and rushed in a fall and rapids. Then the road +went on and on weary mile after weary mile, and I stuck to it, and it +rose slowly all the time, and all the time the Aar went dashing by, +roaring and filling the higher valley with echoes. + +I got beyond the villages. The light shining suffused through the +upper mist began to be the light of evening. Rain, very fine and +slight, began to fall. It was cold. There met and passed me, going +down the road, a carriage with a hood up, driving at full speed. It +could not be from over the pass, for I knew that it was not yet open +for carriages or carts. It was therefore from a hotel somewhere, and +if there was a hotel I should find it. I looked back to ask the +distance, but they were beyond earshot, and so I went on. + +My boots in which I had sworn to walk to Rome were ruinous. Already +since the Weissenstein they had gaped, and now the Brienzer Grat had +made the sole of one of them quite free at the toe. It flapped as I +walked. Very soon I should be walking on my uppers. I limped also, and +I hated the wet cold rain. But I had to go on. Instead of flourishing +my staff and singing, I leant on it painfully and thought of duty, and +death, and dereliction, and every other horrible thing that begins +with a D. I had to go on. If I had gone back there was nothing for +miles. + +Before it was dark--indeed one could still read--I saw a group of +houses beyond the Aar, and soon after I saw that my road would pass +them, going over a bridge. When I reached them I went into the first, +saying to myself, 'I will eat, and if I can go no farther I will sleep +here.' + +There were in the house two women, one old, the other young; and they +were French-speaking, from the Vaud country. They had faces like +Scotch people, and were very kindly, but odd, being Calvinist. I said, +'Have you any beans?' They said, 'Yes.' I suggested they should make +me a dish of beans and bacon, and give me a bottle of wine, while I +dried myself at their great stove. All this they readily did for me, +and I ate heartily and drank heavily, and they begged me afterwards to +stop the night and pay them for it; but I was so set up by my food and +wine that I excused myself and went out again and took the road. It +was not yet dark. + +By some reflection from the fields of snow, which were now quite near +at hand through the mist, the daylight lingered astonishingly late. +The cold grew bitter as I went on through the gloaming. There were no +trees save rare and stunted pines. The Aar was a shallow brawling +torrent, thick with melting ice and snow and mud. Coarse grass grew on +the rocks sparsely; there were no flowers. The mist overhead was now +quite near, and I still went on and steadily up through the +half-light. It was as lonely as a calm at sea, except for the noise of +the river. I had overworn myself, and that sustaining surface which +hides from us in our health the abysses below the mind--I felt it +growing weak and thin. My fatigue bewildered me. The occasional steeps +beside the road, one especially beneath a high bridge where a +tributary falls into the Aar in a cascade, terrified me. They were +like the emptiness of dreams. At last it being now dark, and I having +long since entered the upper mist, or rather cloud (for I was now as +high as the clouds), I saw a light gleaming through the fog, just off +the road, through pine-trees. It was time. I could not have gone much +farther. + +To this I turned and found there one of those new hotels, not very +large, but very expensive. They knew me at once for what I was, and +welcomed me with joy. They gave me hot rum and sugar, a fine warm bed, +told me I was the first that had yet stopped there that year, and left +me to sleep very deep and yet in pain, as men sleep who are stunned. +But twice that night I woke suddenly, staring at darkness. I had +outworn the physical network upon which the soul depends, and I was +full of terrors. + +Next morning I had fine coffee and bread and butter and the rest, like +a rich man; in a gilded dining-room all set out for the rich, and +served by a fellow that bowed and scraped. Also they made me pay a +great deal, and kept their eyes off my boots, and were still courteous +to me, and I to them. Then I bought wine of them--the first wine not +of the country that I had drunk on this march, a Burgundy--and putting +it in my haversack with a nice white roll, left them to wait for the +next man whom the hills might send them. + +The clouds, the mist, were denser than ever in that early morning; one +could only see the immediate road. The cold was very great; my clothes +were not quite dried, but my heart was high, and I pushed along well +enough, though stiffly, till I came to what they call the Hospice, +which was once a monk-house, I suppose, but is now an inn. I had +brandy there, and on going out I found that it stood at the foot of a +sharp ridge which was the true Grimsel Pass, the neck which joins the +Bernese Oberland to the eastern group of high mountains. This ridge or +neck was steep like a pitched roof--very high I found it, and all of +black glassy rock, with here and there snow in sharp, even, sloping +sheets just holding to it. I could see but little of it at a time on +account of the mist. + +Hitherto for all these miles the Aar had been my companion, and the +road, though rising always, had risen evenly and not steeply. Now the +Aar was left behind in the icy glen where it rises, and the road went +in an artificial and carefully built set of zig-zags up the face of +the cliff. There is a short cut, but I could not find it in the mist. +It is the old mule-path. Here and there, however, it was possible to +cut off long corners by scrambling over the steep black rock and +smooth ice, and all the while the cold, soft mist wisped in and out +around me. After a thousand feet of this I came to the top of the +Grimsel, but not before I had passed a place where an avalanche had +destroyed the road and where planks were laid. Also before one got to +the very summit, no short cuts or climbing were possible. The road +ran deep in a cutting like a Devonshire lane. Only here the high banks +were solid snow. + +Some little way past the summit, on the first zig-zag down, I passed +the Lake of the Dead in its mournful hollow. The mist still enveloped +all the ridge-side, and moved like a press of spirits over the frozen +water, then--as suddenly as on the much lower Brienzer Grat, and (as +on the Brienzer Grat) to the southward and the sun, the clouds lifted +and wreathed up backward and were gone, and where there had just been +fulness was only an immensity of empty air and a sudden sight of clear +hills beyond and of little strange distant things thousands and +thousands of feet below. + +LECTOR. Pray are we to have any more of that fine writing? + +AUCTOR. I saw there as in a cup things that I had thought (when I +first studied the map at home) far too spacious and spread apart to go +into the view. Yet here they were all quite contained and close +together, on so vast a scale was the whole place conceived. It was the +comb of mountains of which I have written; the meeting of all the +valleys. + +There, from the height of a steep bank, as it were (but a bank many +thousands of feet high), one looked down into a whole district or +little world. On the map, I say, it had seemed so great that I had +thought one would command but this or that portion of it; as it was, +one saw it all. + +And this is a peculiar thing I have noticed in all mountains, and have +never been able to understand--- namely, that if you draw a plan or +section to scale, your mountain does not seem a very important thing. +One should not, in theory, be able to dominate from its height, nor to +feel the world small below one, nor to hold a whole countryside in +one's hand--yet one does. The mountains from their heights reveal to +us two truths. They suddenly make us feel our insignificance, and at +the same time they free the immortal Mind, and let it feel its +greatness, and they release it from the earth. But I say again, in +theory, when one considers the exact relation of their height to the +distances one views from them, they ought to claim no such effect, and +that they can produce that effect is related to another thing--the way +in which they exaggerate their own steepness. + +For instance, those noble hills, my downs in Sussex, when you are upon +them overlooking the weald, from Chanctonbury say, feel like this--or +even lower. Indeed, it is impossible to give them truly, so +insignificant are they; if the stretch of the Weald were made nearly a +yard long, Chanctonbury would not, in proportion, be more than a fifth +of an inch high! And yet, from the top of Chanctonbury, how one seems +to overlook it and possess it all! + +Well, so it was here from the Grimsel when I overlooked the springs of +the Rhone. In true proportion the valley I gazed into and over must +have been somewhat like this-- + +It felt for all the world as deep and utterly below me as this other-- + +Moreover, where there was no mist, the air was so surprisingly clear +that I could see everything clean and sharp wherever I turned my eyes. +The mountains forbade any very far horizons to the view, and all that +I could see was as neat and vivid as those coloured photographs they +sell with bright green grass and bright white snow, and blue glaciers +like precious stones. + +I scrambled down the mountain, for here, on the south side of the +pass, there was no snow or ice, and it was quite easy to leave the +road and take the old path cutting off the zig-zags. As the air got +heavier, I became hungry, and at the very end of my descent, two +hundred feet or so above the young Rhone, I saw a great hotel. I went +round to their front door and asked them whether I could eat, and at +what price. 'Four francs,' they said. + +'What!' said I, 'four francs for a meal! Come, let me eat in the +kitchen, and charge me one.' But they became rude and obstinate, being +used only to deal with rich people, so I cursed them, and went down +the road. But I was very hungry. + +The road falls quite steeply, and the Rhone, which it accompanies in +that valley, leaps in little falls. On a bridge I passed a sad +Englishman reading a book, and a little lower down, two American women +in a carriage, and after that a priest (it was lucky I did not see him +first. Anyhow, I touched iron at once, to wit, a key in my pocket), +and after that a child minding a goat. Altogether I felt myself in the +world again, and as I was on a good road, all down hill, I thought +myself capable of pushing on to the next village. But my hunger was +really excessive, my right boot almost gone, and my left boot nothing +to exhibit or boast of, when I came to a point where at last one +looked down the Rhone valley for miles. It is like a straight trench, +and at intervals there are little villages, built of most filthy +chalets, the said chalets raised on great stones. There are pine-trees +up, up on either slope, into the clouds, and beyond the clouds I could +not see. I left on my left a village called 'Between the Waters'. I +passed through another called 'Ehringen', but it has no inn. At last, +two miles farther, faint from lack of food, I got into Ulrichen, a +village a little larger than the rest, and the place where I believed +one should start to go either over the Gries or Nufenen Pass. In +Ulrichen was a warm, wooden, deep-eaved, frousty, comfortable, +ramshackle, dark, anyhow kind of a little inn called 'The Bear'. And +entering, I saw one of the women whom god loves. + +She was of middle age, very honest and simple in the face, kindly and +good. She was messing about with cooking and stuff, and she came up +to me stooping a little, her eyes wide and innocent, and a great spoon +in her hand. Her face was extremely broad and flat, and I have never +seen eyes set so far apart. Her whole gait, manner, and accent proved +her to be extremely good, and on the straight road to heaven. I +saluted her in the French tongue. She answered me in the same, but +very broken and rustic, for her natural speech was a kind of mountain +German. She spoke very slowly, and had a nice soft voice, and she did +what only good people do, I mean, looked you in the eyes as she spoke +to you. + +Beware of shifty-eyed people. It is not only nervousness, it is also a +kind of wickedness. Such people come to no good. I have three of them +now in my mind as I write. One is a Professor. + +And, by the way, would you like to know why universities suffer from +this curse of nervous disease? Why the great personages stammer or +have St Vitus' dance, or jabber at the lips, or hop in their walk, or +have their heads screwed round, or tremble in the fingers, or go +through life with great goggles like a motor car? Eh? I will tell you. +It is the punishment of their _intellectual pride,_ than which no sin +is more offensive to the angels. + +What! here are we with the jolly world of God all round us, able to +sing, to draw, to paint, to hammer and build, to sail, to ride horses, +to run, to leap; having for our splendid inheritance love in youth and +memory in old age, and we are to take one miserable little faculty, +our one-legged, knock-kneed, gimcrack, purblind, rough-skinned, +underfed, and perpetually irritated and grumpy intellect, or +analytical curiosity rather (a diseased appetite), and let it swell +till it eats up every other function? Away with such foolery. + +LECTOR. When shall we get on to ... + +AUCTOR. Wait a moment. I say, away with such foolery. Note that +pedants lose all proportion. They never can keep sane in a discussion. +They will go wild on matters they are wholly unable to judge, such as +Armenian Religion or the Politics of Paris or what not. Never do they +use one of those three phrases which keep a man steady and balance his +mind, I mean the words (1) _After all it is not my business. (2) Tut! +tut! You don't say so! and (3) _Credo in Unum Deum Patrem +Omnipotentem, Factorem omnium visibilium atque invisibilium;_ in which +last there is a power of synthesis that can jam all their analytical +dust-heap into such a fine, tight, and compact body as would make them +stare to see. I understand that they need six months' holiday a year. +Had I my way they should take twelve, and an extra day on leap years. + +LECTOR. Pray, pray return to the woman at the inn. + +AUCTOR. I will, and by this road: to say that on the day of Judgement, +when St Michael weighs souls in his scales, and the wicked are led off +by the Devil with a great rope, as you may see them over the main +porch of Notre Dame (I will heave a stone after them myself I hope), +all the souls of the pedants together will not weigh as heavy and +sound as the one soul of this good woman at the inn. + +She put food before me and wine. The wine was good, but in the food +was some fearful herb or other I had never tasted before--a pure spice +or scent, and a nasty one. One could taste nothing else, and it was +revolting; but I ate it for her sake. + +Then, very much refreshed, I rose, seized my great staff, shook myself +and said, 'Now it is about noon, and I am off for the frontier.' + +At this she made a most fearful clamour, saying that it was madness, +and imploring me not to think of it, and running out fetched from the +stable a tall, sad, pale-eyed man who saluted me profoundly and told +me that he knew more of the mountains than any one for miles. And this +by asking many afterwards I found out to be true. He said that he had +crossed the Nufenen and the Gries whenever they could be crossed since +he was a child, and that if I attempted it that day I should sleep +that night in Paradise. The clouds on the mountain, the soft snow +recently fallen, the rain that now occupied the valleys, the glacier +on the Gries, and the pathless snow in the mist on the Nufenen would +make it sheer suicide for him, an experienced guide, and for me a +worse madness. Also he spoke of my boots and wondered at my poor coat +and trousers, and threatened me with intolerable cold. + +It seems that the books I had read at home, when they said that the +Nufenen had no snow on it, spoke of a later season of the year; it was +all snow now, and soft snow, and hidden by a full mist in such a day +from the first third of the ascent. As for the Gries, there was a +glacier on the top which needed some kind of clearness in the weather. +Hearing all this I said I would remain--but it was with a heavy heart. +Already I felt a shadow of defeat over me. The loss of time was a +thorn. I was already short of cash, and my next money was Milan. My +return to England was fixed for a certain date, and stronger than +either of these motives against delay was a burning restlessness that +always takes men when they are on the way to great adventures. + +I made him promise to wake me next morning at three o'clock, and, +short of a tempest, to try and get me across the Gries. As for the +Nufenen and Crystalline passes which I had desired to attempt, and +which were (as I have said) the straight line to Rome, he said (and he +was right), that let alone the impassability of the Nufenen just then, +to climb the Crystal Mountain in that season would be as easy as +flying to the moon. Now, to cross the Nufenen alone, would simply land +me in the upper valley of the Ticino, and take me a great bend out of +my way by Bellinzona. Hence my bargain that at least he should show me +over the Gries Pass, and this he said, if man could do it, he would do +the next day; and I, sending my boots to be cobbled (and thereby +breaking another vow), crept up to bed, and all afternoon read the +school-books of the children. They were in French, from lower down the +valley, and very Genevese and heretical for so devout a household. But +the Genevese civilization is the standard for these people, and they +combat the Calvinism of it with missions, and have statues in their +rooms, not to speak of holy water stoups. + +The rain beat on my window, the clouds came lower still down the +mountain. Then (as is finely written in the Song of Roland), 'the day +passed and the night came, and I slept.' But with the coming of the +small hours, and with my waking, prepare yourselves for the most +extraordinary and terrible adventure that befell me out of all the +marvels and perils of this pilgrimage, the most momentous and the most +worthy of perpetual record, I think, of all that has ever happened +since the beginning of the world. + +At three o'clock the guide knocked at my door, and I rose and came out +to him. We drank coffee and ate bread. We put into our sacks ham and +bread, and he white wine and I brandy. Then we set out. The rain had +dropped to a drizzle, and there was no wind. The sky was obscured for +the most part, but here and there was a star. The hills hung awfully +above us in the night as we crossed the spongy valley. A little wooden +bridge took us over the young Rhone, here only a stream, and we +followed a path up into the tributary ravine which leads to the +Nufenen and the Gries. In a mile or two it was a little lighter, and +this was as well, for some weeks before a great avalanche had fallen, +and we had to cross it gingerly. Beneath the wide cap of frozen snow +ran a torrent roaring. I remembered Colorado, and how I had crossed +the Arkansaw on such a bridge as a boy. We went on in the uneasy dawn. +The woods began to show, and there was a cross where a man had slipped +from above that very April and been killed. Then, most ominous and +disturbing, the drizzle changed to a rain, and the guide shook his +head and said it would be snowing higher up. We went on, and it grew +lighter. Before it was really day (or else the weather confused and +darkened the sky), we crossed a good bridge, built long ago, and we +halted at a shed where the cattle lie in the late summer when the snow +is melted. There we rested a moment. + +But on leaving its shelter we noticed many disquieting things. The +place was a hollow, the end of the ravine--a bowl, as it were; one way +out of which is the Nufenen, and the other the Gries. + +Here it is in a sketch map. The heights are marked lighter and +lighter, from black in the valleys to white in the impassable +mountains. E is where we stood, in a great cup or basin, having just +come up the ravine B. C is the Italian valley of the Tosa, and the +neck between it and E is the Gries. D is the valley of the Ticino, +and the neck between E and it is the Nufenen. A is the Crystal +Mountain. You may take the necks or passes to be about 8000, and the +mountains 10,000 or 11,000 feet above the sea. + +We noticed, I say, many disquieting things. First, all, that bowl or +cup below the passes was a carpet of snow, save where patches of black +water showed, and all the passes and mountains, from top to bottom, +were covered with very thick snow; the deep surface of it soft and +fresh fallen. Secondly, the rain had turned into snow. It was falling +thickly all around. Nowhere have I more perceived the immediate +presence of great Death. Thirdly, it was far colder, and we felt the +beginning of a wind. Fourthly, the clouds had come quite low down. + +The guide said it could not be done, but I said we must attempt it. I +was eager, and had not yet felt the awful grip of the cold. We left +the Nufenen on our left, a hopeless steep of new snow buried in fog, +and we attacked the Gries. For half-an-hour we plunged on through snow +above our knees, and my thin cotton clothes were soaked. So far the +guide knew we were more or less on the path, and he went on and I +panted after him. Neither of us spoke, but occasionally he looked back +to make sure I had not dropped out. + +The snow began to fall more thickly, and the wind had risen somewhat. +I was afraid of another protest from the guide, but he stuck to it +well, and I after him, continually plunging through soft snow and +making yard after yard upwards. The snow fell more thickly and the +wind still rose. + +We came to a place which is, in the warm season, an alp; that is, a +slope of grass, very steep but not terrifying; having here and there +sharp little precipices of rock breaking it into steps, but by no +means (in summer) a matter to make one draw back. Now, however, when +everything was still Arctic it was a very different matter. A sheer +steep of snow whose downward plunge ran into the driving storm and was +lost, whose head was lost in the same mass of thick cloud above, a +slope somewhat hollowed and bent inwards, had to be crossed if we were +to go any farther; and I was terrified, for I knew nothing of +climbing. The guide said there was little danger, only if one slipped +one might slide down to safety, or one might (much less probably) get +over rocks and be killed. I was chattering a little with cold; but as +he did not propose a return, I followed him. The surface was +alternately slabs of frozen snow and patches of soft new snow. In the +first he cut steps, in the second we plunged, and once I went right in +and a mass of snow broke off beneath me and went careering down the +slope. He showed me how to hold my staff backwards as he did his +alpenstock, and use it as a kind of brake in case I slipped. + +We had been about twenty minutes crawling over that wall of snow and +ice; and it was more and more apparent that we were in for danger. +Before we had quite reached the far side, the wind was blowing a very +full gale and roared past our ears. The surface snow was whirring +furiously like dust before it: past our faces and against them drove +the snow-flakes, cutting the air: not falling, but making straight +darts and streaks. They seemed like the form of the whistling wind; +they blinded us. The rocks on the far side of the slope, rocks which +had been our goal when we set out to cross it, had long ago +disappeared in the increasing rush of the blizzard. Suddenly as we +were still painfully moving on, stooping against the mad wind, these +rocks loomed up over as large as houses, and we saw them through the +swarming snow-flakes as great hulls are seen through a fog at sea. The +guide crouched under the lee of the nearest; I came up close to him +and he put his hands to my ear and shouted to me that nothing further +could be done--he had so to shout because in among the rocks the +hurricane made a roaring sound, swamping the voice. + +I asked how far we were from the summit. He said he did not know where +we were exactly, but that we could not be more than 800 feet from it. +I was but that from Italy and I would not admit defeat. I offered him +all I had in money to go on, but it was folly in me, because if I had +had enough to tempt him and if he had yielded we should both have +died. Luckily it was but a little sum. He shook his head. He would not +go on, he broke out, for all the money there was in the world. He +shouted me to eat and drink, and so we both did. + +Then I understood his wisdom, for in a little while the cold began to +seize me in my thin clothes. My hands were numb, my face already gave +me intolerable pain, and my legs suffered and felt heavy. I learnt +another thing (which had I been used to mountains I should have +known), that it was not a simple thing to return. The guide was +hesitating whether to stay in this rough shelter, or to face the +chances of the descent. This terror had not crossed my mind, and I +thought as little of it as I could, needing my courage, and being near +to breaking down from the intensity of the cold. + +It seems that in a _tourmente_ (for by that excellent name do the +mountain people call such a storm) it is always a matter of doubt +whether to halt or go back. If you go back through it and lose your +way, you are done for. If you halt in some shelter, it may go on for +two or three days, and then there is an end of you. + +After a little he decided for a return, but he told me honestly what +the chances were, and my suffering from cold mercifully mitigated my +fear. But even in that moment, I felt in a confused but very conscious +way that I was defeated. I had crossed so many great hills and rivers, +and pressed so well on my undeviating arrow-line to Rome, and I had +charged this one great barrier manfully where the straight path of my +pilgrimage crossed the Alps--and I had failed! Even in that fearful +cold I felt it, and it ran through my doubt of return like another and +deeper current of pain. Italy was there, just above, right to my hand. +A lifting of a cloud, a little respite, and every downward step would +have been towards the sunlight. As it was, I was being driven back +northward, in retreat and ashamed. The Alps had conquered me. + +Let us always after this combat their immensity and their will, and +always hate the inhuman guards that hold the gates of Italy, and the +powers that lie in wait for men on those high places. But now I know +that Italy will always stand apart. She is cut off by no ordinary +wall, and Death has all his army on her frontiers. + +Well, we returned. Twice the guide rubbed my hands with brandy, and +once I had to halt and recover for a moment, failing and losing my +hold. Believe it or not, the deep footsteps of our ascent were already +quite lost and covered by the new snow since our halt, and even had +they been visible, the guide would not have retraced them. He did what +I did not at first understand, but what I soon saw to be wise. He took +a steep slant downward over the face of the snow-slope, and though +such a pitch of descent a little unnerved me, it was well in the end. +For when we had gone down perhaps 900 feet, or a thousand, in +perpendicular distance, even I, half numb and fainting, could feel +that the storm was less violent. Another two hundred, and the flakes +could be seen not driving in flashes past, but separately falling. +Then in some few minutes we could see the slope for a very long way +downwards quite clearly; then, soon after, we saw far below us the +place where the mountain-side merged easily into the plain of that cup +or basin whence we had started. + +When we saw this, the guide said to me, 'Hold your stick thus, if you +are strong enough, and let yourself slide.' I could just hold it, in +spite of the cold. Life was returning to me with intolerable pain. We +shot down the slope almost as quickly as falling, but it was evidently +safe to do so, as the end was clearly visible, and had no break or +rock in it. + +So we reached the plain below, and entered the little shed, and thence +looking up, we saw the storm above us; but no one could have told it +for what it was. Here, below, was silence, and the terror and raging +above seemed only a great trembling cloud occupying the mountain. Then +we set our faces down the ravine by which we had come up, and so came +down to where the snow changed to rain. When we got right down into +the valley of the Rhone, we found it all roofed with cloud, and the +higher trees were white with snow, making a line like a tide mark on +the slopes of the hills. + +I re-entered 'The Bear', silent and angered, and not accepting the +humiliation of that failure. Then, having eaten, I determined in equal +silence to take the road like any other fool; to cross the Furka by a +fine highroad, like any tourist, and to cross the St Gothard by +another fine highroad, as millions had done before me, and not to look +heaven in the face again till I was back after my long detour, on the +straight road again for Rome. + +But to think of it! I who had all that planned out, and had so nearly +done it! I who had cut a path across Europe like a shaft, and seen so +many strange places!--now to have to recite all the litany of the +vulgar; Bellinzona, Lugano, and this and that, which any railway +travelling fellow can tell you. Not till Como should I feel a man +again ... + +Indeed it is a bitter thing to have to give up one's sword. + +I had not the money to wait; my defeat had lowered me in purse as well +as in heart. I started off to enter by the ordinary gates--not Italy +even, but a half-Italy, the canton of the Ticino. It was very hard. + +This book is not a tragedy, and I will not write at any length of such +pain. That same day, in the latter half of it, I went sullenly over +the Furka; exactly as easy a thing as going up St James' Street and +down Piccadilly. I found the same storm on its summit, but on a +highroad it was a different affair. I took no short cuts. I drank at +all the inns--at the base, half-way up, near the top, and at the top. +I told them, as the snow beat past, how I had attacked and all but +conquered the Gries that wild morning, and they took me for a liar; so +I became silent even within my own mind. I looked sullenly at the +white ground all the way. And when on the far side I had got low +enough to be rid of the snow and wind and to be in the dripping rain +again, I welcomed the rain, and let it soothe like a sodden friend my +sodden uncongenial mind. + +I will not write of Hospenthal. It has an old tower, and the road to +it is straight and hideous. Much I cared for the old tower! The people +of the inn (which I chose at random) cannot have loved me much. + +I will not write of the St Gothard. Get it out of a guide-book. I rose +when I felt inclined; I was delighted to find it still raining. A +dense mist above the rain gave me still greater pleasure. I had +started quite at my leisure late in the day, and I did the thing +stolidly, and my heart was like a dully-heated mass of coal or iron +because I was acknowledging defeat. You who have never taken a +straight line and held it, nor seen strange men and remote places, you +do not know what it is to have to go round by the common way. + +Only in the afternoon, and on those little zig-zags which are sharper +than any other in the Alps (perhaps the road is older), something +changed. + +A warm air stirred the dense mist which had mercifully cut me off from +anything but the mere road and from the contemplation of hackneyed +sights. + +A hint or memory of gracious things ran in the slight breeze, the +wreaths of fog would lift a little for a few yards, and in their +clearings I thought to approach a softer and more desirable world. I +was soothed as though with caresses and when I began to see somewhat +farther and felt a vigour and fulness in the outline of the Trees, I +said to myself suddenly-- + +'I know what it is! It is the South, and a great part of my blood. +They may call it Switzerland still, but I know now that I am in Italy, +and this is the gate of Italy lying in groves.' + +Then and on till evening I reconciled myself with misfortune, and when +I heard again at Airolo the speech of civilized men, and saw the +strong Latin eyes and straight forms of the Race after all those days +of fog and frost and German speech and the north, my eyes filled with +tears and I was as glad as a man come home again, and I could have +kissed the ground. + +The wine of Airolo and its songs, how greatly they refreshed me! To +see men with answering eyes and to find a salute returned; the noise +of careless mouths talking all together; the group at cards, and the +laughter that is proper to mankind; the straight carriage of the +women, and in all the people something erect and noble as though +indeed they possessed the earth. I made a meal there, talking to all +my companions left and right in a new speech of my own, which was made +up, as it were, of the essence of all the Latin tongues, saying-- + +_'Ha! Si jo a traversa li montagna no erat facile! Nenni! II san +Gottardo? Nil est! pooh! poco! Ma hesterna jo ha voulu traversar in +Val Bavona, e credi non ritornar, namfredo, fredo erat in alto! La +tourmente ma prise...'_ + +And so forth, explaining all fully with gestures, exaggerating, +emphasizing, and acting the whole matter, so that they understood me +without much error. But I found it more difficult to understand them, +because they had a regular formed language with terminations and +special words. + +It went to my heart to offer them no wine, but a thought was in me of +which you shall soon hear more. My money was running low, and the +chief anxiety of a civilized man was spreading over my mind like the +shadow of a cloud over a field of corn in summer. They gave me a +number of 'good-nights', and at parting I could not forbear from +boasting that I was a pilgrim on my way to Rome. This they repeated +one to another, and one man told me that the next good halting-place +was a town called Faido, three hours down the road. He held up three +fingers to explain, and that was the last intercourse I had with the +Airolans, for at once I took the road. + +I glanced up the dark ravine which I should have descended had I +crossed the Nufenen. I thought of the Val Bavona, only just over the +great wall that held the west; and in one place where a rift (you have +just seen its picture) led up to the summits of the hills I was half +tempted to go back to Airolo and sleep and next morning to attempt a +crossing. But I had accepted my fate on the Gries and the falling road +also held me, and so I continued my way. + +Everything was pleasing in this new valley under the sunlight that +still came strongly from behind the enormous mountains; everything +also was new, and I was evidently now in a country of a special kind. +The slopes were populous, I had come to the great mother of fruits and +men, and I was soon to see her cities and her old walls, and the +rivers that glide by them. Church towers also repeated the same shapes +up and up the wooded hills until the villages stopped at the line of +the higher slopes and at the patches of snow. The houses were square +and coloured; they were graced with arbours, and there seemed to be +all around nothing but what was reasonable and secure, and especially +no rich or poor. + +I noticed all these things on the one side and the other till, not two +hours from Airolo, I came to a step in the valley. For the valley of +the Ticino is made up of distinct levels, each of which might have +held a lake once for the way it is enclosed: and each level ends in +high rocks with a gorge between them. Down this gorge the river +tumbles in falls and rapids and the road picks its way down steeply, +all banked and cut, and sometimes has to cross from side to side by a +bridge, while the railway above one overcomes the sharp descent by +running round into the heart of the hills through circular tunnels and +coming out again far below the cavern where it plunged in. Then when +all three--the river, the road, and the railway--- have got over the +great step, a new level of the valley opens. This is the way the road +comes into the south, and as I passed down to the lower valley, though +it was darkening into evening, something melted out of the mountain +air, there was content and warmth in the growing things, and I found +it was a place for vineyards. So, before it was yet dark, I came into +Faido, and there I slept, having at last, after so many adventures, +crossed the threshold and occupied Italy. + +Next day before sunrise I went out, and all the valley was adorned and +tremulous with the films of morning. + +Now all of you who have hitherto followed the story of this great +journey, put out of your minds the Alps and the passes and the +snows--postpone even for a moment the influence of the happy dawn and +of that South into which I had entered, and consider only this truth, +that I found myself just out of Faido on this blessed date of God with +eight francs and forty centimes for my viaticum and temporal provision +wherewith to accomplish the good work of my pilgrimage. + +Now when you consider that coffee and bread was twopence and a penny +for the maid, you may say without lying that I had left behind me the +escarpment of the Alps and stood upon the downward slopes of the first +Italian stream and at the summit of the entry road with _eight francs +ten centimes_ in my pocket--my body hearty and my spirit light, for +the arriving sun shot glory into the sky. The air was keen, and a +fresh day came radiant over the high eastern walls of the valley. + +And what of that? Why, one might make many things of it. For instance, +eight francs and ten centimes is a very good day's wages; it is a lot +to spend in cab fares but little for a _coupe._ It is a heavy price +for Burgundy but a song for Tokay. It is eighty miles third-class and +more; it is thirty or less first-class; it is a flash in a train _de +luxe,_ and a mere fleabite as a bribe to a journalist. It would be +enormous to give it to an apostle begging at a church door, but +nothing to spend on luncheon. + +Properly spent I can imagine it saving five or six souls, but I cannot +believe that so paltry a sum would damn half an one. + +Then, again, it would be a nice thing to sing about. Thus, if one were +a modern fool one might write a dirge with 'Huit francs et dix +centimes' all chanted on one low sad note, and coming in between +brackets for a 'motif, and with a lot about autumn and Death--which +last, Death that is, people nowadays seem to regard as something odd, +whereas it is well known to be the commonest thing in the world. Or +one might make the words the Backbone of a triolet, only one would +have to split them up to fit it into the metre; or one might make it +the decisive line in a sonnet; or one might make a pretty little lyric +of it, to the tune of 'Madame la Marquise'-- + +_'Huit francs et dix centimes, Tra la la, la la la.'_ + +Or one might put it rhetorically, fiercely, stoically, finely, +republicanly into the Heroics of the Great School. Thus-- + +HERNANI _(with indignation)... dans ces efforts sublimes_ _'Qu'avez +vous a offrir?' + +RUY BLAS _(simply) Huit francs et dix centimes!_ + +Or finally (for this kind of thing cannot go on for ever), one might +curl one's hair and dye it black, and cock a dirty slouch hat over one +ear and take a guitar and sit on a flat stone by the roadside and +cross one's legs, and, after a few pings and pongs on the strings, +strike up a Ballad with the refrain-- + +_Car j'ai toujours huit francs et dix centimes!_ a jocular, +sub-sardonic, a triumphant refrain! + +But all this is by the way; the point is, why was the eight francs and +ten centimes of such importance just there and then? + +For this reason, that I could get no more money before Milan; and I +think a little reflection will show you what a meaning lies in that +phrase. Milan was nearer ninety miles than eighty miles off. By the +strict road it was over ninety. And so I was forced to consider and to +be anxious, for how would this money hold out? + +There was nothing for it but forced marches, and little prospect of +luxuries. But could it be done? + +I thought it could, and I reasoned this way. + +'It is true I need a good deal of food, and that if a man is to cover +great distances he must keep fit. It is also true that many men have +done more on less. On the other hand, they were men who were not +pressed for time--I am; and I do not know the habits of the country. +Ninety miles is three good days; two very heavy days. Indeed, whether +it can be done at all in two is doubtful. But it can be done in two +days, two nights, and half the third day. So if I plan it thus I shall +achieve it; namely, to march say forty-five miles or more to-day, and +to sleep rough at the end of it. My food may cost me altogether three +francs. I march the next day twenty-five to thirty, my food costing me +another three francs. Then with the remaining two francs and ten +centimes I will take a bed at the end of the day, and coffee and bread +next morning, and will march the remaining twenty miles or less (as +they may be) into Milan with a copper or two in my pocket. Then in +Milan, having obtained my money, I will eat.' + +So I planned with very careful and exact precision, but many accidents +and unexpected things, diverting my plans, lay in wait for me among +the hills. + +And to cut a long story short, as the old sailor said to the young +fool-- + +LECTOR. What did the old sailor say to the young fool? + +AUCTOR. Why, the old sailor was teaching the young fool his compass, +and he said--- + +'Here we go from north, making round by west, and then by south round +by east again to north. There are thirty-two points of the compass, +namely, first these four, N., W., S., and E., and these are halved, +making four more, viz., NW., S W., SE., and NE. I trust I make myself +clear,' said the old sailor. + +'That makes eight divisions, as we call them. So look smart and +follow. Each of these eight is divided into two symbolically and +symmetrically divided parts, as is most evident in the nomenclature of +the same,' said the old sailor. 'Thus between N. and NE. is NNE., +between NE. and E. is ENE., between E. and SE. is...' + +'I see,' said the young fool. + +The old sailor, frowning at him, continued-- + +'Smart you there. Heels together, and note you well. Each of these +sixteen divisions is separated quite reasonably and precisely into +two. Thus between N. and NNE. we get N. by E.,' said the old sailor; +'and between NNE. and NE. we get NE. by E., and between NE. and ENE. +we get NE. by E.,' said the old sailor; 'and between ENE. and E. we +get E. by N., and then between E. and ESE. we get...' + +But here he noticed something dangerous in the young fool's eyes, and +having read all his life Admiral Griles' 'Notes on Discipline', and +knowing that discipline is a subtle bond depending 'not on force but +on an attitude of the mind,' he continued-- + +'And so TO CUT A LONG STORY SHORT we come round to the north again.' +Then he added, 'It is customary also to divide each of these points +into quarters. Thus NNE. 3/4 E. signifies...' + +But at this point the young fool, whose hands were clasped behind him +and concealed a marlin-spike, up and killed the old sailor, and so +rounded off this fascinating tale. + +Well then, to cut a long story short, I had to make forced marches. +With eight francs and ten centimes, and nearer ninety than eighty-five +miles before the next relief, it was necessary to plan and then to +urge on heroically. Said I to myself, 'The thing can be done quite +easily. What is ninety miles? Two long days! Who cannot live on four +francs a day? Why, lots of men do it on two francs a day.' + +But my guardian angel said to me, 'You are an ass! Ninety miles is a +great deal more than twice forty-five. Besides which' (said he) 'a +great effort needs largeness and ease. Men who live on two francs a +day or less are not men who attempt to march forty-five miles a day. +Indeed, my friend, you are pushing it very close.' + +'Well,' thought I, 'at least in such a glorious air, with such Hills +all about one, and such a race, one can come to no great harm.' + +But I knew within me that Latins are hard where money is concerned, +and I feared for my strength. I was determined to push forward and to +live on little. I filled my lungs and put on the spirit of an attempt +and swung down the valley. + +Alas! I may not linger on that charge, for if I did I should not give +you any measure of its determination and rapidity. Many little places +passed me off the road on the flanks of that valley, and mostly to the +left. While the morning was yet young, I came to the packed little +town of Bodio, and passed the eight franc limit by taking coffee, +brandy, and bread. There also were a gentleman and a lady in a +carriage who wondered where I was going, and I told them (in French) +'to Rome'. It was nine in the morning when I came to Biasca. The sun +was glorious, and not yet warm: it was too early for a meal. They gave +me a little cold meat and bread and wine, and seven francs stood out +dry above the falling tide of my money. + +Here at Biasca the valley took on a different aspect. It became wider +and more of a countryside; the vast hills, receding, took on an +appearance of less familiar majesty, and because the trend of the +Ticino turned southerly some miles ahead the whole place seemed +enclosed from the world. One would have said that a high mountain +before me closed it in and rendered it unique and unknown, had not a +wide cleft in the east argued another pass over the hills, and +reminded me that there were various routes over the crest of the Alps. + +Indeed, this hackneyed approach to Italy which I had dreaded and +despised and accepted only after a defeat was very marvellous, and +this valley of the Ticino ought to stand apart and be a commonwealth +of its own like Andorra or the Gresivaudan: the noble garden of the +Isere within the first gates of the Dauphine. + +I was fatigued, and my senses lost acuteness. Still I noticed with +delight the new character of the miles I pursued. A low hill just +before me, jutting out apparently from the high western mountains, +forbade me to see beyond it. The plain was alluvial, while copses and +wood and many cultivated fields now found room where, higher up, had +been nothing but the bed of a torrent with bare banks and strips of +grass immediately above them; it was a place worthy of a special name +and of being one lordship and a countryside. Still I went on towards +that near boundary of the mountain spur and towards the point where +the river rounded it, the great barrier hill before me still seeming +to shut in the valley. + +It was noon, or thereabouts, the heat was increasing (I did not feel +it greatly, for I had eaten and drunk next to nothing), when, coming +round the point, there opened out before me the great fan of the lower +valley and the widening and fruitful plain through which the Ticino +rolls in a full river to reach Lake Major, which is its sea. + +Weary as I was, the vision of this sudden expansion roused me and made +me forget everything except the sight before me. The valley turned +well southward as it broadened. The Alps spread out on either side +like great arms welcoming the southern day; the wholesome and familiar +haze that should accompany summer dimmed the more distant mountains of +the lakes and turned them amethystine, and something of repose and of +distance was added to the landscape; something I had not seen for many +days. There was room in that air and space for dreams and for many +living men, for towns perhaps on the slopes, for the boats of happy +men upon the waters, and everywhere for crowded and contented living. +History might be in all this, and I remembered it was the entry and +introduction of many armies. Singing therefore a song of Charlemagne, +I swung on in a good effort to where, right under the sun, what seemed +a wall and two towers on a sharp little hillock set in the bosom of +the valley showed me Bellinzona. Within the central street of that +city, and on its shaded side, I sank down upon a bench before the +curtained door of a drinking booth and boasted that I had covered in +that morning my twenty-five miles. + +The woman of the place came out to greet me, and asked me a question. +I did not catch it (for it was in a foreign language), but guessing +her to mean that I should take something, I asked for vermouth, and +seeing before me a strange door built of red stone, I drew it as I +sipped my glass and the woman talked to me all the while in a language +I could not understand. And as I drew I became so interested that I +forgot my poverty and offered her husband a glass, and then gave +another to a lounging man that had watched me at work, and so from +less than seven francs my money fell to six exactly, and my pencil +fell from my hand, and I became afraid. + +'I have done a foolish thing,' said I to myself, 'and have endangered +the success of my endeavour. Nevertheless, that cannot now be +remedied, and I must eat; and as eating is best where one has friends +I will ask a meal of this woman.' + +Now had they understood French I could have bargained and chosen; as +it was I had to take what they were taking, and so I sat with them as +they all came out and ate together at the little table. They had soup +and flesh, wine and bread, and as we ate we talked, not understanding +each other, and laughing heartily at our mutual ignorance. And they +charged me a franc, which brought my six francs down to five. But I, +knowing my subtle duty to the world, put down twopence more, as I +would have done anywhere else, for a _pour boire;_ and so with four +francs and eighty centimes left, and with much less than a third of my +task accomplished I rose, now drowsy with the food and wine, and +saluting them, took the road once more. + +But as I left Bellinzona there was a task before me which was to bring +my poverty to the test; for you must know that my map was a bad one, +and on a very small scale, and the road from Bellinzona to Lugano has +a crook in it, and it was essential to find a short cut. So I thought +to myself, 'I will try to see a good map as cheaply as possible,' and +I slunk off to the right into a kind of main square, and there I found +a proud stationer's shop, such as would deal with rich men only, or +tourists of the coarser and less humble kind. I entered with some +assurance, and said in French-- + +'Sir, I wish to know the hills between here and Lugano, but I am too +poor to buy a map. If you will let me look at one for a few moments, I +will pay you what you think fit.' + +The wicked stationer became like a devil for pride, and glaring at me, +said-- + +'Look! Look for yourself. I do not take pence. I sell maps; I do not +hire them!' + +Then I thought, 'Shall I take a favour from such a man?' But I +yielded, and did. I went up to the wall and studied a large map for +some moments. Then as I left, I said to him-- + +'Sir, I shall always hold in remembrance the day on which you did me +this signal kindness; nor shall I forget your courtesy and goodwill.' + +And what do you think he did at that? + +Why, he burst into twenty smiles, and bowed and seemed beatified, and +said: 'Whatever I can do for my customers and for visitors to this +town, I shall always be delighted to do. Pray, sir, will you not look +at other maps for a moment?' + +Now, why did he say this and grin happily like a gargoyle appeased? +Did something in my accent suggest wealth? or was he naturally kindly? +I do not know; but of this I am sure, one should never hate human +beings merely on a first, nor on a tenth, impression. Who knows? This +map-seller of Bellinzona may have been a good man; anyhow, I left him +as rich as I had found him, and remembering that the true key to a +forced march is to break the twenty-four hours into three pieces, and +now feeling the extreme heat, I went out along the burning straight +road until I found a border of grass and a hedge, and there, in spite +of the dust and the continually passing carts, I lay at full length in +the shade and fell into the sleep of men against whom there is no +reckoning. Just as I forgot the world I heard a clock strike two. + +I slept for hours beneath that hedge, and when I woke the air was no +longer a trembling furnace, but everything about me was wrapped round +as in a cloak of southern afternoon, and was still. The sun had fallen +midway, and shone in steady glory through a haze that overhung Lake +Major, and the wide luxuriant estuary of the vale. There lay before me +a long straight road for miles at the base of high hills; then, far +off, this road seemed to end at the foot of a mountain called, I +believe, Ash Mount or Cinder Hill. But my imperfect map told me that +here it went sharp round to the left, choosing a pass, and then at an +angle went down its way to Lugano. + +Now Lugano was not fifteen miles as the crow flies from where I stood, +and I determined to cut off that angle by climbing the high hills just +above me. They were wooded only on their slopes; their crest and much +of their sides were a down-land of parched grass, with rocks appearing +here and there. At the first divergent lane I made off eastward from +the road and began to climb. + +In under the chestnut trees the lane became a number of vague beaten +paths; I followed straight upwards. Here and there were little houses +standing hidden in leaves, and soon I crossed the railway, and at last +above the trees I saw the sight of all the Bellinzona valley to the +north; and turning my eyes I saw it broaden out between its walls to +where the lake lay very bright, in spite of the slight mist, and this +mist gave the lake distances, and the mountains round about it were +transfigured and seemed part of the mere light. + +The Italian lakes have that in them and their air which removes them +from common living. Their beauty is not the beauty which each of us +sees for himself in the world; it is rather the beauty of a special +creation; the expression of some mind. To eyes innocent, and first +freshly noting our great temporal inheritance--1 mean to the eyes of a +boy and girl just entered upon the estate of this glorious earth, and +thinking themselves immortal, this shrine of Europe might remain for +ever in the memory; an enchanted experience, in which the single sense +of sight had almost touched the boundary of music. They would remember +these lakes as the central emotion of their youth. To mean men also +who, in spite of years and of a full foreknowledge of death, yet +attempt nothing but the satisfaction of sense, and pride themselves +upon the taste and fineness with which they achieve this satisfaction, +the Italian lakes would seem a place for habitation, and there such a +man might build his house contentedly. But to ordinary Christians I am +sure there is something unnatural in this beauty of theirs, and they +find in it either a paradise only to be won by a much longer road to a +bait and veil of sorcery, behind which lies great peril. Now, for all +we know, beauty beyond the world may not really bear this double +aspect; but to us on earth--if we are ordinary men--beauty of this +kind has something evil. Have you not read in books how men when they +see even divine visions are terrified? So as I looked at Lake Major in +its halo I also was afraid, and I was glad to cross the ridge and +crest of the hill and to shut out that picture framed all round with +glory. + +But on the other side of the hill I found, to my great disgust, not as +I had hoped, a fine slope down leading to Lugano, but a second +interior valley and another range just opposite me. I had not the +patience to climb this so I followed down the marshy land at the foot +of it, passed round the end of the hill and came upon the railway, +which had tunnelled under the range I had crossed. I followed the +railway for a little while and at last crossed it, penetrated through +a thick brushwood, forded a nasty little stream, and found myself +again on the main road, wishing heartily I had never left it. + +It was still at least seven miles to Lugano, and though all the way +was downhill, yet fatigue threatened me. These short cuts over marshy +land and through difficult thickets are not short cuts at all, and I +was just wondering whether, although it was already evening, I dared +not rest a while, when there appeared at a turn in the road a little +pink house with a yard all shaded over by a vast tree; there was also +a trellis making a roof over a plain bench and table, and on the +trellis grew vines. + +'Into such houses,' I thought, 'the gods walk when they come down and +talk with men, and such houses are the scenes of adventures. I will go +in and rest.' + +So I walked straight into the courtyard and found there a shrivelled +brown-faced man with kindly eyes, who was singing a song to himself. +He could talk a little French, a little English, and his own Italian +language. He had been to America and to Paris; he was full of +memories; and when I had listened to these and asked for food and +drink, and said I was extremely poor and would have to bargain, he +made a kind of litany of 'I will not cheat you; I am an honest man; I +also am poor,' and so forth. Nevertheless I argued about every +item--the bread, the sausage, and the beer. Seeing that I was in +necessity, he charged me about three times their value, but I beat him +down to double, and lower than that he would not go. Then we sat down +together at the table and ate and drank and talked of far countries; +and he would interject remarks on his honesty compared with the +wickedness of his neighbours, and I parried with illustrations of my +poverty and need, pulling out the four francs odd that remained to me, +and jingling them sorrowfully in my hand. 'With these,' I said, 'I +must reach Milan.' + +Then I left him, and as I went down the road a slight breeze came on, +and brought with it the coolness of evening. + +At last the falling plateau reached an edge, many little lights +glittered below me, and I sat on a stone and looked down at the town +of Lugano. It was nearly dark. The mountains all around had lost their +mouldings, and were marked in flat silhouettes against the sky. The +new lake which had just appeared below me was bright as water is at +dusk, and far away in the north and east the high Alps still stood up +and received the large glow of evening. Everything else was full of +the coming night, and a few stars shone. Up from She town came the +distant noise of music; otherwise there was no sound. I could have +rested there a long time, letting my tired body lapse into the +advancing darkness, and catching in my spirit the inspiration of the +silence--had it not been for hunger. I knew by experience that when it +is very late one cannot be served in the eating-houses of poor men, +and I had not the money or any other. So I rose and shambled down the +steep road into the town, and there I found a square with arcades, and +in the south-eastern corner of this square just such a little tavern +as I required. Entering, therefore, and taking off my hat very low, I +said in French to a man who was sitting there with friends, and who +was the master, 'Sir, what is the least price at which you can give me +a meal?' + +He said, 'What do you want?' + +I answered, 'Soup, meat, vegetables, bread, and a little wine.' + +He counted on his fingers, while all his friends stared respectfully +at him and me. He then gave orders, and a very young and beautiful +girl set before me as excellent a meal as I had eaten for days on +days, and he charged me but a franc and a half. He gave me also coffee +and a little cheese, and I, feeling hearty, gave threepence over for +the service, and they all very genially wished me a good-night; but +their wishes were of no value to me, for the night was terrible. + +I had gone over forty miles; how much over I did not know. I should +have slept at Lugano, but my lightening purse forbade me. I thought, +'I will push on and on; after all, I have already slept, and so broken +the back of the day. I will push on till I am at the end of my tether, +then I will find a wood and sleep.' Within four miles my strength +abandoned me. I was not even so far down the lake as to have lost the +sound of the band at Lugano floating up the still water, when I was +under an imperative necessity for repose. It was perhaps ten o'clock, +and the sky was open and glorious with stars. I climbed up a bank on +my right, and searching for a place to lie found one under a tree near +a great telegraph pole. Here was a little parched grass, and one could +lie there and see the lake and wait for sleep. It was a benediction to +stretch out all supported by the dry earth, with my little side-bag +for pillow, and to look at the clear night above the hills, and to +listen to the very distant music, and to wonder whether or not, in +this strange southern country, there might not be snakes gliding about +in the undergrowth. Caught in such a skein of influence I was soothed +and fell asleep. + +For a little while I slept dreamlessly. + +Just so much of my living self remained as can know, without +understanding, the air around. It is the life of trees. That +under-part, the barely conscious base of nature which trees and +sleeping men are sunk in, is not only dominated by an immeasurable +calm, but is also beyond all expression contented. And in its very +stuff there is a complete and changeless joy. This is surely what the +great mind meant when it said to the Athenian judges that death must +not be dreaded since no experience in life was so pleasurable as a +deep sleep; for being wise and seeing the intercommunion of things, he +could not mean extinction, which is nonsense, but a lapse into that +under-part of which I speak. For there are gods also below the earth. + +But a dream came into my sleep and disturbed me, increasing life, and +therefore bringing pain. I dreamt that I was arguing, at first easily, +then violently, with another man. More and more he pressed me, and at +last in my dream there were clearly spoken words, and he said to me, +'You must be wrong, because you are so cold; if you were right you +would not be so cold.' And this argument seemed quite reasonable to me +in my foolish dream, and I muttered to him, 'You are right, I must be +in the wrong. It is very cold ...' Then I half opened my eyes and saw +the telegraph pole, the trees, and the lake. Far up the lake, where +the Italian Frontier cuts it, the torpedo-boats, looking for +smugglers, were casting their search-lights. One of the roving beams +fell full on me and I became broad awake. I stood up. It was indeed +cold, with a kind of clinging and grasping chill that was not to be +expressed in degrees of heat, but in dampness perhaps, or perhaps in +some subtler influence of the air. + +I sat on the bank and gazed at the lake in some despair. Certainly I +could not sleep again without a covering cloth, and it was now past +midnight, nor did I know of any house, whether if I took the road I +should find one in a mile, or in two, or in five. And, note you, I was +utterly exhausted. That enormous march from Faido, though it had been +wisely broken by the siesta at Bellinzona, needed more than a few cold +hours under trees, and I thought of the three poor francs in my +pocket, and of the thirty-eight miles remaining to Milan. + +The stars were beyond the middle of their slow turning, and I watched +them, splendid and in order, for sympathy, as I also regularly, but +slowly and painfully, dragged myself along my appointed road. But in a +very short time a great, tall, square, white house stood right on the +roadway, and to my intense joy I saw a light in one of its higher +windows. Standing therefore beneath, I cried at the top of my voice, +'Hola!' five or six times. A woman put her head out of the window into +the fresh night, and said, 'You cannot sleep here; we have no rooms,' +then she remained looking out of her window and ready to analyse the +difficulties of the moment; a good-natured woman and fat. + +In a moment another window at the same level, but farther from me, +opened, and a man leaned out, just as those alternate figures come in +and out of the toys that tell the weather. 'It is impossible,' said +the man; 'we have no rooms.' + +Then they talked a great deal together, while I shouted, _'Quid vis? +Non e possibile dormire in la foresta! e troppo fredo! Vis ne me +assassinare? Veni de Lugano--e piu--non e possibile ritornare!'_ and +so forth. + +They answered in strophe and antistrophe, sometimes together in full +chorus, and again in semichorus, and with variations, that it was +impossible. Then a light showed in the chinks of their great door; the +lock grated, and it opened. A third person, a tall youth, stood in the +hall. I went forward into the breach and occupied the hall. He blinked +at me above a candle, and murmured, as a man apologizing 'It is not +possible.' + +Whatever I have in common with these southerners made me understand +that I had won, so I smiled at him and nodded; he also smiled, and at +once beckoned to me. He led me upstairs, and showed me a charming bed +in a clean room, where there was a portrait of the Pope, looking +cunning; the charge for that delightful and human place was sixpence, +and as I said good-night to the youth, the man and woman from above +said good-night also. And this was my first introduction to the most +permanent feature in the Italian character. The good people! + +When I woke and rose I was the first to be up and out. It was high +morning. The sun was not yet quite over the eastern mountains, but I +had slept, though so shortly yet at great ease, and the world seemed +new and full of a merry mind. The sky was coloured like that high +metal work which you may see in the studios of Paris; there was gold +in it fading into bronze, and above, the bronze softened to silver. A +little morning breeze, courageous and steady, blew down the lake and +provoked the water to glad ripples, and there was nothing that did not +move and take pleasure in the day. + +The Lake of Lugano is of a complicated shape, and has many arms. It is +at this point very narrow indeed, and shallow too; a mole, pierced at +either end with low arches, has here been thrown across it, and by +this mole the railway and the road pass over to the eastern shore. I +turned in this long causeway and noticed the northern view. On the +farther shore was an old village and some pleasure-houses of rich men +on the shore; the boats also were beginning to go about the water. +These boats were strange, unlike other boats; they were covered with +hoods, and looked like floating waggons. This was to shield the rowers +from the sun. Far off a man was sailing with a little brown +sprit-sail. It was morning, and all the world was alive. + +Coffee in the village left me two francs and two pennies. I still +thought the thing could be done, so invigorating and deceiving are the +early hours, and coming farther down the road to an old and beautiful +courtyard on the left, I drew it, and hearing a bell at hand I saw a +tumble-down church with trees before it, and went in to Mass; and +though it was a little low village Mass, yet the priest had three +acolytes to serve it, and (true and gracious mark of a Catholic +country!) these boys were restless and distracted at their office. + +You may think it trivial, but it was certainly a portent. One of the +acolytes had half his head clean shaved! A most extraordinary sight! I +could not take my eyes from it, and I heartily wished I had an +Omen-book with me to tell me what it might mean. + +When there were oracles on earth, before Pan died, this sight would +have been of the utmost use. For I should have consulted the oracle +woman for a Lira--at Biasca for instance, or in the lonely woods of +the Cinder Mountain; and, after a lot of incense and hesitation, and +wrestling with the god, the oracle would have accepted Apollo and, +staring like one entranced, she would have chanted verses which, +though ambiguous, would at least have been a guide. Thus: + + _Matutinus adest ubi Vesper, et accipiens te + Saepe recusatum voces intelligit hospes + Rusticus ignotas notas, ac flumina tellus + Occupat--In sancto tum, tum, stans + Aede caveto Tonsuram Hirsuti + Capitis, via namque pedestrem + Ferrea praeveniens cursum, peregrine, laborem_ + Pro pietate tua inceptum frustratur, amore + Antiqui Ritus alto sub Numine Romae._ + +LECTOR. What Hoggish great Participles! + +AUCTOR. Well, well, you see it was but a rustic oracle at 9 3/4 d. the +revelation, and even that is supposing silver at par. Let us translate +it for the vulgar: + +When early morning seems but eve And they that still refuse receive: +When speech unknown men understand; And floods are crossed upon dry +land. Within the Sacred Walls beware The Shaven Head that boasts of +Hair, For when the road attains the rail The Pilgrim's great attempt +shall fail. + +Of course such an oracle might very easily have made me fear too much. +The 'shaven head' I should have taken for a priest, especially if it +was to be met with 'in a temple'--it might have prevented me entering +a church, which would have been deplorable. Then I might have taken it +to mean that I should never have reached Rome, which would have been a +monstrous weight upon my mind. Still, as things unfolded themselves, +the oracle would have become plainer and plainer, and I felt the lack +of it greatly. For, I repeat, I had certainly received an omen. + +The road now neared the end of the lake, and the town called Capo di +Lago, or 'Lake-head', lay off to my right. I saw also that in a very +little while I should abruptly find the plains. A low hill some five +miles ahead of me was the last roll of the mountains, and just above +me stood the last high crest, a precipitous peak of bare rock, up +which there ran a cog-railway to some hotel or other. I passed through +an old town under the now rising heat; I passed a cemetery in the +Italian manner, with marble figures like common living men. The road +turned to the left, and I was fairly on the shoulder of the last +glacis. I stood on the Alps at their southern bank, and before me was +Lombardy. + +Also in this ending of the Swiss canton one was more evidently in +Italy than ever. A village perched upon a rock, deep woods and a +ravine below it, its houses and its church, all betrayed the full +Italian spirit. + +The frontier town was Chiasso. I hesitated with reverence before +touching the sacred soil which I had taken so long to reach, and I +longed to be able to drink its health; but though I had gone, I +suppose, ten miles, and though the heat was increasing, I would not +stop; for I remembered the two francs, and my former certitude of +reaching Milan was shaking and crumbling. The great heat of midday +would soon be on me, I had yet nearly thirty miles to go, and my bad +night began to oppress me. + +I crossed the frontier, which is here an imaginary line. Two slovenly +customs-house men asked me if I had anything dutiable on me. I said +No, and it was evident enough, for in my little sack or pocket was +nothing but a piece of bread. If they had applied the American test, +and searched me for money, then indeed they could have turned me back, +and I should have been forced to go into the fields a quarter of a +mile or so and come into their country by a path instead of a +highroad. + +This necessity was spared me. I climbed slowly up the long slope that +hides Como, then I came down upon that lovely city and saw its frame +of hills and its lake below me. + +These things are not like things seen by the eyes. I say it again, +they are like what one feels when music is played. + +I entered Como between ten and eleven faint for food, and then a new +interest came to fill my mind with memories of this great adventure. +The lake was in flood, and all the town was water. + +Como dry must be interesting enough; Como flooded is a marvel. What +else is Venice? And here is a Venice at the foot of high mountains, +and _all_ in the water, no streets or squares; a fine even depth of +three feet and a half or so for navigators, much what you have in the +Spitway in London River at low spring tides. + +There were a few boats about, but the traffic and pleasure of Como was +passing along planks laid on trestles over the water here and there +like bridges; and for those who were in haste, and could afford it +(such as take cabs in London), there were wheelbarrows, coster carts, +and what not, pulled about by men for hire; and it was a sight to +remember all one's life to see the rich men of Como squatting on these +carts and barrows, and being pulled about over the water by the poor +men of Como, being, indeed, an epitome of all modern sociology and +economics and religion and organized charity and strenuousness and +liberalism and sophistry generally. + +For my part I was determined to explore this curious town in the +water, and I especially desired to see it on the lake side, because +there one would get the best impression of its being really an aquatic +town; so I went northward, as I was directed, and came quite +unexpectedly upon the astonishing cathedral. It seemed built of +polished marble, and it was in every way so exquisite in proportion, +so delicate in sculpture, and so triumphant in attitude, that I +thought to myself-- + +'No wonder men praise Italy if this first Italian town has such a +building as this.' + +But, as you will learn later, many of the things praised are ugly, and +are praised only by certain followers of charlatans. + +So I went on till I got to the lake, and there I found a little port +about as big as a dining-room (for the Italian lakes play at being +little seas. They have little ports, little lighthouses, little +fleets for war, and little custom-houses, and little storms and little +lines of steamers. Indeed, if one wanted to give a rich child a +perfect model or toy, one could not give him anything better than an +Italian lake), and when I had long gazed at the town, standing, as it +seemed, right in the lake, I felt giddy, and said to myself, 'This is +the lack of food,' for I had eaten nothing but my coffee and bread +eleven miles before, at dawn. + +So I pulled out my two francs, and going into a little shop, I bought +bread, sausage, and a very little wine for fourpence, and with one +franc eighty left I stood in the street eating and wondering what my +next step should be. + +It seemed on the map perhaps twenty-five, perhaps twenty-six miles to +Milan. It was now nearly noon, and as hot as could be. I might, if I +held out, cover the distance in eight or nine hours, but I did not see +myself walking in the middle heat on the plain of Lombardy, and even +if I had been able I should only have got into Milan at dark or later, +when the post office (with my money in it) would be shut; and where +could I sleep, for my one franc eighty would be gone? A man covering +these distances must have one good meal a day or he falls ill. I could +beg, but there was the risk of being arrested, and that means an +indefinite waste of time, perhaps several days; and time, that had +defeated me at the Gries, threatened me here again. I had nothing to +sell or to pawn, and I had no friends. The Consul I would not attempt; +I knew too much of such things as Consuls when poor and dirty men try +them. Besides which, there was no Consul I pondered. + +I went into the cool of the cathedral to sit in its fine darkness and +think better. I sat before a shrine where candles were burning, put up +for their private intentions by the faithful. Of many, two had nearly +burnt out. I watched them in their slow race for extinction when a +thought took me. + +'I will,' said I to myself, 'use these candles for an ordeal or +heavenly judgement. The left hand one shall be for attempting the road +at the risk of illness or very dangerous failure; the right hand one +shall stand for my going by rail till I come to that point on the +railway where one franc eighty will take me, and thence walking into +Milan:--and heaven defend the right.' + +They were a long time going out, and they fell evenly. At last the +right hand one shot up the long flame that precedes the death of +candles; the contest took on interest, and even excitement, when, just +as I thought the left hand certain of winning, it went out without +guess or warning, like a second-rate person leaving this world for +another. The right hand candle waved its flame still higher, as though +in triumph, outlived its colleague just the moment to enjoy glory, and +then in its turn went fluttering down the dark way from which they say +there is no return. + +None may protest against the voice of the Gods. I went straight to the +nearest railway station (for there are two), and putting down one +franc eighty, asked in French for a ticket to whatever station that +sum would reach down the line. The ticket came out marked Milan, and I +admitted the miracle and confessed the finger of Providence. There was +no change, and as I got into the train I had become that rarest and +ultimate kind of traveller, the man without any money whatsoever-- +without passport, without letters, without food or wine; it would be +interesting to see what would follow if the train broke down. + +I had marched 378 miles and some three furlongs, or thereabouts. + +Thus did I break--but by a direct command--the last and dearest of my +vows, and as the train rumbled off, I took luxury in the rolling +wheels. + +I thought of that other medieval and papistical pilgrim hobbling along +rather than 'take advantage of any wheeled thing', and I laughed at +him. Now if Moroso-Malodoroso or any other Non-Aryan, Antichristian, +over-inductive, statistical, brittle-minded man and scientist, sees +anything remarkable in one self laughing at another self, let me tell +him and all such for their wide-eyed edification and astonishment that +I knew a man once that had fifty-six selves (there would have been +fifty-seven, but for the poet in him that died young)--he could evolve +them at will, and they were very useful to lend to the parish priest +when he wished to make up a respectable Procession on Holy-days. And I +knew another man that could make himself so tall as to look over the +heads of the scientists as a pine-tree looks over grasses, and again +so small as to discern very clearly the thick coating or dust of +wicked pride that covers them up in a fine impenetrable coat. So much +for the moderns. + +The train rolled on. I noticed Lombardy out of the windows. It is +flat. I listened to the talk of the crowded peasants in the train. I +did not understand it. I twice leaned out to see if Milan were not +standing up before me out of the plain, but I saw nothing. Then I fell +asleep, and when I woke suddenly it was because we were in the +terminus of that noble great town, which I then set out to traverse in +search of my necessary money and sustenance. It was yet but early in +the afternoon. + +What a magnificent city is Milan! The great houses are all of stone, +and stand regular and in order, along wide straight streets. There are +swift cars, drawn by electricity, for such as can afford them. Men are +brisk and alert even in the summer heats, and there are shops of a +very good kind, though a trifle showy. There are many newspapers to +help the Milanese to be better men and to cultivate charity and +humility; there are banks full of paper money; there are soldiers, +good pavements, and all that man requires to fulfil him, soul and +body; cafes, arcades, mutoscopes, and every sign of the perfect state. +And the whole centres in a splendid open square, in the midst of which +is the cathedral, which is justly the most renowned in the world. + +My pilgrimage is to Rome, my business is with lonely places, hills, +and the recollection of the spirit. It would be waste to describe at +length this mighty capital. The mists and the woods, the snows and the +interminable way, had left me ill-suited for the place, and I was +ashamed. I sat outside a cafe, opposite the cathedral, watching its +pinnacles of light; but I was ashamed. Perhaps I did the master a hurt +by sitting there in his fine great cafe, unkempt, in such clothes, +like a tramp; but he was courteous in spite of his riches, and I +ordered a very expensive drink for him also, in order to make amends. +I showed him my sketches, and told him of my adventures in French, and +he was kind enough to sit opposite me, and to take that drink with me. +He talked French quite easily, as it seems do all such men in the +principal towns of north Italy. Still, the broad day shamed me, and +only when darkness came did I feel at ease. + +I wandered in the streets till I saw a small eating shop, and there I +took a good meal. But when one is living the life of the poor, one +sees how hard are the great cities. Everything was dearer, and worse, +than in the simple countrysides. The innkeeper and his wife were +kindly, but their eyes showed that they had often to suspect men. They +gave me a bed, but it was a franc and more, and I had to pay before +going upstairs to it. The walls were mildewed, the place ramshackle +and evil, the rickety bed not clean, the door broken and warped, and +that night I was oppressed with the vision of poverty. Dirt and +clamour and inhuman conditions surrounded me. Yet the people meant +well. + +With the first light I got up quietly, glad to find the street again +and the air. I stood in the crypt of the cathedral to hear the +Ambrosian Mass, and it was (as I had expected) like any other, save +for a kind of second _lavabo_ before the Elevation. To read the +distorted stupidity of the north one might have imagined that in the +Ambrosian ritual the priest put a _non_ before the _credo,_ and +_nec's_ at each clause of it, and renounced his baptismal vows at the +_kyrie;_ but the Milanese are Catholics like any others, and the +northern historians are either liars or ignorant men. And I know three +that are both together. + +Then I set out down the long street that leads south out of Milan, and +was soon in the dull and sordid suburb of the Piacenzan way. The sky +was grey, the air chilly, and in a little while--alas!--it rained. + +Lombardy is an alluvial plain. + +That is the pretty way of putting it. The truth is more vivid if you +say that Lombardy is as flat as a marsh, and that it is made up of +mud. Of course this mud dries when the sun shines on it, but mud it is +and mud it will remain; and that day, as the rain began falling, mud +it rapidly revealed itself to be; and the more did it seem to be mud +when one saw how the moistening soil showed cracks from the last day's +heat. + +Lombardy has no forests, but any amount of groups of trees; moreover +(what is very remarkable), it is all cultivated in fields more or less +square. These fields have ditches round them, full of mud and water +running slowly, and some of them are themselves under water in order +to cultivate rice. All these fields have a few trees bordering them, +apart from the standing clumps; but these trees are not very high. +There are no open views in Lombardy, and Lombardy is all the same. +Irregular large farmsteads stand at random all up and down the +country; no square mile of Lombardy is empty. There are many, many +little villages; many straggling small towns about seven to eight +miles apart, and a great number of large towns from thirty to fifty +miles apart. Indeed, this very road to Piacenza, which the rain now +covered with a veil of despair, was among the longest stretches +between any two large towns, although it was less than fifty miles. + +On the map, before coming to this desolate place, there seemed a +straighter and a better way to Rome than this great road. There is a +river called the Lambro, which comes east of Milan and cuts the +Piacenzan road at a place called Melegnano. It seemed to lead straight +down to a point on the Po, a little above Piacenza. This stream one +could follow (so it seemed), and when it joined the Po get a boat or +ferry, and see on the other side the famous Trebbia, where Hannibal +conquered and Joubert fell, and so make straight on for the Apennine. + +Since it is always said in books that Lombardy is a furnace in summer, +and that whole great armies have died of the heat there, this river +bank would make a fine refuge. Clear and delicious water, more limpid +than glass, would reflect and echo the restless poplars, and would +make tolerable or even pleasing the excessive summer. Not so. It was a +northern mind judging by northern things that came to this conclusion. +There is not in all Lombardy a clear stream, but every river and brook +is rolling mud. In the rain, not heat, but a damp and penetrating +chill was the danger. There is no walking on the banks of the rivers; +they are cliffs of crumbling soil, jumbled anyhow. + +Man may, as Pinkerton (Sir Jonas Pinkerton) writes, be master of his +fate, but he has a precious poor servant. It is easier to command a +lapdog or a mule for a whole day than one's own fate for half-an-hour. + +Nevertheless, though it was apparent that I should have to follow the +main road for a while, I determined to make at last to the right of +it, and to pass through a place called 'Old Lodi', for I reasoned +thus: 'Lodi is the famous town. How much more interesting must Old +Lodi be which is the mothertown of Lodi?' Also, Old Lodi brought me +back again on the straight line to Rome, and I foolishly thought it +might be possible to hear there of some straight path down the Lambro +(for that river still possessed me somewhat). + +Therefore, after hours and hours of trudging miserably along the wide +highway in the wretched and searching rain, after splashing through +tortuous Melegnano, and not even stopping to wonder if it was the +place of the battle, after noting in despair the impossible Lambro, I +came, caring for nothing, to the place where a secondary road branches +off to the right over a level crossing and makes for Lodi Vecchio. + +It was not nearly midday, but I had walked perhaps fifteen miles, and +had only rested once in a miserable Trattoria. In less than three +miles I came to that unkempt and lengthy village, founded upon dirt +and living in misery, and through the quiet, cold, persistent rain I +splashed up the main street. I passed wretched, shivering dogs and +mournful fowls that took a poor refuge against walls; passed a sad +horse that hung its head in the wet and stood waiting for a master, +till at last I reached the open square where the church stood, then I +knew that I had seen all Old Lodi had to offer me. So, going into an +eating-house, or inn, opposite the church, I found a girl and her +mother serving, and I saluted them, but there was no fire, and my +heart sank to the level of that room, which was, I am sure, no more +than fifty-four degrees. + +Why should the less gracious part of a pilgrimage be specially +remembered? In life were remember joy best--that is what makes us sad +by contrast; pain somewhat, especially if it is acute; but dulness +never. And a book--which has it in its own power to choose and to +emphasize--has no business to record dulness. What did I at Lodi +Vecchio? I ate; I dried my clothes before a tepid stove in a kitchen. +I tried to make myself understood by the girl and her mother. I sat at +a window and drew the ugly church on principle. Oh, the vile sketch! + +Worthy of that Lombard plain, which they had told me was so full of +wonderful things. I gave up all hope of by-roads, and I determined to +push back obliquely to the highway again--obliquely in order to save +time! Nepios! + +These 'by-roads' of the map turned out in real life to be all manner +of abominable tracks. Some few were metalled, some were cart-ruts +merely, some were open lanes of rank grass; and along most there went +a horrible ditch, and in many fields the standing water proclaimed +desolation. IN so far as I can be said to have had a way at all, I +lost it. I could not ask my way because my only ultimate goal was +Piacenza, and that was far off. I did not know the name of any place +between. Two or three groups of houses I passed, and sometimes church +towers glimmered through the rain. I passed a larger and wider road +than the rest, but obviously not my road; I pressed on and passed +another; and by this time, having ploughed up Lombardy for some four +hours, I was utterly lost. I no longer felt the north, and, for all I +knew, I might be going backwards. The only certain thing was that I +was somewhere in the belt between the highroad and the Lambro, and +that was little enough to know at the close of such a day. Grown +desperate, I clamoured within my mind for a miracle; and it was not +long before I saw a little bent man sitting on a crazy cart and going +ahead of me at a pace much slower than a walk--the pace of a horse +crawling. I caught him up, and, doubting much whether he would +understand a word, I said to him repeatedly-- + +_'La granda via? La via a Piacenza?'_ + +He shook his head as though to indicate that this filthy lane was not +the road. Just as I had despaired of learning anything, he pointed +with his arm away to the right, perpendicularly to the road we were +on, and nodded. He moved his hand up and down. I had been going north! + +On getting this sign I did not wait for a cross road, but jumped the +little ditch and pushed through long grass, across further ditches, +along the side of patches of growing corn, heedless of the huge weight +on my boots and of the oozing ground, till I saw against the rainy sky +a line of telegraph poles. For the first time since they were made the +sight of them gave a man joy. There was a long stagnant pond full of +reeds between me and the railroad; but, as I outflanked it, I came +upon a road that crossed the railway at a level and led me into the +great Piacenzan way. Almost immediately appeared a village. It was a +hole called Secugnano, and there I entered a house where a bush +hanging above the door promised entertainment, and an old hobbling +woman gave me food and drink and a bed. The night had fallen, and upon +the roof above me I could hear the steady rain. + +The next morning--Heaven preserve the world from evil!--it was still +raining. + +LECTOR. It does not seem to me that this part of your book is very +entertaining. + +AUCTOR. I know that; but what am I to do? + +LECTOR. Why, what was the next point in the pilgrimage that was even +tolerably noteworthy? + +AUCTOR. I suppose the Bridge of Boats. + +LECTOR. And how far on was that? + +AUCTOR. About fourteen miles, more or less ... I passed through a town +with a name as long as my arm, and I suppose the Bridge of Boats must +have been nine miles on after that. + +LECTOR. And it rained all the time, and there was mud? + +AUCTOR. Precisely. + +LECTOR. Well, then, let us skip it and tell stories. + +AUCTOR. With all my heart. And since you are such a good judge of +literary poignancy, do you begin. + +LECTOR. I will, and I draw my inspiration from your style. + +Once upon a time there was a man who was born in Croydon, and whose +name was Charles Amieson Blake. He went to Rugby at twelve and left it +at seventeen. He fell in love twice and then went to Cambridge till he +was twenty-three. Having left Cambridge he fell in love more mildly, +and was put by his father into a government office, where he began at +_180_ pounds a year. At thirty-five he was earning 500 pounds a year, +and perquisites made 750 pounds a year. He met a pleasant lady and +fell in love quite a little compared with the other times. She had 250 +pounds a year. That made _1000_ pounds a year. They married and had +three children--Richard, Amy, and Cornelia. He rose to a high +government position, was knighted, retired at sixty-three, and died at +sixty-seven. He is buried at Kensal Green... + +AUCTOR. Thank you, Lector, that is a very good story. It is simple and +full of plain human touches. You know how to deal with the facts of +everyday life ... It requires a master-hand. Tell me, Lector, had this +man any adventures? + +LECTOR. None that I know of. + +AUCTOR. Had he opinions? + +LECTOR. Yes. I forgot to tell you he was a Unionist. He spoke two +foreign languages badly. He often went abroad to Assisi, Florence, and +Boulogne... He left 7,623 pounds 6s. 8d., and a house and garden at +Sutton. His wife lives there still. + +AUCTOR. Oh! + +LECTOR. It is the human story ... the daily task! + +AUCTOR. Very true, my dear Lector ... the common lot... Now let me +tell my story. It is about the Hole that could not be Filled Up. + +LECTOR. Oh no! Auctor, no! That is the oldest story in the-- + +AUCTOR. Patience, dear Lector, patience! I will tell it well. Besides +which I promise you it shall never be told again. I will copyright it. + +Well, once there was a Learned Man who had a bargain with the Devil +that he should warn the Devil's emissaries of all the good deeds done +around him so that they could be upset, and he in turn was to have all +those pleasant things of this life which the Devil's allies usually +get, to wit a Comfortable Home, Self-Respect, good health, 'enough +money for one's rank', and generally what is called 'a happy useful +life'--_till_ midnight of All-Hallowe'en in the last year of the +nineteenth century. + +So this Learned Man did all he was required, and daily would inform +the messenger imps of the good being done or prepared in the +neighbourhood, and they would upset it; so that the place he lived in +from a nice country town became a great Centre of Industry, full of +wealth and desirable family mansions and street property, and was +called in hell 'Depot B' (Depot A you may guess at). But at last +toward the 15th of October 1900, the Learned Man began to shake in his +shoes and to dread the judgement; for, you see, he had not the +comfortable ignorance of his kind, and was compelled to believe in the +Devil willy-nilly, and, as I say, he shook in his shoes. + +So he bethought him of a plan to cheat the Devil, and the day before +All-Hallowe'en he cut a very small round hole in the floor of his +study, just near the fireplace, right through down to the cellar. Then +he got a number of things that do great harm (newspapers, legal +documents, unpaid bills, and so forth) and made ready for action. + +Next morning when the little imps came for orders as usual, after +prayers, he took them down into the cellar, and pointing out the hole +in the ceiling, he said to them: + +'My friends, this little hole is a mystery. It communicates, I +believe, with the chapel; but I cannot find the exit. All I know is, +that some pious person or angel, or what not, desirous to do good, +slips into it every day whatever he thinks may be a cause of evil in +the neighbourhood, hoping thus to destroy it' (in proof of which +statement he showed them a scattered heap of newspapers on the floor +of the cellar beneath the hole). 'And the best thing you can do,' he +added, 'is to stay here and take them away as far as they come down +and put them back into circulation again. Tut! tut!' he added, picking +up a moneylender's threatening letter to a widow, 'it is astonishing +how these people interfere with the most sacred rights! Here is a +letter actually stolen from the post! Pray see that it is delivered.' + +So he left the little imps at work, and fed them from above with all +manner of evil-doing things, which they as promptly drew into the +cellar, and at intervals flew away with, to put them into circulation +again. + +That evening, at about half-past eleven, the Devil came to fetch the +Learned Man, and found him seated at his fine great desk, writing. The +Learned Man got up very affably to receive the Devil, and offered him +a chair by the fire, just near the little round hole. + +'Pray don't move,' said the Devil; 'I came early on purpose not to +disturb you.' + +'You are very good,' replied the Learned Man. 'The fact is, I have to +finish my report on Lady Grope's Settlement among our Poor in the Bull +Ring--it is making some progress. But their condition is +heart-breaking, my dear sir; heart-breaking!' + +'I can well believe it,' said the Devil sadly and solemnly, leaning +back in his chair, and pressing his hands together like a roof. 'The +poor in our great towns, Sir Charles' (for the Learned Man had been +made a Baronet), 'the condition, I say, of the--Don't I feel a +draught?' he added abruptly. For the Devil can't bear draughts. + +'Why,' said the Learned Man, as though ashamed, 'just near your chair +there _is_ a little hole that I have done my best to fill up, but +somehow it seemed impossible to fill it... I don't know...' + +The Devil hates excuses, and is above all practical, so he just +whipped the soul of a lawyer out of his side-pocket, tied a knot in it +to stiffen it, and shoved it into the hole. + +'There!' said the Devil contentedly; 'if you had taken a piece of rag, +or what not, you might yourself... Hulloa!...' He looked down and saw +the hole still gaping, and he felt a furious draught coming up again. +He wondered a little, and then muttered: 'It's a pity I have on my +best things. I never dare crease them, and I have nothing in my +pockets to speak of, otherwise I might have brought something bigger.' +He felt in his left-hand trouser pocket, and fished out a pedant, +crumpled him carefully into a ball, and stuffed him hard into the +hole, so that he suffered agonies. Then the Devil watched carefully. +The soul of the pedant was at first tugged as if from below, then +drawn slowly down, and finally shot off out of sight. + +'This is a most extraordinary thing!' said the Devil. + +'It is the draught. It is very strong between the joists,' ventured +the Learned Man. + +'Fiddle-sticks ends!' shouted the Devil. 'It is a trick! But I've +never been caught yet, and I never will be.' + +He clapped his hands, and a whole host of his followers poured in +through the windows with mortgages, Acts of Parliament, legal +decisions, declarations of war, charters to universities, patents for +medicines, naturalization orders, shares in gold mines, +specifications, prospectuses, water companies' reports, publishers' +agreements, letters patent, freedoms of cities, and, in a word, all +that the Devil controls in the way of hole-stopping rubbish; and the +Devil, kneeling on the floor, stuffed them into the hole like a +madman. But as fast as he stuffed, the little imps below (who had +summoned a number of their kind to their aid also) pulled it through +and carted it away. And the Devil, like one possessed, lashed the +floor with his tail, and his eyes glared like coals of fire, and the +sweat ran down his face, and he breathed hard, and pushed every +imaginable thing he had into the hole so swiftly that at last his +documents and parchments looked like streaks and flashes. But the +loyal little imps, not to be beaten, drew them through into the cellar +as fast as machinery, and whirled them to their assistants; and all +the poor lost souls who had been pressed into the service were +groaning that their one holiday in the year was being filched from +them, when, just as the process was going on so fast that it roared +like a printing-machine in full blast, the clock in the hall struck +twelve. + +The Devil suddenly stopped and stood up. + +'Out of my house,' said the Learned Man; 'out of my house! I've had +enough of you, and I've no time for fiddle-faddle! It's past twelve, +and I've won!' + +The Devil, though still panting, smiled a diabolical smile, and +pulling out his repeater (which he had taken as a perquisite from the +body of a member of Parliament), said, 'I suppose you keep Greenwich +time?' + +'Certainly!' said Sir Charles. + +'Well,' said the Devil, 'so much the worse for you to live in Suffolk. +You're four minutes fast, so I'll trouble you to come along with me; +and I warn you that any words you now say may be used against...' + +At this point the Learned Man's patron saint, who thought things had +gone far enough, materialized himself and coughed gently. They both +looked round, and there was St Charles sitting in the easy chair. + +'So far,' murmured the Saint to the Devil suavely, 'so far from being +four minutes too early, you are exactly a year too late.' On saying +this, the Saint smiled a genial, priestly smile, folded his hands, +twiddled his thumbs slowly round and round, and gazed in a fatherly +way at the Devil. + +'What do you mean?' shouted the Devil. + +'What I say,' said St Charles calmly; '1900 is not the last year of +the nineteenth century; it is the first year of the twentieth.' + +'Oh!' sneered the Devil, 'are you an anti-vaccinationist as well? Now, +look here' (and he began counting on his fingers); 'supposing in the +year 1 B.C. ...' + +'I never argue,' said St Charles. + +'Well, all I know is,' answered the Devil with some heat, 'that in +this matter as in most others, thank the Lord, I have on my side all +the historians and all the scientists, all the universities, all +the...' + +'And I,' interrupted St Charles, waving his hand like a gentleman (he +is a Borromeo), 'I have the Pope!' + +At this the Devil gave a great howl, and disappeared in a clap of +thunder, and was never seen again till his recent appearance at +Brighton. + +So the Learned Man was saved; but hardly; for he had to spend five +hundred years in Purgatory catechizing such heretics and pagans as got +there, and instructing them in the true faith. And with the more +muscular he passed a knotty time. + +You do not see the river Po till you are close to it. Then, a little +crook in the road being passed, you come between high trees, and +straight out before you, level with you, runs the road into and over a +very wide mass of tumbling water. It does not look like a bridge, it +looks like a quay. It does not rise; it has all the appearance of +being a strip of road shaved off and floated on the water. + +All this is because it passes over boats, as do some bridges over the +Rhine. (At Cologne, I believe, and certainly at Kiel--for I once sat +at the end of that and saw a lot of sad German soldiers drilling, a +memory which later made me understand (1) why they can be out-marched +by Latins; (2) why they impress travellers and civilians; (3) why the +governing class in Germany take care to avoid common service; (4) why +there is no promotion from the ranks; and (5) why their artillery is +too rigid and not quick enough. It also showed me something intimate +and fundamental about the Germans which Tacitus never understood and +which all our historians miss--they are _of necessity_ histrionic. +Note I do not say it is a vice of theirs. It is a necessity of theirs, +an appetite. They must see themselves on a stage. Whether they do +things well or ill, whether it is their excellent army with its +ridiculous parade, or their eighteenth-century _sans-soucis_ with +avenues and surprises, or their national legends with gods in wigs and +strong men in tights, they _must_ be play-actors to be happy and +therefore to be efficient; and if I were Lord of Germany, and desired +to lead my nation and to be loved by them, I should put great golden +feathers on my helmet, I should use rhetorical expressions, spout +monologues in public, organize wide cavalry charges at reviews, and +move through life generally to the crashing of an orchestra. For by +doing this even a vulgar, short, and diseased man, who dabbled in +stocks and shares and was led by financiers, could become a hero, and +do his nation good.) + +LECTOR. What is all this? + +AUCTOR. It is a parenthesis. + +LECTOR. It is good to know the names of the strange things one meets +with on one's travels. + +AUCTOR. So I return to where I branched off, and tell you that the +river Po is here crossed by a bridge of boats. + +It is a very large stream. Half-way across, it is even a trifle +uncomfortable to be so near the rush of the water on the trembling +pontoons. And on that day its speed and turbulence were emphasized by +the falling rain. For the marks of the rain on the water showed the +rapidity of the current, and the silence of its fall framed and +enhanced the swirl of the great river. + +Once across, it is a step up into Piacenza--a step through mud and +rain. On my right was that plain where Barbarossa received, and was +glorified by, the rising life of the twelfth century; there the +renaissance of our Europe saw the future glorious for the first time +since the twilight of Rome, and being full of morning they imagined a +new earth and gave it a Lord. It was at Roncaglia, I think in spring, +and I wish I had been there. For in spring even the Lombard plain they +say is beautiful and generous, but in summer I know by experience that +it is cold, brutish, and wet. + +And so in Piacenza it rained and there was mud, till I came to a hotel +called the Moor's Head, in a very narrow street, and entering it I +discovered a curious thing: the Italians live in palaces: I might have +known it. + +They are the impoverished heirs of a great time; its garments cling to +them, but their rooms are too large for the modern penury. I found +these men eating in a great corridor, in a hall, as they might do in a +palace. I found high, painted ceilings and many things of marble, a +vast kitchen, and all the apparatus of the great houses--at the +service of a handful of contented, unknown men. So in England, when we +have worked out our full fate, happier but poorer men will sit in the +faded country-houses (a community, or an inn, or impoverished +squires), and rough food will be eaten under mouldering great +pictures, and there will be offices or granaries in the galleries of +our castles; and where Lord Saxonthorpe (whose real name is +Hauptstein) now plans our policy, common Englishmen will return to the +simpler life, and there will be dogs, and beer, and catches upon +winter evenings. For Italy also once gathered by artifice the wealth +that was not of her making. + +He was a good man, the innkeeper of this palace. He warmed me at his +fire in his enormous kitchen, and I drank Malaga to the health of the +cooks. I ate of their food, I bought a bottle of a new kind of sweet +wine called 'Vino Dolce', and--I took the road. + +LECTOR. And did you see nothing of Piacenza? + +AUCTOR. Nothing, Lector; it was raining, and there was mud. I stood in +front of the cathedral on my way out, and watched it rain. It rained +all along the broad and splendid Emilian Way. I had promised myself +great visions of the Roman soldiery passing up that eternal road; it +still was stamped with the imperial mark, but the rain washed out its +interest, and left me cold. The Apennines also, rising abruptly from +the plain, were to have given me revelations at sunset; they gave me +none. Their foothills appeared continually on my right, they +themselves were veiled. And all these miles of road fade into the +confused memory of that intolerable plain. The night at Firenzuola, +the morning (the second morning of this visitation) still cold, still +heartless, and sodden with the abominable weather, shall form no part +of this book. + +Things grand and simple of their nature are possessed, as you know, of +a very subtle flavour. The larger music, the more majestic lengths of +verse called epics, the exact in sculpture, the classic drama, the +most absolute kinds of wine, require a perfect harmony of circumstance +for their appreciation. Whatever is strong, poignant, and immediate in +its effect is not so difficult to suit; farce, horror, rage, or what +not, these a man can find in the arts, even when his mood may be heavy +or disturbed; just as (to take their parallel in wines) strong Beaune +will always rouse a man. But that which is cousin to the immortal +spirit, and which has, so to speak, no colour but mere light, _that_ +needs for its recognition so serene an air of abstraction and of +content as makes its pleasure seem rare in this troubled life, and +causes us to recall it like a descent of the gods. + +For who, having noise around him, can strike the table with pleasure +at reading the Misanthrope, or in mere thirst or in fatigue praise +Chinon wine? Who does not need for either of these perfect things +Recollection, a variety of according conditions, and a certain easy +Plenitude of the Mind? + +So it is with the majesty of Plains, and with the haunting power of +their imperial roads. + +All you that have had your souls touched at the innermost, and have +attempted to release yourselves in verse and have written trash--(and +who know it)--be comforted. You shall have satisfaction at last, and +you shall attain fame in some other fashion--perhaps in private +theatricals or perhaps in journalism. You will be granted a prevision +of complete success, and your hearts shall be filled--but you must not +expect to find this mood on the Emilian Way when it is raining. + +All you that feel youth slipping past you and that are desolate at the +approach of age, be merry; it is not what it looks like from in front +and from outside. There is a glory in all completion, and all good +endings are but shining transitions. There will come a sharp moment of +revelation when you shall bless the effect of time. But this divine +moment--- it is not on the Emilian Way in the rain that you should +seek it. + +All you that have loved passionately and have torn your hearts asunder +in disillusions, do not imagine that things broken cannot be mended by +the good angels. There is a kind of splice called 'the long splice' +which makes a cut rope seem what it was before; it is even stronger +than before, and can pass through a block. There will descend upon you +a blessed hour when you will be convinced as by a miracle, and you +will suddenly understand the _redintegratio amoris (amoris +redintegratio,_ a Latin phrase). But this hour you will not receive in +the rain on the Emilian Way. + +Here then, next day, just outside a town called Borgo, past the middle +of morning, the rain ceased. + +Its effect was still upon the slippery and shining road, the sky was +still fast and leaden, when, in a distaste for their towns, I skirted +the place by a lane that runs westward of the houses, and sitting upon +a low wall, I looked up at the Apennines, which were now plain above +me, and thought over my approaching passage through those hills. + +But here I must make clear by a map the mass of mountains which I was +about to attempt, and in which I forded so many rivers, met so many +strange men and beasts, saw such unaccountable sights, was imprisoned, +starved, frozen, haunted, delighted, burnt up, and finally refreshed +in Tuscany--in a word, where I had the most extraordinary and +unheard-of adventures that ever diversified the life of man. + +The straight line to Rome runs from Milan not quite through Piacenza, +but within a mile or two of that city. Then it runs across the first +folds of the Apennines, and gradually diverges from the Emilian Way. +It was not possible to follow this part of the line exactly, for there +was no kind of track. But by following the Emilian Way for several +miles (as I had done), and by leaving it at the right moment, it was +possible to strike the straight line again near a village called +Medesano. + +Now on the far side of the Apennines, beyond their main crest, there +happens, most providentially, to be a river called the Serchio, whose +valley is fairly straight and points down directly to Rome. To follow +this valley would be practically to follow the line to Rome, and it +struck the Tuscan plain not far from Lucca. + +But to get from the Emilian Way over the eastern slope of the +Apennines' main ridge and crest, to where the Serchio rises on the +western side, is a very difficult matter. The few roads across the +Apennines cut my track at right angles, and were therefore useless. In +order to strike the watershed at the sources of the Serchio it was +necessary to go obliquely across a torrent and four rivers (the Taro, +the Parma, the Enza, and the Secchia), and to climb the four spurs +that divided them; crossing each nearer to the principal chain as I +advanced until, after the Secchia, the next climb would be that of the +central crest itself, on the far side of which I should find the +Serchio valley. + +Perhaps in places roads might correspond to this track. Certainly the +bulk of it would be mule-paths or rough gullies--how much I could not +tell. The only way I could work it with my wretched map was to note +the names of towns' or hamlets more or less on the line, and to pick +my way from one to another. I wrote them down as follows: Fornovo, +Calestano, Tizzano, Colagna--the last at the foot of the final pass. +The distance to that pass as the crow flies was only a little more +than thirty miles. So exceedingly difficult was the task that it took +me over two days. Till I reached Fornovo beyond the Taro, I was not +really in the hills. + +By country roads, picking my way, I made that afternoon for Medesano. +The lanes were tortuous; they crossed continual streams that ran from +the hills above, full and foaming after the rain, and frothing with +the waste of the mountains. I had not gone two miles when the sky +broke; not four when a new warmth began to steal over the air and a +sense of summer to appear in the earth about me. With the greatest +rapidity the unusual weather that had accompanied me from Milan was +changing into the normal brilliancy of the south; but it was too late +for the sun to tell, though he shone from time to time through clouds +that were now moving eastwards more perceptibly and shredding as they +moved. + +Quite tired and desiring food, keen also for rest after those +dispiriting days, I stopped, before reaching Medesano, at an inn where +three ways met; and there I purposed to eat and spend the night, for +the next day, it was easy to see, would be tropical, and I should rise +before dawn if I was to save the heat. I entered. + +The room within was of red wood. It had two tables, a little counter +with a vast array of bottles, a woman behind the counter, and a small, +nervous man in a strange hat serving. And all the little place was +filled and crammed with a crowd of perhaps twenty men, gesticulating, +shouting, laughing, quarrelling, and one very big man was explaining +to another the virtues of his knife; and all were already amply +satisfied with wine. For in this part men do not own, but are paid +wages, so that they waste the little they have. + +I saluted the company, and walking up to the counter was about to call +for wine. They had all become silent, when one man asked me a question +in Italian. I did not understand it, and attempted to say so, when +another asked the same question; then six or seven--and there was a +hubbub. And out of the hubbub I heard a similar sentence rising all +the time. To this day I do not know what it meant, but I thought (and +think) it meant 'He is a Venetian,' or 'He is the Venetian.' Something +in my broken language had made them think this, and evidently the +Venetians (or a Venetian) were (or was) gravely unpopular here. Why, I +cannot tell. Perhaps the Venetians were blacklegs. But evidently a +Venetian, or the whole Venetian nation, had recently done them a +wrong. + +At any rate one very dark-haired man put his face close up to mine, +unlipped his teeth, and began a great noise of cursing and +threatening, and this so angered me that it overmastered my fear, +which had till then been considerable. I remembered also a rule which +a wise man once told me for guidance, and it is this: 'God disposes of +victory, but, as the world is made, when men smile, smile; when men +laugh, laugh; when men hit, hit; when men shout, shout; and when men +curse, curse you also, my son, and in doubt let them always take the +first move.' + +I say my fear had been considerable, especially of the man with the +knife, but I got too angry to remember it, and advancing my face also +to this insulter's I shouted, _'Dio Ladro! Dios di mi alma! +Sanguinamento! Nombre di Dios! Che? Che vole? Non sono da Venezia io! +Sono de Francia! Je m'en fiche da vestra Venezia! Non se vede che non +parlar vestra lingua? Che sono forestiere?'_ and so forth. At this +they evidently divided into two parties, and all began raging amongst +themselves, and some at me, while the others argued louder and louder +that there was an error. + +The little innkeeper caught my arm over the counter, and I turned +round sharply, thinking he was doing me a wrong, but I saw him nodding +and winking at me, and he was on my side. This was probably because he +was responsible if anything happened, and he alone could not fly from +the police. + +He made them a speech which, for all I know, may have been to the +effect that he had known and loved me from childhood, or may have been +that he knew me for one Jacques of Turin, or may have been any other +lie. Whatever lie it was, it appeased them. Their anger went down to a +murmur, just like soda-water settling down into a glass. + +I stood wine; we drank. I showed them my book, and as my pencil needed +sharpening the large man lent me his knife for courtesy. When I got it +in my hand I saw plainly that it was no knife for stabbing with; it +was a pruning-knife, and would have bit the hand that cherished it (as +they say of serpents). On the other hand, it would have been a good +knife for ripping, and passable at a slash. You must not expect too +much of one article. + +I took food, but I saw that in this parish it was safer to sleep out +of doors than in; so in the falling evening, but not yet sunset, I +wandered on, not at a pace but looking for shelter, and I found at +last just what I wanted: a little shed, with dried ferns (as it +seemed) strewed in a corner, a few old sacks, and a broken piece of +machinery--though this last was of no use to me. + +I thought: 'It will be safe here, for I shall rise before day, and the +owner, if there is one, will not disturb me.' + +The air was fairly warm. The place quite dry. The open side looked +westward and a little south. + +The sun had now set behind the Apennines, and there was a deep +effulgence in the sky. I drank a little wine, lit a pipe, and watched +the west in silence. + +Whatever was left of the great pall from which all that rain had +fallen, now was banked up on the further side of heaven in toppling +great clouds that caught the full glow of evening. + +The great clouds stood up in heaven, separate, like persons; and no +wind blew; but everything was full of evening. I worshipped them so +far as it is permitted to worship inanimate things. + +They domed into the pure light of the higher air, inviolable. They +seemed halted in the presence of a commanding majesty who ranked them +all in order. + +This vision filled me with a large calm which a travelled man may find +on coming to his home, or a learner in the communion of wise men. +Repose, certitude, and, as it were, a premonition of glory occupied my +spirit. Before it was yet quite dark I had made a bed out of the dry +bracken, covered myself with the sacks and cloths, and very soon I +fell asleep, still thinking of the shapes of clouds and of the power +of God. + +Next morning it was as I had thought. Going out before it was fully +light, a dense mist all around and a clear sky showed what the day was +to be. As I reached Medesano the sun rose, and in half-an-hour the air +was instinct with heat; within an hour it was blinding. An early Mass +in the church below the village prepared my day, but as I took coffee +afterwards in a little inn, and asked about crossing the Taro to +Fornovo--my first point--to my astonishment they shook their heads. +The Taro was impassable. + +Why could it not be crossed? My very broken language made it difficult +for me to understand. They talked _oframi,_ which I thought meant +oars; but _rami,_ had I known it, meant the separate branches or +streams whereby these torrential rivers of Italy flow through their +arid beds. + +I drew a boat and asked if one could not cross in that (for I was a +northerner, and my idea of a river was a river with banks and water in +between), but they laughed and said 'No.' Then I made the motion of +swimming. They said it was impossible, and one man hung his head to +indicate drowning. It was serious. They said to-morrow, or rather next +day, one might do it. + +Finally, a boy that stood by said he remembered a man who knew the +river better than any one, and he, if any one could, would get me +across. So I took the boy with me up the road, and as we went I saw, +parallel to the road, a wide plain of dazzling rocks and sand, and +beyond it, shining and silhouetted like an Arab village, the group of +houses that was Fornovo. This plain was their sort of river in these +hills. The boy said that sometimes it was full and a mile wide, +sometimes it dwindled into dirty pools. Now, as I looked, a few thin +streams seemed to wind through it, and I could not understand the +danger. + +After a mile or two we came to a spot in the road where a patch of +brushwood only separated us from the river-bed. Here the boy bade me +wait, and asked a group of peasants whether the guide was in; they +said they thought so, and some went up into the hillside with the boy +to fetch him, others remained with me, looking at the river-bed and at +Fornovo beyond, shaking their heads, and saying it had not been done +for days. But I did not understand whether the rain-freshet had passed +and was draining away, or whether it had not yet come down from +beyond, and I waited for the guide. + +They brought him at last down from his hut among the hills. He came +with great strides, a kindly-looking man, extremely tall and thin, and +with very pale eyes. He smiled. They pointed me out to him, and we +struck the bargain by holding up three fingers each for three lira, +and nodding. Then he grasped his long staff and I mine, we bade +farewell to the party, and together we went in silence through thick +brushwood down towards the broad river-bed. The stones of it glared +like the sands of Africa; Fornovo baked under the sun all white and +black; between us was this broad plain of parched shingle and rocks +that could, in a night, become one enormous river, or dwindle to a +chain of stagnant ponds. To-day some seven narrow streams wandered in +the expanse, and again they seemed so easy to cross that again I +wondered at the need of a guide. + +We came to the edge of the first, and I climbed on the guide's back. +He went bare-legged into the stream deeper and deeper till my feet, +though held up high, just touched the water; then laboriously he +climbed the further shore, and I got down upon dry land. It had been +but twenty yards or so, and he knew the place well. I had seen, as we +crossed, what a torrent this first little stream was, and I now knew +the difficulty and understood the warnings of the inn. + +The second branch was impassable. We followed it up for nearly a mile +to where 'an island' (that is, a mass of high land that must have been +an island in flood-time, and that had on it an old brown village) +stood above the white bed of the river. Just at this 'island' my guide +found a ford. And the way he found it is worth telling. He taught me +the trick, and it is most useful to men who wander alone in mountains. + +You take a heavy stone, how heavy you must learn to judge, for a more +rapid current needs a heavier stone; but say about ten pounds. This +you lob gently into mid-stream. _How,_ it is impossible to describe, +but when you do it it is quite easy to see that in about four feet of +water, or less, the stone splashes quite differently from the way it +does in five feet or more. It is a sure test, and one much easier to +acquire by practice than to write about. To teach myself this trick I +practised it throughout my journey in these wilds. + +Having found a ford then, he again took me on his shoulders, but, in +mid-stream, the water being up to his breast, his foot slipped on a +stone (all the bed beneath was rolling and churning in the torrent), +and in a moment we had both fallen. He pulled me up straight by his +side, and then indeed, overwhelmed in the rush of water, it was easy +to understand how the Taro could drown men, and why the peasants +dreaded these little ribbons of water. + +The current rushed and foamed past me, coming nearly to my neck; and +it was icy cold. One had to lean against it, and the water so took +away one's weight that at any moment one might have slipped and been +carried away. The guide, a much taller man (indeed he was six foot +three or so), supported me, holding my arm: and again in a moment we +reached dry land. + +After that adventure there was no need for carrying. The third, +fourth, fifth, and sixth branches were easily fordable. The seventh +was broad and deep, and I found it a heavy matter; nor should I have +waded it but for my guide, for the water bore against me like a man +wrestling, and it was as cold as Acheron, the river of the dead. Then +on the further shore, and warning him (in Lingua Franca) of his peril, +I gave him his wage, and he smiled and thanked me, and went back, +choosing his plans at leisure. + +Thus did I cross the river Taro; a danger for men. + +Where I landed was a poor man sunning himself. He rose and walked with +me to Fornovo. He knew the guide. + +'He is a good man,' he said to me of this friend. 'He is as good as a +little piece of bread.' + +'E vero,' I answered; 'e San Cristophero.' + +This pleased the peasant; and indeed it was true. For the guide's +business was exactly that of St Christopher, except that the Saint +took no money, and lived, I suppose, on air. + +And so to Fornovo; and the heat blinded and confused, and the air was +alive with flies. But the sun dried me at once, and I pressed up the +road because I needed food. After I had eaten in this old town I was +preparing to make for Calestano and to cross the first high spur of +the Apennines that separated me from it, when I saw, as I left the +place, a very old church; and I stayed a moment and looked at carvings +which were in no order, but put in pell-mell, evidently chosen from +some older building. They were barbaric, but one could see that they +stood for the last judgement of man, and there were the good looking +foolish, and there were the wicked being boiled by devils in a pot, +and what was most pleasing was one devil who with great joy was +carrying off a rich man's gold in a bag. But now we are too wise to +believe in such follies, and when we die we take our wealth with us; +in the ninth century they had no way of doing this, for no system of +credit yet obtained. + +Then leaving the main road which runs to Pontremoli and at last to +Spezzia, my lane climbed up into the hills and ceased, little by +little, to be even a lane. It became from time to time the bed of a +stream, then nothing, then a lane again, and at last, at the head of +the glen, I confessed to having lost it; but I noted a great rock or +peak above me for a landmark, and I said to myself-- + +'No matter. The wall of this glen before me is obviously the ridge of +the spur; the rock must be left to the north, and I have but to cross +the ridge by its guidance.' By this time, however, the heat overcame +me, and, as it was already afternoon, and as I had used so much of the +preceding night for my journey, I remembered the wise custom of hot +countries and lay down to sleep. + +I slept but a little while, yet when I woke the air was cooler. I +climbed the side of the glen at random, and on the summit I found, to +my disgust, a road. What road could it be? To this day I do not know. +Perhaps I had missed my way and struck the main highway again. Perhaps +(it is often so in the Apennines) it was a road leading nowhere. At +any rate I hesitated, and looked back to judge my direction. + +It was a happy accident. I was now some 2000 feet above the Taro. +There, before me, stood the high strange rock that I had watched from +below; all around it and below me was the glen or cup of bare hills, +slabs, and slopes of sand and stone calcined in the sun, and, beyond +these near things, all the plain of Lombardy was at my feet. + +It was this which made it worth while to have toiled up that steep +wall, and even to have lost my way--to see a hundred miles of the +great flat stretched out before me: all the kingdoms of the world. + +Nor was this all. There were sharp white clouds on the far northern +horizon, low down above the uncertain edge of the world. I looked +again and found they did not move. Then I knew they were the Alps. + +Believe it or not, I was looking back to a place of days before: over +how many, many miles of road! The rare, white peaks and edges could +not deceive me; they still stood to the sunlight, and sent me from +that vast distance the memory of my passage, when their snows had +seemed interminable and their height so monstrous; their cold such a +cloak of death. Now they were as far off as childhood, and I saw them +for the last time. + +All this I drew. Then finding a post directing me to a side road for +Calestano, I followed it down and down into the valley beyond; and up +the walls of this second valley as the evening fell I heard the noise +of the water running, as the Taro had run, a net of torrents from the +melting snows far off. These streams I soon saw below me, winding (as +those of the Taro had wound) through a floor of dry shingle and rock; +but when my road ceased suddenly some hundreds of feet above the bed +of the river, and when, full of evening, I had scrambled down through +trees to the brink of the water, I found I should have to repeat what +I had done that morning and to ford these streams. For there was no +track of any kind and no bridge, and Calestano stood opposite me, a +purple cluster of houses in the dusk against the farther mountain +side. + +Very warily, lobbing stones as I had been taught, and following up and +down each branch to find a place, I forded one by one the six little +cold and violent rivers, and reaching the farther shore, I reached +also, as I thought, supper, companionship, and a bed. + +But it is not in this simple way that human life is arranged. What +awaited me in Calestano was ill favour, a prison, release, base +flattery, and a very tardy meal. + +It is our duty to pity all men. It is our duty to pity those who are +in prison. It is our duty to pity those who are not in prison. How +much more is it the duty of a Christian man to pity the rich who +cannot ever get into prison? These indeed I do now specially pity, and +extend to them my commiseration. + +What! Never even to have felt the grip of the policeman; to have +watched his bold suspicious eye; to have tried to make a good show +under examination ... never to have heard the bolt grinding in the +lock, and never to have looked round at the cleanly simplicity of a +cell? Then what emotions have you had, unimprisonable rich; or what do +you know of active living and of adventure? + +It was after drinking some wine and eating macaroni and bread at a +poor inn, the only one in the place, and after having to shout at the +ill-natured hostess (and to try twenty guesses before I made her +understand that I wanted cheese), it was when I had thus eaten and +shouted, and had gone over the way to drink coffee and to smoke in a +little cafe, that my adventure befell me. + +In the inn there had been a fat jolly-looking man and two +official-looking people with white caps dining at another table. I had +taken no notice of them at the time. But as I sat smoking and thinking +in the little cafe, which was bright and full of people, I noticed a +first danger-signal when I was told sullenly that 'they had no bed; +they thought I could get none in the town': then, suddenly, these two +men in white caps came in, and they arrested me with as much ease as +you or I would hold a horse. + +A moment later there came in two magnificent fellows, gendarmes, with +swords and cocked hats, and moustaches _a l'Abd el Kader,_ as we used +to say in the old days; these four, the two gendarmes and two +policemen, sat down opposite me on chairs and began cross-questioning +me in Italian, a language in which I was not proficient. I so far +understood them as to know that they were asking for my papers. + +'Niente!' said I, and poured out on the table a card-case, a +sketch-book, two pencils, a bottle of wine, a cup, a piece of bread, a +scrap of French newspaper, an old _Secolo,_ a needle, some thread, and +a flute--but no passport. + +They looked in the card-case and found 73 lira; that is, not quite +three pounds. They examined the sketch-book critically, as behoved +southerners who are mostly of an artistic bent: but they found no +passport. They questioned me again, and as I picked about for words to +reply, the smaller (the policeman, a man with a face like a fox) +shouted that he had heard me speaking Italian _currently_ in the inn, +and that my hesitation was a blind. + +This lie so annoyed me that I said angrily in French (which I made as +southern as possible to suit them): + +'You lie: and you can be punished for such lies, since you are an +official.' For though the police are the same in all countries, and +will swear black is white, and destroy men for a song, yet where there +is a _droit administratif-_ that is, where the Revolution has made +things tolerable--you are much surer of punishing your policeman, and +he is much less able to do you a damage than in England or America; +for he counts as an official and is under a more public discipline and +responsibility if he exceeds his powers. + +Then I added, speaking distinctly, 'I can speak French and Latin. Have +you a priest in Calestano, and does he know Latin?' + +This was a fine touch. They winced, and parried it by saying that the +Sindaco knew French. Then they led me away to their barracks while +they fetched the Sindaco, and so I was imprisoned. + +But not for long. Very soon I was again following up the street, and +we came to the house of the Sindaco or Mayor. There he was, an old man +with white hair, God bless him, playing cards with his son and +daughter. To him therefore, as understanding French, I was bidden +address myself. I told him in clear and exact idiom that his policemen +were fools, that his town was a rabbit-warren, and his prison the only +cleanly thing in it; that half-a-dozen telegrams to places I could +indicate would show where I had passed; that I was a common tourist, +not even an artist (as my sketch-book showed), and that my cards gave +my exact address and description. + +But the Sindaco, the French-speaking Sindaco, understood me not in the +least, and it seemed a wicked thing in me to expose him in his old +age, so I waited till he spoke. He spoke a word common to all +languages, and one he had just caught from my lips. + +'Tourist-e?' he said. + +I nodded. Then he told them to let me go. It was as simple as that; +and to this day, I suppose, he passes for a very bilingual Mayor. He +did me a service, and I am willing to believe that in his youth he +smacked his lips over the subtle flavour of Voltaire, but I fear +to-day he would have a poor time with Anatole France. + +What a contrast was there between the hour when I had gone out of the +cafe a prisoner and that when I returned rejoicing with a crowd about +me, proclaiming my innocence, and shouting one to another that I was a +tourist and had seventy-three lira on my person! The landlady smiled +and bowed: she had before refused me a bed! The men at the tables made +me a god! Nor did I think them worse for this. Why should I? A man +unknown, unkempt, unshaven, in tatters, covered with weeks of travel +and mud, and in a suit that originally cost not ten shillings; having +slept in leaves and ferns, and forest places, crosses a river at dusk +and enters a town furtively, not by the road. He is a foreigner; he +carries a great club. Is it not much wiser to arrest such a man? Why +yes, evidently. And when you have arrested him, can you do more than +let him go without proof, on his own word? Hardly! + +Thus I loved the people of Calestano, especially for this strange +adventure they had given me; and next day, having slept in a human +room, I went at sunrise up the mountain sides beyond and above their +town, and so climbed by a long cleft the _second_ spur of the +Apennines: the spur that separated me from the _third_ river, the +Parma. And my goal above the Parma (when I should have crossed it) was +a place marked in the map 'Tizzano'. To climb this second spur, to +reach and cross the Parma in the vale below, to find Tizzano, I left +Calestano on that fragrant morning; and having passed and drawn a +little hamlet called Frangi, standing on a crag, I went on up the +steep vale and soon reached the top of the ridge, which here dips a +little and allows a path to cross over to the southern side. + +It is the custom of many, when they get over a ridge, to begin +singing. Nor did I fail, early as was the hour, to sing in passing +this the second of my Apennine summits. I sang easily with an open +throat everything that I could remember in praise of joy; and I did +not spare the choruses of my songs, being even at pains to imitate +(when they were double) the various voices of either part. + +Now, so much of the Englishman was in me that, coming round a corner +of rock from which one first sees Beduzzo hanging on its ledge (as you +know), and finding round this corner a peasant sitting at his ease, I +was ashamed. For I did not like to be overheard singing fantastic +songs. But he, used to singing as a solitary pastime, greeted me, and +we walked along together, pointing out to each other the glories of +the world before us and exulting in the morning. It was his business +to show me things and their names: the great Mountain of the +Pilgrimage to the South, the strange rock of Castel-Nuovo; in the far +haze the plain of Parma; and Tizzano on its high hill, the ridge +straight before me. He also would tell me the name in Italian of the +things to hand--my boots, my staff, my hat; and I told him their names +in French, all of which he was eager to learn. + +We talked of the way people here tilled and owned ground, of the +dangers in the hills, and of the happiness of lonely men. But if you +ask how we understood each other, I will explain the matter to you. + +In Italy, in the Apennines of the north, there seem to be three strata +of language. In the valleys the Italian was pure, resonant, and +foreign to me. There dwell the townsmen, and they deal down river +with the plains. Half-way up (as at Frangi, at Beduzzo, at Tizzano) I +began to understand them. They have the nasal 'n'; they clip their +words. On the summits, at last, they speak like northerners, and I was +easily understood, for they said not _'vino' _but _'vin';_ not _'duo'_ +but _'du'_, and so forth. They are the Gauls of the hills. I told them +so, and they were very pleased. + +Then I and my peasant parted, but as one should never leave a man +without giving him something to show by way of token on the Day of +Judgement, I gave this man a little picture of Milan, and bade him +keep it for my sake. + +So he went his way, and I mine, and the last thing he said to me was +about a _'molinar'_, but I did not know what that meant. + +When I had taken a cut down the mountain, and discovered a highroad at +the bottom, I saw that the river before me needed fording, like all +the rest; and as my map showed me there was no bridge for many miles +down, I cast about to cross directly, if possible on some man's +shoulders. + +I met an old woman with a heap of grass on her back; I pointed to the +river, and said (in Lingua Franca) that I wished to cross. She again +used that word _'molinar',_ and I had an inkling that it meant +'miller'. I said to myself-- + +'Where there is a miller there is a mill. For _Ubi Petrus ibi +Ecclesia._ Where there is a mill there is water; a mill must have +motive power: .'. (a) I must get near the stream; (b) I must look out +for the noise and aspect of a mill. + +I therefore (thanking the grass-bearing woman) went right over the +fields till I saw a great, slow mill-wheel against a house, and a sad +man standing looking at it as though it were the Procession of God's +Providence. He was thinking of many things. I tapped him on the +shoulder (whereat he started) and spoke the great word of that valley, +_'molinar'_. It opened all the gates of his soul. He smiled at me like +a man grown young again, and, beckoning me to follow, led radiantly up +the sluice to where it drew from the river. + +Here three men were at work digging a better entry for the water. One +was an old, happy man in spectacles, the second a young man with +stilts in his hands, the third was very tall and narrow; his face was +sad, and he was of the kind that endure all things and conquer. I said +'_Molinar_?'' I had found him. + +To the man who had brought me I gave 50 c., and so innocent and good +are these people that he said _'Pourquoi?'_ or words like it, and I +said it was necessary. Then I said to the molinar, _'Quanta?'_ and he, +holding up a tall finger, said '_Una Lira'._ The young man leapt on to +his stilts, the molinar stooped down and I got upon his shoulders, and +we all attempted the many streams of the river Parma, in which I think +I should by myself have drowned. + +I say advisedly--'I should have been drowned.' These upper rivers of +the hills run high and low according to storms and to the melting of +the snows. The river of Parma (for this torrent at last fed Parma) +was higher than the rest. + +Even the molinar, the god of that valley, had to pick his way +carefully, and the young man on stilts had to go before, much higher +than mortal men, and up above the water. I could see him as he went, +and I could see that, to tell the truth, there was a ford--a rare +thing in upper waters, because in the torrent-sources of rivers either +the upper waters run over changeless rocks or else over gravel and +sand. Now if they run over rocks they have their isolated shallow +places, which any man may find, and their deep--evident by the still +and mysterious surface, where fish go round and round in the hollows; +but no true ford continuous from side to side. So it is in Scotland. +And if they run over gravel and sand, then with every storm or 'spate' +they shift and change. But here by some accident there ran--perhaps a +shelf or rock, perhaps a ruin of a Roman bridge--something at least +that was deep enough and solid enough to be a true ford--and that we +followed. + +The molinar--even the molinar--was careful of his way. Twice he +waited, waist high, while the man on stilts before us suddenly lost +ground and plunged to his feet. Once, crossing a small branch (for the +river here, like all these rivers, runs in many arms over the dry +gravel), it seemed there was no foothold and we had to cast up and +down. Whenever we found dry land, I came off the molinar's back to +rest him, and when he took the water again I mounted again. So we +passed the many streams, and stood at last on the Tizzanian side. Then +I gave a lira to the molinar, and to his companion on stilts 50 c., +who said, 'What is this for?' and I said, 'You also helped.' + +The molinar then, with gesticulations and expression of the eyes, gave +me to understand that for this 50 c. the stilt-man would take me up to +Tizzano on the high ridge and show me the path up the ridge; so the +stilt-man turned to me and said, _'Andiamo' _which means _'Allons'. +_But when the Italians say _'Andiamo' _they are less harsh than the +northern French who say _'Allans'; _for the northern French have three +troubles in the blood. They are fighters; they will for ever be +seeking the perfect state, and they love furiously. Hence they ferment +twice over, like wine subjected to movement and breeding acidity. +Therefore is it that when they say _'Allons'_ it is harsher than +_'Andiamo'._ My Italian said to me genially, _'Andiamo_'. + +The Catholic Church makes men. By which I do not mean boasters and +swaggerers, nor bullies nor ignorant fools, who, finding themselves +comfortable, think that their comfort will be a boon to others, and +attempt (with singular unsuccess) to force it on the world; but men, +human beings, different from the beasts, capable of firmness and +discipline and recognition; accepting death; tenacious. Of her effects +the most gracious is the character of the Irish and of these Italians. +Of such also some day she may make soldiers. + +Have you ever noticed that all the Catholic Church does is thought +beautiful and lovable until she comes out into the open, and then +suddenly she is found by her enemies (which are the seven capital +sins, and the four sins calling to heaven for vengeance) to be hateful +and grinding? So it is; and it is the fine irony of her present +renovation that those who were for ever belauding her pictures, and +her saints, and her architecture, as we praise things dead, they are +the most angered by her appearance on this modern field all armed, +just as she was, with works and art and songs, sometimes superlative, +often vulgar. Note you, she is still careless of art or songs, as she +has always been. She lays her foundations in something other, which +something other our moderns hate. Yet out of that something other came +the art and song of the Middle Ages. And what art or songs have you? +She is Europe and all our past. She is returning. _Andiamo._ + +LECTOR. But Mr _(deleted by the Censor)_ does not think so? + +AUCTOR. I last saw him supping at the Savoy. _Andiamo._ + +We went up the hill together over a burnt land, but shaded with trees. +It was very hot. I could scarcely continue, so fast did my companion +go, and so much did the heat oppress me. + +We passed a fountain at which oxen drank, and there I supped up cool +water from the spout, but he wagged his finger before his face to tell +me that this was an error under a hot sun. + +We went on and met two men driving cattle up the path between the +trees. These I soon found to be talking of prices and markets with my +guide. For it was market-day. As we came up at last on to the little +town--a little, little town like a nest, and all surrounded with +walls, and a castle in it and a church--we found a thousand beasts all +lowing and answering each other along the highroad, and on into the +market square through the gate. There my guide led me into a large +room, where a great many peasants were eating soup with macaroni in +it, and some few, meat. But I was too exhausted to eat meat, so I +supped up my broth and then began diapephradizing on my fingers to +show the great innkeeper what I wanted. + +I first pulled up the macaroni out of the dish, and said, _Fromagio, +Pommodoro,_ by which I meant cheese--tomato. He then said he knew what +I meant, and brought me that spaghetti so treated, which is a dish for +a king, a cosmopolitan traitor, an oppressor of the poor, a usurer, or +any other rich man, but there is no spaghetti in the place to which +such men go, whereas these peasants will continue to enjoy it in +heaven. + +I then pulled out my bottle of wine, drank what was left out of the +neck (by way of sign), and putting it down said, _'Tale, tantum, vino +rosso.'_ My guide also said many things which probably meant that I +was a rich man, who threw his money about by the sixpence. So the +innkeeper went through a door and brought back a bottle all corked and +sealed, and said on his fingers, and with his mouth and eyes, 'THIS +KIND OF WINE IS SOMETHING VERY SPECIAL.' + +Only in the foolish cities do men think it a fine thing to appear +careless of money. So I, very narrowly watching him out of half-closed +eyes, held up my five fingers interrogatively, and said, +_'Cinquante?'_ meaning 'Dare you ask fivepence?' + +At which he and all the peasants around, even including my guide, +laughed aloud as at an excellent joke, and said, _'Cinquante, Ho! +ho!'_ and dug each other in the ribs. But the innkeeper of Tizzano Val +Parmense said in Italian a number of things which meant that I could +but be joking, and added (in passing) that a lira made it a kind of +gift to me. A lira was, as it were, but a token to prove that it had +changed hands: a registration fee: a matter of record; at a lira it +was pure charity. Then I said, _'Soixante Dix?'_ which meant nothing +to him, so I held up seven fingers; he waved his hand about genially, +and said that as I was evidently a good fellow, a traveller, and as +anyhow he was practically giving me the wine, he would make it +ninepence; it was hardly worth his while to stretch out his hand for +so little money. So then I pulled out 80 c. in coppers, and said, +_'Tutto',_ which means 'all'. Then he put the bottle before me, took +the money, and an immense clamour rose from all those who had been +watching the scene, and they applauded it as a ratified bargain. And +this is the way in which bargains were struck of old time in these +hills when your fathers and mine lived and shivered in a cave, hunted +wolves, and bargained with clubs only. + +So this being settled, and I eager for the wine, wished it to be +opened, especially to stand drink to my guide. The innkeeper was in +another room. The guide was too courteous to ask for a corkscrew, and +I did not know the Italian for a corkscrew. + +I pointed to the cork, but all I got out of my guide was a remark that +the wine was very good. Then I made the emblem and sign of a corkscrew +in my sketch-book with a pencil, but he pretended not to +understand--such was his breeding. Then I imitated the mode, sound, +and gesture of a corkscrew entering a cork, and an old man next to me +said '_Tira-buchon'--_a common French word as familiar as the woods of +Marly! It was brought. The bottle was opened and we all drank +together. + +As I rose to go out of Tizzano Val Parmense my guide said to me, _'Se +chiama Tira-Buchon perche E' lira il buchon'_ And I said to him, +_'Dominus Vobiscum'_ and left him to his hills. + +I took the road downwards from the ridge into the next dip and valley, +but after a mile or so in the great heat (it was now one o'clock) I +was exhausted. So I went up to a little wooded bank, and lay there in +the shade sketching Tizzano Val Parmense, where it stood not much +above me, and then I lay down and slept for an hour and smoked a pipe +and thought of many things. + +From the ridge on which Tizzano stands, which is the third of these +Apennine spurs, to the next, the fourth, is but a little way; one +looks across from one to the other. Nevertheless it is a difficult +piece of walking, because in the middle of the valley another ridge, +almost as high as the principal spurs, runs down, and this has to be +climbed at its lowest part before one can get down to the torrent of +the Enza, where it runs with a hollow noise in the depths of the +mountains. So the whole valley looks confused, and it appears, and is, +laborious. + +Very high up above in a mass of trees stood the first of those many +ruined towers and castles in which the Apennines abound, and of which +Canossa, far off and indistinguishable in the haze, was the chief +example. It was called 'The Tower of Rugino'. Beyond the deep trench +of the Enza, poised as it seemed on its southern bank (but really much +further off, in the Secchia valley), stood that strange high rock of +Castel-Nuovo, which the peasant had shown me that morning and which +was the landmark of this attempt. It seemed made rather by man than by +nature, so square and exact was it and so cut off from the other +hills. + +It was not till the later afternoon, when the air was already full of +the golden dust that comes before the fall of the evening, that I +stood above the Enza and saw it running thousands of feet below. Here +I halted for a moment irresolute, and looked at the confusion of the +hills. It had been my intention to make a straight line for Collagna, +but I could not tell where Collagna lay save that it was somewhere +behind the high mountain that was now darkening against the sky. +Moreover, the Enza (as I could see down, down from where I stood) was +not fordable. It did not run in streams but in one full current, and +was a true river. All the scene was wild. I had come close to the +central ridge of the Apennines. It stood above me but five or six +clear miles away, and on its slopes there were patches and fields of +snow which were beginning to glimmer in the diminishing light. + +Four peasants sat on the edge of the road. They were preparing to go +to their quiet homesteads, and they were gathering their scythes +together, for they had been mowing in a field. Coming up to these, I +asked them how I might reach Collagna. They told me that I could not +go straight, as I had wished, on account of the impassable river, but +that if I went down the steep directly below me I should find a +bridge; that thence a path went up the opposite ridge to where a +hamlet, called Ceregio (which they showed me beyond the valley), stood +in trees on the crest, and once there (they said) I could be further +directed. I understood all their speech except one fatal word. I +thought they told me that Ceregio was _half_ the way to Collagna; and +what that error cost me you shall hear. + +They drank my wine, I ate their bread, and we parted: they to go to +their accustomed place, and I to cross this unknown valley. But when I +had left these grave and kindly men, the echo of their voices remained +with me; the deep valley of the Enza seemed lonely, and as I went +lower and lower down towards the noise of the river I lost the sun. + +The Enza was flooded. A rough bridge, made of stout logs resting on +trunks of trees that were lashed together like tripods and supported a +long plank, was afforded to cross it. But in the high water it did not +quite reach to the hither bank. I rolled great stones into the water +and made a short causeway, and so, somewhat perilously, I attained the +farther shore, and went up, up by a little precipitous path till I +reached the hamlet of Ceregio standing on its hill, blessed and +secluded; for no road leads in or out of it, but only mule-paths. + +The houses were all grouped together round a church; it was dim +between them; but several men driving oxen took me to a house that was +perhaps the inn, though there was no sign; and there in a twilight +room we all sat down together like Christians in perfect harmony, and +the woman of the house served us. + +Now when, after this communion, I asked the way to Collagna, they must +have thought me foolish, and have wondered why I did not pass the +night with them, for they knew how far off Collagna was. But I (by the +error in language of which I have told you) believed it to be but a +short way off. It was in reality ten miles. The oldest of my +companions said he would put me on the way. + +We went together in the half light by a lane that followed the crest +of the hill, and we passed a charming thing, a little white sculpture +in relief, set up for a shrine and representing the Annunciation; and +as we passed it we both smiled. Then in a few hundred yards we passed +another that was the Visitation, and they were gracious and beautiful +to a degree, and I saw that they stood for the five joyful mysteries. +Then he had to leave me, and he said, pointing to the little shrine: + +'When you come to the fifth of these the path divides. Take that to +the left, and follow it round the hollow of the mountain: it will +become a lane. This lane crosses a stream and passes near a tower. +When you have reached the tower it joins a great highroad, and that is +the road to Collagna.' + +And when he indicated the shrines he smiled, as though in apology for +them, and I saw that we were of the same religion. Then (since people +who will not meet again should give each other presents mutually) I +gave him the best of my two pipes, a new pipe with letters carved on +it, which he took to be the initials of my name, and he on his part +gave me a hedge-rose which he had plucked and had been holding in his +fingers. And I continued the path alone. + +Certainly these people have a benediction upon them, granted them for +their simple lives and their justice. Their eyes are fearless and +kindly. They are courteous, straight, and all have in them laughter +and sadness. They are full of songs, of memories, of the stories of +their native place; and their worship is conformable to the world that +God made. May they possess their own land, and may their influence +come again from Italy to save from jar, and boasting, and ineptitude +the foolish, valourless cities, and the garish crowds of shouting +men.... And let us especially pray that the revival of the faith may +do something for our poor old universities. + +Already, when I heard all these directions, they seemed to argue a +longer road than I had expected. It proved interminable. + +It was now fully dark; the night was very cold from the height of the +hills; a dense dew began to fall upon the ground, and the sky was full +of stars. For hours I went on slowly down the lane that ran round the +hollow of the wooded mountain, wondering why I did not reach the +stream he spoke of. It was midnight when I came to the level, and yet +I heard no water, and did not yet see the tower against the sky. +Extreme fatigue made it impossible, as I thought, to proceed farther, +when I saw a light in a window, and went to it quickly and stood +beneath it. A woman from the window called me _Caro mio,_ which was +gracious, but she would not let me sleep even in the straw of the +barn. + +I hobbled on in despair of the night, for the necessity of sleep was +weighing me down after four high hills climbed that day, and after the +rough ways and the heat and the continual marching. + +I found a bridge which crossed the deep ravine they had told me of. +This high bridge was new, and had been built of fine stone, yet it was +broken and ruined, and a gap suddenly showed in the dark. I stepped +back from it in fear. The clambering down to the stream and up again +through the briars to regain the road broke me yet more, and when, on +the hill beyond, I saw the tower faintly darker against the dark sky, +I went up doggedly to it, fearing faintness, and reaching it where it +stood (it was on the highest ground overlooking the Secchia valley), I +sat down on a stone beside it and waited for the morning. + +The long slope of the hills fell away for miles to where, by daylight, +would have lain the misty plain of Emilia. The darkness confused the +landscape. The silence of the mountains and the awful solemnity of the +place lent that vast panorama a sense of the terrible, under the dizzy +roof of the stars. Every now and again some animal of the night gave a +cry in the undergrowth of the valley, and the great rock of +Castel-Nuovo, now close and enormous--bare, rugged, a desert +place--added something of doom. + +The hours were creeping on with the less certain stars; a very faint +and unliving grey touched the edges of the clouds. The cold possessed +me, and I rose to walk, if I could walk, a little farther. + +What is that in the mind which, after (it may be) a slight +disappointment or a petty accident, causes it to suffer on the scale +of grave things? + +I have waited for the dawn a hundred times, attended by that mournful, +colourless spirit which haunts the last hours of darkness; and +influenced especially by the great timeless apathy that hangs round +the first uncertain promise of increasing light. For there is an hour +before daylight when men die, and when there is nothing above the soul +or around it, when even the stars fail. + +And this long and dreadful expectation I had thought to be worst when +one was alone at sea in a small boat without wind; drifting beyond +one's harbour in the ebb of the outer channel tide, and sogging back +at the first flow on the broad, confused movement of a sea without any +waves. In such lonely mornings I have watched the Owers light turning, +and I have counted up my gulf of time, and wondered that moments could +be so stretched out in the clueless mind. I have prayed for the +morning or for a little draught of wind, and this I have thought, I +say, the extreme of absorption into emptiness and longing. + +But now, on this ridge, dragging myself on to the main road, I found a +deeper abyss of isolation and despairing fatigue than I had ever +known, and I came near to turning eastward and imploring the hastening +of light, as men pray continually without reason for things that can +but come in a due order. I still went forward a little, because when I +sat down my loneliness oppressed me like a misfortune; and because my +feet, going painfully and slowly, yet gave a little balance and rhythm +to the movement of my mind. + +I heard no sound of animals or birds. I passed several fields, +deserted in the half-darkness; and in some I felt the hay, but always +found it wringing wet with dew, nor could I discover a good shelter +from the wind that blew off the upper snow of the summits. For a +little space of time there fell upon me, as I crept along the road, +that shadow of sleep which numbs the mind, but it could not compel me +to lie down, and I accepted it only as a partial and beneficent +oblivion which covered my desolation and suffering as a thin, +transparent cloud may cover an evil moon. + +Then suddenly the sky grew lighter upon every side. That cheating +gloom (which I think the clouds in purgatory must reflect) lifted from +the valley as though to a slow order given by some calm and good +influence that was marshalling in the day. Their colours came back to +things; the trees recovered their shape, life, and trembling; here and +there, on the face of the mountain opposite, the mists by their +movement took part in the new life, and I thought I heard for the +first time the tumbling water far below me in the ravine. That subtle +barrier was drawn which marks to-day from yesterday; all the night and +its despondency became the past and entered memory. The road before +me, the pass on my left (my last ridge, and the entry into Tuscany), +the mass of the great hills, had become mixed into the increasing +light, that is, into the familiar and invigorating Present which I +have always found capable of opening the doors of the future with a +gesture of victory. + +My pain either left me, or I ceased to notice it, and seeing a little +way before me a bank above the road, and a fine grove of sparse and +dominant chestnuts, I climbed up thither and turned, standing to the +east. + +There, without any warning of colours, or of the heraldry that we have +in the north, the sky was a great field of pure light, and without +doubt it was all woven through, as was my mind watching it, with +security and gladness. Into this field, as I watched it, rose the sun. + +The air became warmer almost suddenly. The splendour and health of the +new day left me all in repose, and persuaded or compelled me to +immediate sleep. + +I found therefore in the short grass, and on the scented earth beneath +one of my trees, a place for lying down; I stretched myself out upon +it, and lapsed into a profound slumber, which nothing but a vague and +tenuous delight separated from complete forgetfulness. If the last +confusion of thought, before sleep possessed me, was a kind of +prayer--and certainly I was in the mood of gratitude and of +adoration--this prayer was of course to God, from whom every good +proceeds, but partly (idolatrously) to the Sun, which, of all the +things He has made, seems, of what we at least can discover, the most +complete and glorious. + +Therefore the first hours of the sunlight, after I had wakened, made +the place like a new country; for my mind which received it was new. I +reached Collagna before the great heat, following the fine highroad +that went dipping and rising again along the mountain side, and then +(leaving the road and crossing the little Secchia by a bridge), a +path, soon lost in a grassy slope, gave me an indication of my way. +For when I had gone an hour or so upwards along the shoulder of the +hill, there opened gradually before me a silent and profound vale, +hung with enormous woods, and sloping upwards to where it was closed +by a high bank beneath and between two peaks. This bank I knew could +be nothing else than the central ridge of the Apennines, the +watershed, the boundary of Tuscany, and the end of all the main part +of my journey. Beyond, the valleys would open on to the Tuscan Plain, +and at the southern limit of that, Siena was my mark; from Siena to +Rome an eager man, if he is sound, may march in three long days. Nor +was that calculation all. The satisfaction of the last lap, of the +home run, went with the word Tuscany in my mind; these cities were the +approaches and introduction of the end. + +When I had slept out the heat, I followed the woods upward through the +afternoon. They stood tangled and huge, and the mosses under them were +thick and silent, because in this last belt of the mountains height +and coolness reproduced the north. A charcoal burner was making his +furnace; after that for the last miles there was no sound. Even the +floor of the vale was a depth of grass, and no torrent ran in it but +only a little hidden stream, leafy like our streams at home. + +At last the steep bank, a wall at the end of the valley, rose +immediately above me. It was very steep and bare, desolate with the +many stumps of trees that had been cut down; but all its edge and +fringe against the sky was the line of a deep forest. + +After its laborious hundreds of feet, when the forest that crowned it +evenly was reached, the Apennines were conquered, the last great range +was passed, and there stood no barrier between this high crest and +Rome. + +The hither side of that bank, I say, had been denuded of its trees; +the roots of secular chestnuts stood like graves above the dry steep, +and had marked my last arduous climb. Now, at the summit, the highest +part was a line of cool forest, and the late afternoon mingled with +the sanctity of trees. A genial dampness pervaded the earth beneath; +grasses grew, and there were living creatures in the shade. + +Nor was this tenanted wood all the welcome I received on my entry into +Tuscany. Already I heard the noise of falling waters upon every side, +where the Serchio sprang from twenty sources on the southern slope, +and leapt down between mosses, and quarrelled, and overcame great +smooth dark rocks in busy falls. Indeed, it was like my own country in +the north, and a man might say to himself--'After so much journeying, +perhaps I am in the Enchanted Wood, and may find at last the fairy +Melisaunde.' + +A glade opened, and, the trees no longer hiding it, I looked down the +vale, which was the gate of Tuscany. There--high, jagged, rapt into +the sky--stood such a group of mountains as men dream of in good +dreams, or see in the works of painters when old age permits them +revelations. Their height was evident from the faint mist and grey of +their hues; their outline was tumultuous, yet balanced; full of +accident and poise. It was as though these high walls of Carrara, the +western boundary of the valley, had been shaped expressly for man, in +order to exalt him with unexpected and fantastic shapes, and to expand +his dull life with a permanent surprise. For a long time I gazed at +these great hills. + +Then, more silent in the mind through their influence, I went down +past the speech and companionship of the springs of the Serchio, and +the chestnut trees were redolent of evening all round. Down the bank +to where the streams met in one, down the river, across its gaping, +ruinous bridge (which some one, generations ago, had built for the +rare travellers--there were then no main roads across the Apennine, +and perhaps this rude pass was in favour); down still more gently +through the narrow upper valley I went between the chestnut trees, and +calm went with me for a companion: and the love of men and the +expectation of good seemed natural to all that had been made in this +blessed place. Of Borda, where the peasants directed me, there is no +need to speak, till crossing the Serchio once more, this time on a +trestle bridge of wood, I passed by a wider path through the groves, +and entered the dear village of Sillano, which looks right into the +pure west. And the peaks are guardians all about it: the elder +brothers of this remote and secluded valley. + +An inn received me: a great kitchen full of men and women talking, a +supper preparing, a great fire, meat smoking and drying in the +ingle-nook, a vast timbered roof going up into darkness: there I was +courteously received, but no one understood my language. Seeing there +a young priest, I said to him-- + +_'Pater, habeo linguam latinam, sed non habeo linguam Italicam. Visne +mi dare traductionem in istam linguam Toscanam non nullorum +verborum?'_ + +To this he replied, _'Libenter,'_ and the people revered us both. Thus +he told me the name for a knife was _cultello;_ for a room, _camera +par domire;_ for 'what is it called?' _'come si chiama?';_ for 'what +is the road to?' _'quella e la via a ...?'_ and other phrases wherein, +no doubt, I am wrong; but I only learnt by ear. + +Then he said to me something I did not understand, and I answered, +_'Pol-Hercle!'_ at which he seemed pleased enough. + +Then, to make conversation, I said, _'Diaconus es?'_ + +And he answered me, mildly and gravely, _'Presbyter sum.'_ + +And a little while after he left for his house, but I went out on to +the balcony, where men and women were talking in subdued tones. There, +alone, I sat and watched the night coming up into these Tuscan hills. +The first moon since that waning in Lorraine--(how many nights ago, +how many marches!)--hung in the sky, a full crescent, growing into +brightness and glory as she assumed her reign. The one star of the +west called out his silent companions in their order; the mountains +merged into a fainter confusion; heaven and the infinite air became +the natural seat of any spirit that watched this spell. The fire-flies +darted in the depths of vineyards and of trees below; then the noise +of the grasshoppers brought back suddenly the gardens of home, and +whatever benediction surrounds our childhood. Some promise of eternal +pleasures and of rest deserved haunted the village of Sillano. + +In very early youth the soul can still remember its immortal +habitation, and clouds and the edges of hills are of another kind from +ours, and every scent and colour has a savour of Paradise. What that +quality may be no language can tell, nor have men made any words, no, +nor any music, to recall it--only in a transient way and elusive the +recollection of what youth was, and purity, flashes on us in phrases +of the poets, and is gone before we can fix it in our minds--oh! my +friends, if we could but recall it! Whatever those sounds may be that +are beyond our sounds, and whatever are those keen lives which remain +alive there under memory--whatever is Youth--Youth came up that valley +at evening, borne upon a southern air. If we deserve or attain +beatitude, such things shall at last be our settled state; and their +now sudden influence upon the soul in short ecstasies is the proof +that they stand outside time, and are not subject to decay. + +This, then, was the blessing of Sillano, and here was perhaps the +highest moment of those seven hundred miles--or more. Do not therefore +be astonished, reader, if I now press on much more hurriedly to Rome, +for the goal is almost between my hands, and the chief moment has been +enjoyed, until I shall see the City. + +Now I cry out and deplore me that this next sixty miles of way, but +especially the heat of the days and the dank mists of the night, +should have to be told as of a real journey in this very repetitive +and sui-similar world. How much rather I wish that being free from +mundane and wide-awake (that is to say from perilously dusty) +considerations and droughty boredoms, I might wander forth at leisure +through the air and visit the regions where everything is as the soul +chooses: to be dropped at last in the ancient and famous town of +Siena, whence comes that kind of common brown paint wherewith men, +however wicked, can produce (if they have but the art) very surprising +effects of depth in painting: for so I read of it in a book by a fool, +at six shillings, and even that was part of a series: but if you wish +to know anything further of the matter, go you and read it, for I will +do nothing of the kind. + +Oh to be free for strange voyages even for a little while! I am tired +of the road; and so are you, and small blame to you. Your fathers also +tired of the treadmill, and mine of the conquering marches of the +Republic. Heaven bless you all! + +But I say that if it were not for the incredulity and doubt and +agnostico-schismatical hesitation, and very cumbersome air of +questioning-and-peering-about, which is the bane of our moderns, very +certainly I should now go on to tell of giants as big as cedars, +living in mountains of precious stones, and drawn to battle by dragons +in cars of gold; or of towns where the customs of men were remote and +unexpected; of countries not yet visited, and of the gods returning. +For though it is permissible, and a pleasant thing (as Bacon says), to +mix a little falsehood with one's truth (so St Louis mixed water with +his wine, and so does Sir John Growl mix vinegar with his, unless I am +greatly mistaken, for if not, how does he give it that taste at his +dinners? eh? There, I think, is a question that would puzzle him!) yet +is it much more delectable, and far worthier of the immortal spirit of +man to soar into the empyrean of pure lying--that is, to lay the +bridle on the neck of Pegasus and let him go forward, while in the +saddle meanwhile one sits well back, grips with the knee, takes the +race, and on the energy of that steed visits the wheeling stars. + +This much, then, is worth telling of the valley of the Serchio, that +it is narrow, garrulous with water brawling, wooded densely, and +contained by fantastic mountains. That it has a splendid name, like +the clashing of cymbals--Garfagnana; that it leads to the Tuscan +plain, and that it is over a day's march long. Also, it is an oven. + +Never since the early liars first cooked eggs in the sand was there +such heat, and it was made hotter by the consciousness of folly, than +which there is no more heating thing; for I think that not old +Championnet himself, with his Division of Iron, that fought one to +three and crushed the aged enormities of the oppressors as we would +crush an empty egg, and that found the summer a good time for fighting +in Naples, I say that he himself would not have marched men up the +Garfagnana in such a sun. Folly planned it, Pride held to it, and the +devils lent their climate. Garfagnana! Garfagnana! to have such a +pleasant name, and to be what you are! + +Not that there were not old towers on the steep woods of the Apennine, +nor glimpses of the higher peaks; towns also: one castle surrounded by +a fringe of humble roofs--there were all these things. But it was an +oven. So imagine me, after having passed chapels built into rocks, and +things most curious, but the whole under the strain of an intolerable +sun, coming, something after midday, to a place called Castel-Nuovo, +the first town, for Campogiamo is hardly a town. + +At Castel-Nuovo I sat upon a bridge and thought, not what good men +think (there came into my memory no historical stuff; for all I know, +Liberty never went by that valley in arms); no appreciation of beauty +filled me; I was indifferent to all save the intolerable heat, when I +suddenly recognized the enormous number of bridges that bespattered +the town. + +'This is an odd thing,' I mused. 'Here is a little worriment of a town +up in the hills, and what a powerful lot of bridges!' + +I cared not a fig for the thousand things I had been told to expect in +Tuscany; everything is in a mind, and as they were not in my mind they +did not exist. But the bridges, they indeed were worthy of admiration! + +Here was a horrible little place on a torrent bank. One bridge was +reasonable for by it went the road leading south to Lucca and to Rome; +it was common honour to let men escape. But as I sat on that main +bridge I counted seven others; indeed there must have been a worship +of a bridge-god some time or other to account for such a necklace of +bridges in such a neglected borough. + +You may say (I am off hard on the road to Borgo, drooping with the +heat, but still going strongly), you may say that is explicable +enough. First a thing is useful, you say, then it has to become +routine; then the habit, being a habit, gets a sacred idea attached to +it. So with bridges: _e.g._ Pontifex; Dervorguilla, our Ballici saint +that built a bridge; the devil that will hinder the building of +bridges; _cf. _the Porphyry Bridge in the Malay cosmogony; +Amershickel, Brueckengebildung im kult-Historischer. Passenmayer; +Durat, _Le pont antique, etude sur les origines Toscanes;_ Mr Dacre's +_The Command of Bridges in Warfare; Bridges and Empire,_ by Captain +Hole, U.S.A. You may say all this; I shall not reply. If the heat has +hindered me from saying a word of the fine open valley on the left, of +the little railway and of the last of the hills, do you suppose it +will permit me to discuss the sanctity of bridges? If it did, I think +there is a little question on 'why should habit turn sacred?' which +would somewhat confound and pose you, and pose also, for that matter, +every pedant that ever went blind and crook-backed over books, or took +ivory for horn. And there is an end of it. Argue it with whom you +will. It is evening, and I am at Borgo (for if many towns are called +Castel-Nuovo so are many called Borgo in Italy), and I desire to be +free of interruption while I eat and sleep and reflect upon the error +of that march in that heat, spoiling nearly thirty miles of road, +losing so many great and pleasurable emotions, all for haste and from +a neglect of the Italian night. + +And as I ate, and before I slept, I thought of that annotated Guide +Book which is cried out for by all Europe, and which shall tell blunt +truths. Look you out _'Garfagnana, district of, Valley of Serchio'_ +in the index. You will be referred to p. 267. Turn to p. 267. You +will find there the phrase-- + +'One can walk from the pretty little village of Sillano, nestling in +its chestnut groves, to the flourishing town of Borgo on the new Bagni +railway in a day.' + +You will find a mark [1] after that phrase. It refers to a footnote. +Glance (or look) at the bottom of the page and you will find: + +[1] But if one does one is a fool. + +So I slept late and uneasily the insufficient sleep of men who have +suffered, and in that uneasy sleep I discovered this great truth: that +if in a southern summer you do not rest in the day the night will seem +intolerably warm, but that, if you rest in the day, you will find +coolness and energy at evening. + +The next morning with daylight I continued the road to Lucca, and of +that also I will say nothing. + +LECTOR. Why on earth did you write this book? + +AUCTOR. For my amusement. + +LECTOR. And why do you suppose I got it? + +AUCTOR. I cannot conceive ... however, I will give up this much, to +tell you that at Decimo the mystery of cypress trees first came into +my adventure and pilgrimage: of cypress trees which henceforward were +to mark my Tuscan road. And I will tell you that there also I came +across a thing peculiar (I suppose) to the region of Lucca, for I saw +it there as at Decimo, and also some miles beyond. I mean fine +mournful towers built thus: In the first storey one arch, in the +second two, in the third three, and so on: a very noble way of +building. + +And I will tell you something more. I will tell you something no one +has yet heard. To wit, why this place is called Decimo, and why just +below it is another little spot called Sexta. + +LECTOR.. .. + +AUCTOR. I know what you are going to say! Do not say it. You are going +to say: 'It is because they were at the sixth and tenth milestones +from Lucca on the Roman road.' Heaven help these scientists! Did you +suppose that I thought it was called Decimo because the people had ten +toes? Tell me, why is not every place ten miles out of a Roman town +called by such a name? Eh? You are dumb. You cannot answer. Like most +moderns you have entirely missed the point. We all know that there was +a Roman town at Lucca, because it was called Luca, and if there had +been no Roman town the modern town would not be spelt with two _c's._ +All Roman towns had milestones beyond them. But why did _this_ tenth +milestone from _this_ Roman town keep its name? + +LECTOR. I am indifferent. + +AUCTOR. I will tell you. Up in the tangle of the Carrara mountains, +overhanging the Garfagnana, was a wild tribe, whose name I forget +(unless it were the Bruttii), but which troubled the Romans not a +little, defeating them horribly, and keeping the legionaries in some +anxiety for years. So when the soldiers marched out north from Luca +about six miles, they could halt and smile at each other, and say 'At +_Sextant..._ that's all right. All safe so far!' and therefore only a +little village grew up at this little rest and emotion. But as they +got nearer the gates of the hills they began to be visibly perturbed, +and they would say: 'The eighth mile! cheer up!' Then 'The ninth mile! +Sanctissima Madonna! Have you seen anything moving on the heights?' +But when they got to the _tenth_ milestone, which stands before the +very jaws of the defile, then indeed they said with terrible emphasis, +_'Ad Decimam!'_ And there was no restraining them: they would camp and +entrench, or die in the venture: for they were Romans and stern +fellows, and loved a good square camp and a ditch, and sentries and a +clear moon, and plenty of sharp stakes, and all the panoply of war. +That is the origin of Decimo. + +For all my early start, the intolerable heat had again taken the +ascendant before I had fairly entered the plain. Then, it being yet +but morning, I entered from the north the town of Lucca, which is the +neatest, the regularest, the exactest, the most fly-in-amber little +town in the world, with its uncrowded streets, its absurd +fortifications, and its contented silent houses--all like a family at +ease and at rest under its high sun. It is as sharp and trim as its +own map, and that map is as clear as a geometrical problem. Everything +in Lucca is good. + +I went with a short shadow, creeping when I could on the eastern side +of the street to save the sunlight; then I came to the main square, +and immediately on my left was the Albergo di Something-or-other, a +fine great hotel, but most unfortunately right facing the blazing sky. +I had to stop outside it to count my money. I counted it wrong and +entered. There I saw the master, who talked French. + +'Can you in an hour,' said I, 'give me a meal to my order, then a bed, +though it is early day?' This absurd question I made less absurd by +explaining to him my purpose. How I was walking to Rome and how, being +northern, I was unaccustomed to such heat; how, therefore, I had +missed sleep, and would find it necessary in future to walk mainly by +night. For I had now determined to fill the last few marches up in +darkness, and to sleep out the strong hours of the sun. + +All this he understood; I ordered such a meal as men give to beloved +friends returned from wars. I ordered a wine I had known long ago in +the valley of the Saone in the old time of peace before ever the Greek +came to the land. While they cooked it I went to their cool and +splendid cathedral to follow a late Mass. Then I came home and ate +their admirable food and drank the wine which the Burgundians had +trodden upon the hills of gold so many years before. They showed me a +regal kind of a room where a bed with great hangings invited repose. + +All my days of marching, the dirty inns, the forests, the nights +abroad, the cold, the mists, the sleeplessness, the faintness, the +dust, the dazzling sun, the Apennines--all my days came over me, and +there fell on me a peaceful weight, as his two hundred years fell upon +Charlemagne in the tower of Saragossa when the battle was done; after +he had curbed the valley of Ebro and christened Bramimonde. + +So I slept deeply all day long; and, outside, the glare made a silence +upon the closed shutters, save that little insects darted in the outer +air. + +When I woke it was evening. So well had they used me that I paid what +they asked, and, not knowing what money remained over, I left their +town by the southern gate, crossed the railway and took the road. + +My way lay under the flank of that mountain whereby the Luccans cannot +see Pisa, or the Pisans cannot see Lucca--it is all one to me, I shall +not live in either town, God willing; and if they are so eager to +squint at one another, in Heaven's name, cannot they be at the pains +to walk round the end of the hill? It is this laziness which is the +ruin of many; but not of pilgrims, for here was I off to cross the +plain of Arno in one night, and reach by morning the mouth and gate of +that valley of the Elsa, which same is a very manifest proof of how +Rome was intended to be the end and centre of all roads, the chief +city of the world, and the Popes' residence--as, indeed, it plainly is +to this day, for all the world to deny at their peril, spiritual, +geographical, historical, sociological, economic, and philosophical. + +For if some such primeval and predestinarian quality were not inherent +in the City, how, think you, would the valley of the Serchio--the hot, +droughty, and baking Garfagnana--lead down pointing straight to Rome; +and how would that same line, prolonged across the plain, find fitting +it exactly beyond that plain this vale of the Elsa, itself leading up +directly towards Rome? I say, nowhere in the world is such a +coincidence observable, and they that will not take it for a portent +may go back to their rationalism and consort with microbes and make +their meals off logarithms, washed down with an exact distillation of +the root of minus one; and the peace of fools, that is the deepest and +most balmy of all, be theirs for ever and ever. + +Here again you fall into errors as you read, ever expecting something +new; for of that night's march there is nothing to tell, save that it +was cool, full of mist, and an easy matter after the royal +entertainment and sleep of the princely Albergo that dignifies Lucca. +The villages were silent, the moon soon left the sky, and the stars +could not show through the fog, which deepened in the hours after +midnight. + +A map I had bought in Lucca made the difficulties of the first part of +the road (though there were many cross-ways) easy enough; and the +second part, in midnight and the early hours, was very plain sailing, +till--having crossed the main line and having, at last, very weary, +come up to the branch railway at a slant from the west and north, I +crossed that also under the full light--I stood fairly in the Elsa +valley and on the highroad which follows the railway straight to +Siena. That long march, I say, had been easy enough in the coolness +and in the dark; but I saw nothing; my interior thoughts alone would +have afforded matter for this part; but of these if you have not had +enough in near six hundred miles of travel, you are a stouter fellow +than I took you for. + +Though it was midsummer, the light had come quickly. Long after +sunrise the mist dispersed, and the nature of the valley appeared. + +It was in no way mountainous, but easy, pleasant, and comfortable, +bounded by low, rounded hills, having upon them here and there a row +of cypresses against the sky; and it was populous with pleasant farms. +Though the soil was baked and dry, as indeed it is everywhere in this +south, yet little regular streams (or canals) irrigated it and +nourished many trees--- but the deep grass of the north was wanting. + +For an hour or more after sunrise I continued my way very briskly; +then what had been the warmth of the early sun turned into the violent +heat of day, and remembering Merlin where he says that those who will +walk by night must sleep by day, and having in my mind the severe +verses of James Bayle, sometime Fellow of St Anne's, that 'in Tuscan +summers as a general rule, the days are sultry but the nights are +cool' (he was no flamboyant poet; he loved the quiet diction of the +right wing of English poetry), and imagining an owlish habit of +sleeping by day could be acquired at once, I lay down under a tree of +a kind I had never seen; and lulled under the pleasant fancy that this +was a picture-tree drawn before the Renaissance, and that I was +reclining in some background landscape of the fifteenth century (for +the scene was of that kind), I fell asleep. + +When I woke it was as though I had slept long; but I doubted the +feeling. The young sun still low in the sky, and the shadows not yet +shortened, puzzled me. I looked at my watch, but the dislocation of +habit which night marches produce had left it unwound. It marked a +quarter to three, which was absurd. I took the road somewhat stiffly +and wondering. I passed several small white cottages; there was no +clock in them, and their people were away. At last in a Trattoria, as +they served me with food, a woman told me it was just after seven; I +had slept but an hour. + +Outside, the day was intense; already flies had begun to annoy the +darkened room within. Through the half-curtained door the road was +white in the sun, and the railway ran just beyond. + +I paid my reckoning, and then, partly for an amusement, I ranged my +remaining pence upon the table, first in the shape of a Maltese cross, +then in a circle (interesting details!). The road lay white in the +sunlight outside, and the railway ran just beyond. + +I counted the pence and the silver--there was three francs and a +little over; I remembered the imperial largesse at Lucca, the lordly +spending of great sums, where, now in the pocket of an obsequious man, +the pounds were taking care of themselves. I remembered how at Como I +had been compelled by poverty to enter the train for Milan. How little +was three francs for the remaining twenty-five miles to Siena! The +road lay white in the sunlight, and the railway ran just beyond. + +I remembered the pleasing cheque in the post-office of Siena; the +banks of Siena, and the money changers at their counters changing +money at the rate of change. + +'If one man,' thought I, 'may take five per cent discount on a sum of +money in the exchange, may not another man take discount off a walk of +over seven hundred miles? May he not cut off it, as his due, +twenty-five miserable little miles in the train?' Sleep coming over me +after my meal increased the temptation. Alas! how true is the great +phrase of Averroes (or it may be Boa-ed-din: anyhow, the Arabic +escapes me, but the meaning is plain enough), that when one has once +fallen, it is easy to fall again (saving always heavy falls from +cliffs and high towers, for after these there is no more falling).... +Examine the horse's knees before you buy him; take no ticket-of-leave +man into your house for charity; touch no prospectus that has +founders' shares, and do not play with firearms or knives and never go +near the water till you know how to swim. Oh! blessed wisdom of the +ages! sole patrimony of the poor! The road lay white in the sun, and +the railway ran just beyond. + +If the people of Milo did well to put up a statue in gold to the man +that invented wheels, so should we also put one up in Portland stone +or plaster to the man that invented rails, whose property it is not +only to increase the speed and ease of travel, but also to bring on +slumber as can no drug: not even poppies gathered under a waning moon. +The rails have a rhythm of slight falls and rises ... they make a loud +roar like a perpetual torrent; they cover up the mind with a veil. + +Once only, when a number of men were shouting 'POGGI-BON-SI,' like a +war-cry to the clank of bronze, did I open my eyes sleepily to see a +hill, a castle wall, many cypresses, and a strange tower bulging out +at the top (such towers I learned were the feature of Tuscany). Then +in a moment, as it seemed, I awoke in the station of Siena, where the +railway ends and goes no farther. + +It was still only morning; but the glare was beyond bearing as I +passed through the enormous gate of the town, a gate pierced in high +and stupendous walls that are here guarded by lions. In the narrow +main street there was full shade, and it was made cooler by the +contrast of the blaze on the higher storeys of the northern side. The +wonders of Siena kept sleep a moment from my mind. I saw their great +square where a tower of vast height marks the guildhall. I heard Mass +in a chapel of their cathedral: a chapel all frescoed, and built, as +it were, out of doors, and right below the altar-end or choir. I noted +how the city stood like a queen of hills dominating all Tuscany: above +the Elsa northward, southward above the province round Mount Amiato. +And this great mountain I saw also hazily far off on the horizon. I +suffered the vulgarities of the main street all in English and +American, like a show. I took my money and changed it; then, having so +passed not a full hour, and oppressed by weariness, I said to myself: + +'After all, my business is not with cities, and already I have seen +far off the great hill whence one can see far off the hills that +overhang Rome.' + +With this in my mind I wandered out for a quiet place, and found it in +a desolate green to the north of the city, near a huge, old red-brick +church like a barn. A deep shadow beneath it invited me in spite of +the scant and dusty grass, and in this country no one disturbs the +wanderer. There, lying down, I slept without dreams till evening. + +AUCTOR. Turn to page 94. + +LECTOR. I have it. It is not easy to watch the book in two places at +once; but pray continue. + +AUCTOR. Note the words from the eighth to the tenth lines. + +LECTOR. Why? + +AUCTOR. They will make what follows seem less abrupt. + +Once there was a man dining by himself at the Cafe Anglais, in the +days when people went there. It was a full night, and he sat alone at +a small table, when there entered a very big man in a large fur coat. +The big man looked round annoyed, because there was no room, and the +first man very courteously offered him a seat at his little table. +They sat down and ate and talked of several things; among others, of +Bureaucracy. The first maintained that Bureaucracy was the curse of +France. + +'Men are governed by it like sheep. The administrator, however humble, +is a despot; most people will even run forward to meet him halfway, +like the servile dogs they are,' said he. + +'No,' answered the Man in the Big Fur Coat, 'I should say men were +governed just by the ordinary human sense of authority. I have no +theories. I say they recognize authority and obey it. Whether it is +bureaucratic or not is merely a question of form.' + +At this moment there came in a tall, rather stiff Englishman. He also +was put out at finding no room. The two men saw the manager approach +him; a few words were passed, and a card; then the manager suddenly +smiled, bowed, smirked, and finally went up to the table and begged +that the Duke of Sussex might be allowed to share it. The Duke hoped +he did not incommode these gentlemen. They assured him that, on the +contrary, they esteemed his presence a favour. + +'It is our prerogative,' said the Man in the Big Fur Coat, 'to be the +host Paris entertaining her Guest.' + +They would take no denial; they insisted on the Duke's dining with +them, and they told him what they had just been discussing. The Duke +listened to their theories with some _morgue,_ much _spleen,_ and no +little _phlegm,_ but with _perfect courtesy,_ and then, towards the +coffee, told them in fluent French with a strong accent, his own +opinion. (He had had eight excellent courses; Yquem with his fish, the +best Chambertin during the dinner, and a glass of wonderful champagne +with his dessert.) He spoke as follows, with a slight and rather hard +smile: + +'My opinion may seem to you impertinent, but I believe nothing more +subtly and powerfully affects men than the aristocratic feeling. Do +not misunderstand me,' he added, seeing that they would protest; 'it +is not my own experience alone that guides me. All history bears +witness to the same truth.' + +The simple-minded Frenchmen put down this infatuation to the Duke's +early training, little knowing that our English men of rank are the +simplest fellows in the world, and are quite indifferent to their +titles save in business matters. + +The Frenchmen paid the bill, and they all three went on to the +Boulevard. + +'Now,' said the first man to his two companions, 'I will give you a +practical example of what I meant when I said that Bureaucracy +governed mankind.' + +He went up to the wall of the Credit Lyonnais, put the forefinger of +either hand against it, about twenty-five centimetres apart, and at a +level of about a foot above his eyes. Holding his fingers thus he +gazed at them, shifting them slightly from time to time and moving his +glance from one to the other rapidly. A crowd gathered. In a few +moments a pleasant elderly, short, and rather fat gentleman in the +crowd came forward, and, taking off his hat, asked if he could do +anything for him. + +'Why,' said our friend, 'the fact is I am an engineer (section D of +the Public Works Department) and I have to make an important +measurement in connexion with the Apothegm of the Bilateral which runs +to-night precisely through this spot. My fingers now mark exactly the +concentric of the secondary focus whence the Radius Vector should be +drawn, but I find that (like a fool) I have left my Double Refractor +in the cafe hard by. I dare not go for fear of losing the place I have +marked; yet I can get no further without my Double Refractor.' + +'Do not let that trouble you,' said the short, stout stranger; 'I will +be delighted to keep the place exactly marked while you run for your +instrument.' + +The crowd was now swelled to a considerable size; it blocked up the +pavement, and was swelled every moment by the arrival of the curious. +The little fat elderly man put his fingers exactly where the other's +had been, effecting the exchange with a sharp gesture; and each +watched intently to see that it was right to within a millimetre. The +attitude was constrained. The elderly man smiled, and begged the +engineer not to be alarmed. So they left him with his two forefingers +well above his head, precisely twenty-five centimetres apart, and +pressing their tips against the wall of the Credit Lyonnais. Then the +three friends slipped out of the crowd and pursued their way. + +'Let us go to the theatre,' said the experimenter, 'and when we come +back I warrant you will agree with my remarks on Bureaucracy.' + +They went to hear the admirable marble lines of Corneille. For three +hours they were absorbed by the classics, and, when they returned, a +crowd, now enormous, was surging all over the Boulevard, stopping the +traffic and filled with a noise like the sea. Policemen were attacking +it with the utmost energy, but still it grew and eddied; and in the +centre--a little respectful space kept empty around him--still +stretched the poor little fat elderly man, a pitiable sight. His knees +were bent, his head wagged and drooped with extreme fatigue, he was +the colour of old blotting-paper; but still he kept the tips of his +two forefingers exactly twenty-five centimetres apart, well above his +head, and pressed against the wall of the Credit Lyonnais. + +'You will not match that with your aristocratic sentiment!' said the +author of the scene in pardonable triumph. + +'I am not so sure,' answered the Duke of Sussex. He pulled out his +watch. 'It is midnight,' he said, 'and I must be off; but let me tell +you before we part that you have paid for a most expensive dinner, and +have behaved all night with an extravagant deference under the +impression that I was the Duke of Sussex. As a fact my name is Jerks, +and I am a commercial traveller in the linseed oil line; and I wish +you the best of good evenings.' + +'Wait a moment,' said the Man in the Big Fur Coat; 'my theory of the +Simple Human Sense of Authority still holds. I am a detective officer, +and you will both be good enough to follow me to the police station.' + +And so they did, and the Engineer was fined fifty francs in +correctional, and the Duke of Sussex was imprisoned for ten days, with +interdiction of domicile for six months; the first indeed under the +Prefectorial Decree of the 18th of November 1843, but the second under +the law of the 12th germinal of the year VIII. + +In this way I have got over between twenty and thirty miles of road +which were tramped in the dark, and the description of which would +have plagued you worse than a swarm of hornets. + +Oh, blessed interlude! no struggling moon, no mist, no long-winded +passages upon the genial earth, no the sense of the night, no marvels +of the dawn, no rhodomontade, no religion, no rhetoric, no sleeping +villages, no silent towns (there was one), no rustle of trees--just a +short story, and there you have a whole march covered as though a +brigade had swung down it. A new day has come, and the sun has risen +over the detestable parched hillocks of this downward way. + +No, no, Lector! Do not blame me that Tuscany should have passed +beneath me unnoticed, as the monotonous sea passes beneath a boat in +full sail. Blame all those days of marching; hundreds upon hundreds of +miles that exhausted the powers of the mind. Blame the fiery and angry +sky of Etruria, that compelled most of my way to be taken at night. +Blame St Augustine, who misled me in his Confessions by talking like +an African of 'the icy shores of Italy'; or blame Rome, that now more +and more drew me to Herself as She approached from six to five, from +five to four, from four to three--now She was but _three_ days off. +The third sun after that I now saw rising would shine upon the City. + +I did indeed go forward a little in the heat, but it was useless. +After an hour I abandoned it. It was not so much the sun, though that +was intemperate and deadly; it was rather the inhuman aspect of the +earth which made me despair. It was as though the soil had been left +imperfect and rough after some cataclysm; it reminded me of those bad +lands in the west of America, where the desert has no form, and where +the crumbling and ashy look of things is more abhorrent than their +mere desolation. As soon march through evil dreams! + +The north is the place for men. Eden was there; and the four rivers of +Paradise are the Seine, the Oise, the Thames, and the Arun; there are +grasses there, and the trees are generous, and the air is an unnoticed +pleasure. The waters brim up to the edges of the fields. But for this +bare Tuscany I was never made. + +How far I had gone I could not tell, nor precisely how much farther +San Quirico, the neighbouring town, might be. The imperfect map I had +bought at Siena was too minute to give me clear indications. I was +content to wait for evening, and then to go on till I found it. An +hour or so in the shade of a row of parched and dusty bushes I lay and +ate and drank my wine, and smoked, and then all day I slept, and woke +a while, and slept again more deeply. But how people sleep and wake, +if you do not yet know it after so much of this book you never will. + +It was perhaps five o'clock, or rather more, when I rose unhappily and +took up the ceaseless road. + +Even the goodness of the Italian nature seemed parched up in those dry +hollows. At an inn where I ate they shouted at me, thinking in that +way to make me understand; and their voices were as harsh as the +grating of metal against stone. A mile farther I crossed a lonely line +of railway; then my map told me where I was, and I went wearily up an +indefinite slope under the declining sun, and thought it outrageous +that only when the light had gone was there any tolerable air in this +country. + +Soon the walls of San Quirico, partly ruinous, stood above the fields +(for the smallest places here have walls); as I entered its gate the +sun set, and as though the cool, coming suddenly, had a magic in it, +everything turned kinder. A church that could wake interest stood at +the entry of the town; it had stone lions on its steps, and the +pillars were so carved as to resemble knotted ropes. There for the +first time I saw in procession one of those confraternities which in +Italy bury the dead; they had long and dreadful hoods over their +heads, with slits for the eyes. I spoke to the people of San Quirico, +and they to me. They were upstanding, and very fine and noble in the +lines of the face. On their walls is set a marble tablet, on which it +is registered that the people of Tuscany, being asked whether they +would have their hereditary Duke or the House of Savoy, voted for the +latter by such and such a great majority; and this kind of tablet I +afterwards found was common to all these small towns. Then passing +down their long street I came, at the farther gate, to a great sight, +which the twilight still permitted me to receive in its entirety. + +For San Quirico is built on the edge of a kind of swell in the land, +and here where I stood one looked over the next great wave; for the +shape of the view was, on a vast scale, just what one sees from a +lonely boat looking forward over a following sea. + +The trough of the wave was a shallow purple valley, its arid quality +hidden by the kindly glimmer of evening; few trees stood in it to +break its sweep, and its irregularities and mouldings were just those +of a sweep of water after a gale. The crest of the wave beyond was +seventeen miles away. It had, as have also such crests at sea, one +highest, toppling peak in its long line, and this, against the clear +sky, one could see to be marked by buildings. These buildings were the +ruined castle and walls of Radicofani, and it lay straight on my way +to Rome. + +It is a strange thing, arresting northern eyes, to see towns thus +built on summits up into the sky, and this height seemed the more +fantastic because it was framed. A row of cypress trees stood on +either side of the road where it fell from San Quirico, and, exactly +between these, this high crest, a long way off, was set as though by +design. + +With more heart in me, and tempted by such an outline as one might be +by the prospect of adventure, I set out to cross the great bare run of +the valley. As I went, the mountain of Amiato came more and more +nearly abreast of me in the west; in its foothills near me were +ravines and unexpected rocks; upon one of them hung a village. I +watched its church and one tall cypress next it, as they stood black +against the last of daylight. Then for miles I went on the dusty way, +and crossed by old bridges watercourses in which stood nothing but +green pools; and the night deepened. + +It was when I had crossed the greater part of the obscure plain, at +its lowest dip and not far from the climb up to Radicofani, that I saw +lights shining in a large farmhouse, and though it was my business to +walk by night, yet I needed companionship, so I went in. + +There in a very large room, floored with brick and lit by one candle, +were two fine old peasants, with faces like apostles, playing a game +of cards. There also was a woman playing with a strong boy child, +that could not yet talk: and the child ran up to me. Nothing could +persuade the master of the house but that I was a very poor man who +needed sleep, and so good and generous was this old man that my +protests seemed to him nothing but the excuses and shame of poverty. +He asked me where I was going. I said, 'To Rome.' He came out with a +lantern to the stable, and showed me there a manger full of hay, +indicating that I might sleep in it... His candle flashed upon the +great silent oxen standing in rows; their enormous horns, three times +the length of what we know in England, filled me with wonder ... Well! +(may it count to me as gain!), rather than seem to offend him I lay +down in that manger, though I had no more desire to sleep than has the +flittermouse in our Sussex gloamings; also I was careful to offer no +money, for that is brutality. When he had left me I took the +opportunity for a little rest, and lay on my back in the hay +wide-awake and staring at darkness. + +The great oxen champed and champed their food with a regular sound; I +remembered the steerage in a liner, the noise of the sea and the +regular screw, for this it exactly resembled. I considered in the +darkness the noble aspect of these beasts as I had seen them in the +lantern light, and I determined when I got to Rome to buy two such +horns, and to bring them to England and have them mounted for drinking +horns--great drinking horns, a yard deep--and to get an engraver to +engrave a motto for each. On the first I would have-- + + King Alfred was in Wantage born + He drank out of a ram's horn. + Here is a better man than he, + Who drinks deeper, as you see. + +Thus my friends drinking out of it should lift up their hearts and no +longer be oppressed with humility. But on the second I determined for +a rousing Latin thing, such as men shouted round camp fires in the +year 888 or thereabouts; so, the imagination fairly set going and +taking wood-cock's flight, snipe-fashion, zigzag and devil-may-care- +for-the-rules, this seemed to suit me-- + + _Salve, cornu cornuum! + Cornutorum vis Boum. + Munus excellent Deum! + Gregis o praesidium! + Sitis desiderium! + Dignum cornuum cornu + Romae memor salve tu! + Tibi cornuum cornuto--_ + +LECTOR. That means nothing. + +AUCTOR. Shut up! + + _Tibi cornuum cornuto + Tibi clamo, te saluto + Salve cornu cornuum! + Fortunatam da Domunt!_ + +And after this cogitation and musing I got up quietly, so as not to +offend the peasant: and I crept out, and so upwards on to the crest of +the hill. + +But when, after several miles of climbing, I neared the summit, it was +already beginning to be light. The bareness and desert grey of the +distance I had crossed stood revealed in a colourless dawn, only the +Mont' Amiata, now somewhat to the northward, was more gentle, and +softened the scene with distant woods. Between it and this height ran +a vague river-bed as dry as the stones of a salt beach. + +The sun rose as I passed under the ruined walls of the castle. In the +little town itself, early as was the hour, many people were stirring. +One gave me good-morning--a man of singular character, for here, in +the very peep of day, he was sitting on a doorstep, idle, lazy and +contented, as though it was full noon. Another was yoking oxen; a +third going out singing to work in the fields. + +I did not linger in this crow's nest, but going out by the low and +aged southern gate, another deeper valley, even drier and more dead +than the last, appeared under the rising sun. It was enough to make +one despair! And when I thought of the day's sleep in that wilderness, +of the next night's toil through it-- + +LECTOR. What about the Brigand of Radicofani of whom you spoke in +Lorraine, and of whom I am waiting to hear? + +AUCTOR. What about him? Why, he was captured long ago, and has since +died of old age. I am surprised at your interrupting me with such +questions. Pray ask for no more tales till we get to the really +absorbing story of the Hungry Student. + +Well, as I was saying, I was in some despair at the sight of that +valley, which had to be crossed before I could reach the town of +Acquapendente, or Hanging-water, which I knew to lie somewhere on the +hills beyond. The sun was conquering me, and I was looking hopelessly +for a place to sleep, when a cart drawn by two oxen at about one mile +an hour came creaking by. The driver was asleep, his head on the shady +side. The devil tempted me, and without one struggle against +temptation, nay with cynical and congratulatory feelings, I jumped up +behind, and putting my head also on the shady side (there were soft +sacks for a bed) I very soon was pleasantly asleep. + +We lay side by side for hour after hour, and the day rose on to noon; +the sun beat upon our feet, but our heads were in the shade and we +slept heavily a good and honest sleep: he thinking that he was alone, +but I knowing that I was in company (a far preferable thing), and I +was right and he was wrong. And the heat grew, and sleep came out of +that hot sun more surely than it does out of the night air in the +north. But no dreams wander under the noon. + +From time to time one or the other of us would open our eyes drowsily +and wonder, but sleep was heavy on us both, and our minds were sunk in +calm like old hulls in the dark depths of the sea where there are no +storms. + +We neither of us really woke until, at the bottom of the hill which +rises into Acquapendente, the oxen stopped. This halt woke us up; +first me and then my companion. He looked at me a moment and laughed. +He seemed to have thought all this while that I was some country +friend of his who had taken a lift; and I, for my part, had made more +or less certain that he was a good fellow who would do me no harm. I +was right, and he was wrong. I knew not what offering to make him to +compensate him for this trouble which his heavy oxen had taken. After +some thought I brought a cigar out of my pocket, which he smoked with +extreme pleasure. The oxen meanwhile had been urged up the slow hill, +and it was in this way that we reached the famous town of +Acquapendente. But why it should be called famous is more than I can +understand. It may be that in one of those narrow streets there is a +picture or a church, or one of those things which so attract +unbelieving men. To the pilgrim it is simply a group of houses. Into +one of these I went, and, upon my soul, I have nothing to say of it +except that they furnished me with food. + +I do not pretend to have counted the flies, though they were numerous; +and, even had I done so, what interest would the number have, save to +the statisticians? Now as these are patient men and foolish, I +heartily recommend them to go and count the flies for themselves. + +Leaving this meal then, this town and this people (which were all of a +humdrum sort), and going out by the gate, the left side of which is +made up of a church, I went a little way on the short road to San +Lorenzo, but I had no intention of going far, for (as you know by this +time) the night had become my day and the day my night. + +I found a stream running very sluggish between tall trees, and this +sight sufficiently reminded me of my own country to permit repose. +Lying down there I slept till the end of the day, or rather to that +same time of evening which had now become my usual waking hour ... And +now tell me, Lector, shall I leave out altogether, or shall I give you +some description of, the next few miles to San Lorenzo? + +LECTOR. Why, if I were you I would put the matter shortly and simply, +for it is the business of one describing a pilgrimage or any other +matter not to puff himself up with vain conceit, nor to be always +picking about for picturesque situations, but to set down plainly and +shortly what he has seen and heard, describing the whole matter. + +AUCTOR. But remember, Lector, that the artist is known not only by +what he puts in but by what he leaves out. + +LECTOR. That is all very well for the artist, but you have no business +to meddle with such people. + +AUCTOR. How then would you write such a book if you had the writing of +it? + +LECTOR. I would not introduce myself at all; I would not tell stories +at random, nor go in for long descriptions of emotions, which I am +sure other men have felt as well as I. I would be careful to visit +those things my readers had already heard of (AUCTOR. The pictures! +the remarkable pictures! All that is meant by culture! The brown +photographs! Oh! Lector, indeed I have done you a wrong!), and I would +certainly not have the bad taste to say anything upon religion. Above +all, I would be terse. + +AUCTOR. I see. You would not pile words one on the other, qualifying, +exaggerating, conditioning, superlativing, diminishing, connecting, +amplifying, condensing, mouthing, and glorifying the mere sound: you +would be terse. You should be known for your self-restraint. There +should be no verbosity in your style (God forbid!), still less +pomposity, animosity, curiosity, or ferocity; you would have it neat, +exact, and scholarly, and, above all, chiselled to the nail. A fig +(say you), the pip of a fig, for the rambling style. You would be led +into no hilarity, charity, vulgarity, or barbarity. Eh! my jolly +Lector? You would simply say what you had to say? + +LECTOR. Precisely; I would say a plain thing in a plain way. + +AUCTOR. So you think one can say a plain thing in a plain way? You +think that words mean nothing more than themselves, and that you can +talk without ellipsis, and that customary phrases have not their +connotations? You think that, do you? Listen then to the tale of Mr +Benjamin Franklin Hard, a kindly merchant of Cincinnati, O., who had +no particular religion, but who had accumulated a fortune of six +hundred thousand dollars, and who had a horror of breaking the +Sabbath. He was not 'a kind husband and a good father,' for he was +unmarried; nor had he any children. But he was all that those words +connote. + +This man Hard at the age of fifty-four retired from business, and +determined to treat himself to a visit to Europe. He had not been in +Europe five weeks before he ran bang up against the Catholic Church. +He was never more surprised in his life. I do not mean that I have +exactly weighed all his surprises all his life through. I mean that he +was very much surprised indeed--and that is all that these words +connote. + +He studied the Catholic Church with extreme interest. He watched High +Mass at several places (hoping it might be different). He thought it +was what it was not, and then, contrariwise, he thought it was not +what it was. He talked to poor Catholics, rich Catholics, middle-class +Catholics, and elusive, wellborn, penniless, neatly dressed, +successful Catholics; also to pompous, vain Catholics; humble, +uncertain Catholics; sneaking, pad-footed Catholics; healthy, howling, +combative Catholics; doubtful, shoulder-shrugging, but devout +Catholics; fixed, crabbed, and dangerous Catholics; easy, jovial, and +shone-upon-by-the-heavenly-light Catholics; subtle Catholics; strange +Catholics, and _(quod tibi manifeste absurdum videtur)_ intellectual, +_pince-nez,_ jejune, twisted, analytical, yellow, cranky, and +introspective Catholics: in fine, he talked to all Catholics. And +when I say 'all Catholics' I do not mean that he talked to every +individual Catholic, but that he got a good, integrative grip of the +Church militant, which is all that the words connote. + +Well, this man Hard got to know, among others, a certain good priest +that loved a good bottle of wine, a fine deep dish of_ poulet a la +casserole, _and a kind of egg done with cream in a little platter; and +eating such things, this priest said to him one day: 'Mr Hard, what +you want is to read some books on Catholicism.' And Hard, who was on +the point of being received into the Church as the final solution of +human difficulties, thought it would be a very good thing to instruct +his mind before baptism. So he gave the priest a note to a bookseller +whom an American friend had told him of; and this American friend had +said: + +'You will find Mr Fingle (for such was the bookseller's name) a +hard-headed, honest, business man. He can say a _plain thing in a +plain way.'_ + +'Here,' said Mr Hard to the priest, 'is ten pounds. Send it to this +bookseller Fingle and he shall choose books on Catholicism to that +amount, and you shall receive them, and I will come and read them here +with you.' + +So the priest sent the money, and in four days the books came, and Mr +Hard and the priest opened the package, and these were the books +inside: + +_Auricular Confession:_ a History. By a Brand Saved from the Burning. + +_Isabella; or, The Little Female Jesuit._ By 'Hephzibah'. + +_Elisha MacNab:_ a Tale of the French Huguenots. + +_England and Rome._ By the Rev. Ebenezer Catchpole of Emmanuel, +Birmingham. + +_Nuns and Nunneries._ By 'Ruth', with a Preface by Miss Carran, lately +rescued from a Canadian Convent. + +_History of the Inquisition._ By Llorente. + +_The Beast with Seven Heads; or, the Apocalyptical Warning._ + +_No Truce with the Vatican._ + +_The True Cause of Irish Disaffection._ + +_Decline of the Latin Nations._ + +_Anglo-Saxons the Chosen Race,_ and their connexion with the Ten Lost +Tribes: with a map. + +Finally, a very large book at the bottom of the case called _Giant +Pope._ + +And it was no use asking for the money back or protesting. Mr Fingle +was an honest, straightforward man, who said a plain thing in a plain +way. They had left him to choose a suitable collection of books on +Catholicism, and he had chosen the best he knew. And thus did Mr Hard +(who has recently given a hideous font to the new Catholic church at +Bismarckville) learn the importance of estimating what words connote. + +LECTOR. But all that does not excuse an intolerable prolixity? + +AUCTOR. Neither did I say it did, dear Lector. My object was merely to +get you to San Lorenzo where I bought that wine, and where, going out +of the gate on the south, I saw suddenly the wide lake of Bolsena all +below. + +It is a great sheet like a sea; but as one knows one is on a high +plateau, and as there is but a short dip down to it; as it is round +and has all about it a rim of low even hills, therefore one knows it +for an old and gigantic crater now full of pure water; and there are +islands in it and palaces on the islands. Indeed it was an impression +of silence and recollection, for the water lay all upturned to heaven, +and, in the sky above me, the moon at her quarter hung still pale in +the daylight, waiting for glory. + +I sat on the coping of a wall, drank a little of my wine, ate a little +bread and sausage; but still song demanded some outlet in the cool +evening, and companionship was more of an appetite in me than +landscape. Please God, I had become southern and took beauty for +granted. + +Anyhow, seeing a little two-wheeled cart come through the gate, +harnessed to a ramshackle little pony, bony and hard, and driven by a +little, brown, smiling, and contented old fellow with black hair, I +made a sign to him and he stopped. + +This time there was no temptation of the devil; if anything the +advance was from my side. I was determined to ride, and I sprang up +beside the driver. We raced down the hill, clattering and banging and +rattling like a piece of ordnance, and he, my brother, unasked began +to sing. I sang in turn. He sang of Italy, I of four countries: +America, France, England, and Ireland. I could not understand his +songs nor he mine, but there was wine in common between us, and +_salami_ and a merry heart, bread which is the bond of all mankind, +and that prime solution of ill-ease--I mean the forgetfulness of +money. + +That was a good drive, an honest drive, a human aspiring drive, a +drive of Christians, a glorifying and uplifted drive, a drive worthy +of remembrance for ever. The moon has shone on but few like it though +she is old; the lake of Bolsena has glittered beneath none like it +since the Etruscans here unbended after the solemnities of a triumph. +It broke my vow to pieces; there was not a shadow of excuse for this +use of wheels: it was done openly and wantonly in the face of the wide +sky for pleasure. And what is there else but pleasure, and to what +else does beauty move on? Not I hope to contemplation! A hideous +oriental trick! No, but to loud notes and comradeship and the riot of +galloping, and laughter ringing through old trees. Who would change +(says Aristippus of Pslinthon) the moon and all the stars for so much +wine as can be held in the cup of a bottle upturned? The honest man! +And in his time (note you) they did not make the devilish deep and +fraudulent bottoms they do now that cheat you of half your liquor. + +Moreover if I broke my vows (which is a serious matter), and if I +neglected to contemplate the heavens (for which neglect I will confess +to no one, not even to a postulate sub-deacon; it is no sin; it is a +healthy omission), if (I say) I did this, I did what peasants do. And +what is more, by drinking wine and eating pig we proved ourselves no +Mohammedans; and on such as he is sure of, St Peter looks with a +kindly eye. + +Now, just at the very entry to Bolsena, when we had followed the +lovely lake some time, my driver halted and began to turn up a lane to +a farm or villa; so I, bidding him good-night, crossed a field and +stood silent by the lake and watched for a long time the water +breaking on a tiny shore, and the pretty miniatures of waves. I stood +there till the stars came out and the moon shone fully; then I went +towards Bolsena under its high gate which showed in the darkness, and +under its castle on the rock. There, in a large room which was not +quite an inn, a woman of great age and dignity served me with fried +fish from the lake, and the men gathered round me and attempted to +tell me of the road to Rome, while I in exchange made out to them as +much by gestures as by broken words the crossing of the Alps and the +Apennines. + +Then, after my meal, one of the men told me I needed sleep; that there +were no rooms in that house (as I said, it was not an inn), but that +across the way he would show me one he had for hire. I tried to say +that my plan was to walk by night. They all assured me he would charge +me a reasonable sum. I insisted that the day was too hot for walking. +They told me, did these Etruscans, that I need fear no extortion from +so honest a man. + +Certainly it is not easy to make everybody understand everything, and +I had had experience already up in the mountains, days before, of how +important it is not to be misunderstood when one is wandering in a +foreign country, poor and ill-clad. I therefore accepted the offer, +and, what was really very much to my regret, I paid the money he +demanded. I even so far fell in with the spirit of the thing as to +sleep a certain number of hours (for after all, my sleep that day in +the cart had been very broken, and instead of resting throughout the +whole of the heat I had taken a meal at Acquapendente). But I woke up +not long after midnight--perhaps between one and two o'clock--and went +out along the borders of the lake. + +The moon had set; I wish I could have seen her hanging at the quarter +in the clear sky of that high crater, dipping into the rim of its +inland sea. It was perceptibly cold. I went on the road quite slowly, +till it began to climb, and when the day broke I found myself in a +sunken lane leading up to the town of Montefiascone. + +The town lay on its hill in the pale but growing light. A great dome +gave it dignity, and a castle overlooked the lake. It was built upon +the very edge and lip of the volcano-cup commanding either side. + +I climbed up this sunken lane towards it, not knowing what might be +beyond, when, at the crest, there shone before me in the sunrise one +of those unexpected and united landscapes which are among the glories +of Italy. They have changed the very mind in a hundred northern +painters, when men travelled hither to Rome to learn their art, and +coming in by her mountain roads saw, time and again, the set views of +plains like gardens, surrounded by sharp mountain-land and framed. + +The road did not pass through the town; the grand though crumbling +gate of entry lay up a short straight way to the right, and below, +where the road continued down the slope, was a level of some eight +miles full of trees diminishing in distance. At its further side an +ample mountain, wooded, of gentle flattened outline, but high and +majestic, barred the way to Rome. It was yet another of those +volcanoes, fruitful after death, which are the mark of Latium: and it +held hidden, as did that larger and more confused one on the rim of +which I stood, a lake in its silent crater. But that lake, as I was to +find, was far smaller than the glittering sea of Bolsena, whose shores +now lay behind me. + +The distance and the hill that bounded it should in that climate have +stood clear in the pure air, but it was yet so early that a thin haze +hung over the earth, and the sun had not yet controlled it: it was +even chilly. I could not catch the towers of Viterbo, though I knew +them to stand at the foot of the far mountain. I went down the road, +and in half-an-hour or so was engaged upon the straight line crossing +the plain. + +I wondered a little how the road would lie with regard to the town, +and looked at my map for guidance, but it told me little. It was too +general, taking in all central Italy, and even large places were +marked only by small circles. + +When I approached Viterbo I first saw an astonishing wall, +perpendicular to my road, untouched, the bones of the Middle Ages. It +stood up straight before one like a range of cliffs, seeming much +higher than it should; its hundred feet or so were exaggerated by the +severity of its stones and by their sheer fall. For they had no +ornament whatever, and few marks of decay, though many of age. Tall +towers, exactly square and equally bare of carving or machicolation, +stood at intervals along this forbidding defence and flanked its +curtain. Then nearer by, one saw that it was not a huge castle, but +the wall of a city, for at a corner it went sharp round to contain the +town, and through one uneven place I saw houses. Many men were walking +in the roads alongside these walls, and there were gates pierced in +them whereby the citizens went in and out of the city as bees go in +and out of the little opening in a hive. + +But my main road to Rome did not go through Viterbo, it ran alongside +of the eastern wall, and I debated a little with myself whether I +would go in or no. It was out of my way, and I had not entered +Montefiascone for that reason. On the other hand, Viterbo was a famous +place. It is all very well to neglect Florence and Pisa because they +are some miles off the straight way, but Viterbo right under one's +hand it is a pity to miss. Then I needed wine and food for the later +day in the mountain. Yet, again, it was getting hot. It was past +eight, the mist had long ago receded, and I feared delay. So I mused +on the white road under the tall towers and dead walls of Viterbo, and +ruminated on an unimportant thing. Then curiosity did what reason +could not do, and I entered by a gate. + +The streets were narrow, tortuous, and alive, all shaded by the great +houses, and still full of the cold of the night. The noise of +fountains echoed in them, and the high voices of women and the cries +of sellers. Every house had in it something fantastic and peculiar; +humanity had twined into this place like a natural growth, and the +separate thoughts of men, both those that were alive there and those +dead before them, had decorated it all. There were courtyards with +blinding whites of sunlit walls above, themselves in shadow; and there +were many carvings and paintings over doors. I had come into a great +living place after the loneliness of the road. + +There, in the first wide street I could find, I bought sausage and +bread and a great bottle of wine, and then quitting Viterbo, I left it +by the same gate and took the road. + +For a long while yet I continued under the walls, noting in one place +a thing peculiar to the Middle Ages, I mean the apse of a church built +right into the wall as the old Cathedral of St Stephen's was in Paris. +These, I suppose, enemies respected if they could; for I have noticed +also that in castles the chapel is not hidden, but stands out from the +wall. So be it. Your fathers and mine were there in the fighting, but +we do not know their names, and I trust and hope yours spared the +altars as carefully as mine did. + +The road began to climb the hill, and though the heat increased--for +in Italy long before nine it is glaring noon to us northerners (and +that reminds me: your fathers and mine, to whom allusion has been made +above {as they say in the dull history books--[LECTOR. How many more +interior brackets are we to have? Is this algebra? AUCTOR. You +yourself, Lector, are responsible for the worst.]} your fathers and +mine coming down into this country to fight, as was their annual +custom, must have had a plaguy time of it, when you think that they +could not get across the Alps till summer-time, and then had to hack +and hew, and thrust and dig, and slash and climb, and charge and puff, +and blow and swear, and parry and receive, and aim and dodge, and butt +and run for their lives at the end, under an unaccustomed sun. No +wonder they saw visions, the dear people! They are dead now, and we do +not even know their names.)--Where was I? + +LECTOR. You were at the uninteresting remark that the heat was +increasing. + +AUCTOR. Precisely. I remember. Well, the heat was increasing, but it +seemed far more bearable than it had been in the earlier places; in +the oven of the Garfagnana or in the deserts of Siena. For with the +first slopes of the mountain a forest of great chestnut trees +appeared, and it was so cool under these that there was even moss, as +though I were back again in my own country where there are full rivers +in summer-time, deep meadows, and all the completion of home. + +Also the height may have begun to tell on the air, but not much, for +when the forest was behind me, and when I had come to a bare heath +sloping more gently upwards--a glacis in front of the topmost bulwark +of the round mountain--- I was oppressed with thirst, and though it +was not too hot to sing (for I sang, and two lonely carabinieri passed +me singing, and we recognized as we saluted each other that the +mountain was full of songs), yet I longed for a bench, a flagon, and +shade. + +And as I longed, a little house appeared, and a woman in the shade +sewing, and an old man. Also a bench and a table, and a tree over it. +There I sat down and drank white wine and water many times. The woman +charged me a halfpenny, and the old man would not talk. He did not +take his old age garrulously. It was his business, not mine; but I +should dearly have liked to have talked to him in Lingua Franca, and +to have heard him on the story of his mountain: where it was haunted, +by what, and on which nights it was dangerous to be abroad. Such as it +was, there it was. I left them, and shall perhaps never see them +again. + +The road was interminable, and the crest, from which I promised myself +the view of the crater-lake, was always just before me, and was never +reached. A little spring, caught in a hollow log, refreshed a meadow +on the right. Drinking there again, I wondered if I should go on or +rest; but I was full of antiquity, and a memory in the blood, or what +not, impelled me to see the lake in the crater before I went to sleep: +after a few hundred yards this obsession was satisfied. + +I passed between two banks, where the road had been worn down at the +crest of the volcano's rim; then at once, far below, in a circle of +silent trees with here and there a vague shore of marshy land, I saw +the Pond of Venus: some miles of brooding water, darkened by the dark +slopes around it. Its darkness recalled the dark time before the dawn +of our saved and happy world. + +At its hither end a hill, that had once been a cone in the crater, +stood out all covered with a dense wood. It was the Hill of Venus. + +There was no temple, nor no sacrifice, nor no ritual for the Divinity, +save this solemn attitude of perennial silence; but under the +influence which still remained and gave the place its savour, it was +impossible to believe that the gods were dead. There were no men in +that hollow; nor was there any memory of men, save of men dead these +thousands of years. There was no life of visible things. The mind +released itself and was in touch with whatever survives of conquered +but immortal Spirits. + +Thus ready for worship, and in a mood of adoration; filled also with +the genius which inhabits its native place and is too subtle or too +pure to suffer the effect of time, I passed down the ridge-way of the +mountain rim, and came to the edge overlooking that arena whereon was +first fought out and decided the chief destiny of the world. + +For all below was the Campagna. Names that are at the origin of things +attached to every cleft and distant rock beyond the spreading level, +or sanctified the gleams of rivers. There below me was Veii; beyond, +in the Wall of the Apennines, only just escaped from clouds, was Tibur +that dignified the ravine at the edge of their rising; that crest to +the right was Tusculum, and far to the south, but clear, on a mountain +answering my own, was the mother of the City, Alba Longa. The Tiber, a +dense, brown fog rolling over and concealing it, was the god of the +wide plain. + +There and at that moment I should have seen the City. I stood up on +the bank and shaded my eyes, straining to catch the dome at least in +the sunlight; but I could not, for Rome was hidden by the low Sabinian +hills. + +Soracte I saw there--Soracte, of which I had read as a boy. It stood +up like an acropolis, but it was a citadel for no city. It stood +alone, like that soul which once haunted its recesses and prophesied +the conquering advent of the northern kings. I saw the fields where +the tribes had lived that were the first enemies of the imperfect +state, before it gave its name to the fortunes of the Latin race. + +Dark Etruria lay behind me, forgotten in the backward of my march: a +furnace and a riddle out of which religion came to the Romans--a place +that has left no language. But below me, sunlit and easy (as it seemed +in the cooler air of that summit), was the arena upon which were first +fought out the chief destinies of the world. + +And I still looked down upon it, wondering. + +Was it in so small a space that all the legends of one's childhood +were acted? Was the defence of the bridge against so neighbouring and +petty an alliance? Were they peasants of a group of huts that handed +down the great inheritance of discipline, and made an iron channel +whereby, even to us, the antique virtues could descend as a living +memory? It must be so; for the villages and ruins in one landscape +comprised all the first generations of the history of Rome. The stones +we admire, the large spirit of the last expression came from that +rough village and sprang from the broils of that one plain; Rome was +most vigorous before it could speak. So a man's verse, and all he has, +are but the last outward appearance, late and already rigid, of an +earlier, more plastic, and diviner fire. + +'Upon this arena,' I still said to myself, 'were first fought out the +chief destinies of the world'; and so, played upon by an unending +theme, I ate and drank in a reverie, still wondering, and then lay +down beneath the shade of a little tree that stood alone upon that +edge of a new world. And wondering, I fell asleep under the morning +sun. + +But this sleep was not like the earlier oblivions that had refreshed +my ceaseless journey, for I still dreamt as I slept of what I was to +see, and visions of action without thought--pageants and +mysteries--surrounded my spirit; and across the darkness of a mind +remote from the senses there passed whatever is wrapped up in the +great name of Rome. + +When I woke the evening had come. A haze had gathered upon the plain. +The road fell into Ronciglione, and dreams surrounded it upon every +side. For the energy of the body those hours of rest had made a fresh +and enduring vigour; for the soul no rest was needed. It had attained, +at least for the next hour, a vigour that demanded only the physical +capacity of endurance; an eagerness worthy of such great occasions +found a marching vigour for its servant. + +In Ronciglione I saw the things that Turner drew; I mean the rocks +from which a river springs, and houses all massed together, giving the +steep a kind of crown. This also accompanied that picture, the soft +light which mourns the sun and lends half-colours to the world. It was +cool, and the opportunity beckoned. I ate and drank, asking every one +questions of Rome, and I passed under their great gate and pursued the +road to the plain. In the mist, as it rose, there rose also a passion +to achieve. + +All the night long, mile after mile, I hurried along the Cassian Way. +For five days I had slept through the heat, and the southern night had +become my daytime; and though the mist was dense, and though the moon, +now past her quarter, only made a vague place in heaven, yet +expectation and fancy took more than the place of sight. In this fog I +felt with every step of the night march the approach to the goal. + +Long past the place I had marked as a halt, long past Sette Vene, a +light blurred upon the white wreaths of vapour; distant songs and the +noise of men feasting ended what had been for many, many hours--for +more than twenty miles of pressing forward--an exaltation worthy of +the influence that bred it. Then came on me again, after the full +march, a necessity for food and for repose. But these things, which +have been the matter of so much in this book, now seemed subservient +only to the reaching of an end; they were left aside in the mind. + +It was an inn with trellis outside making an arbour. In the yard +before it many peasants sat at table; their beasts and waggons stood +in the roadway, though, at this late hour, men were feeding some and +housing others. Within, fifty men or more were making a meal or a +carousal. + +What feast or what necessity of travel made them keep the night alive +I neither knew nor asked; but passing almost unobserved amongst them +between the long tables, I took my place at the end, and the master +served me with good food and wine. As I ate the clamour of the +peasants sounded about me, and I mixed with the energy of numbers. + +With a little difficulty I made the master understand that I wished to +sleep till dawn. He led me out to a small granary (for the house was +full), and showed me where I should sleep in the scented hay. He would +take no money for such a lodging, and left me after showing me how the +door latched and unfastened; and out of so many men, he was the last +man whom I thanked for a service until I passed the gates of Rome. + +Above the soft bed which the hay made, a square window, unglazed, gave +upon the southern night; the mist hardly drifted in or past it, so +still was the air. I watched it for a while drowsily; then sleep again +fell on me. + +But as I slept, Rome, Rome still beckoned me, and I woke in a +struggling light as though at a voice calling, and slipping out I +could not but go on to the end. + +The small square paving of the Via Cassia, all even like a palace +floor, rang under my steps. The parched banks and strips of dry fields +showed through the fog (for its dampness did not cure the arid soil of +the Campagna). The sun rose and the vapour lifted. Then, indeed, I +peered through the thick air--but still I could see nothing of my +goal, only confused folds of brown earth and burnt-up grasses, and +farther off rare and un-northern trees. + +I passed an old tower of the Middle Ages that was eaten away at its +base by time or the quarrying of men; I passed a divergent way on the +right where a wooden sign said 'The Triumphal Way', and I wondered +whether it could be the road where ritual had once ordained that +triumphs should go. It seemed lonely and lost, and divorced from any +approach to sacred hills. + +The road fell into a hollow where soldiers were manoeuvring. Even +these could not arrest an attention that was fixed upon the +approaching revelation. The road climbed a little slope where a branch +went off to the left, and where there was a house and an arbour under +vines. It was now warm day; trees of great height stood shading the +sun; the place had taken on an appearance of wealth and care. The mist +had gone before I reached the summit of the rise. + +There, from the summit, between the high villa walls on either +side--at my very feet I saw the City. + +And now all you people whatsoever that are presently reading, may have +read, or shall in the future read, this my many-sided but now-ending +book; all you also that in the mysterious designs of Providence may +not be fated to read it for some very long time to come; you then I +say, entire, englobed, and universal race of men both in gross and +regardant, not only living and seeing the sunlight, but dead also +under the earth; shades, or to come in procession afterwards out of +the dark places into the day for a little, swarms of you, an army +without end; all you black and white, red, yellow and brown, men, +women, children and poets--all of you, wherever you are now, or have +been, or shall be in your myriads and deka myriads and hendeka +myriads, the time has come when I must bid you farewell-- + + _Ludisti satis, edisti satis, atque bibisti; + Tempus abire tibi est...._ + +Only Lector I keep by me for a very little while longer with a special +purpose, but even he must soon leave me; for all good things come to +an end, and this book is coming to an end--has come to an end. The +leaves fall, and they are renewed; the sun sets on the Vexin hills, +but he rises again over the woods of Marly. Human companionship once +broken can never be restored, and you and I shall not meet or +understand each other again. It is so of all the poor links whereby we +try to bridge the impassable gulf between soul and soul. Oh! we spin +something, I know, but it is very gossamer, thin and strained, and +even if it does not snap time will at last dissolve it. + +Indeed, there is a song on it which you should know, and which runs-- + +[Bar of music] + +So my little human race, both you that have read this book and you +that have not, good-bye in charity. I loved you all as I wrote. Did +you all love me as much as I have loved you, by the black stone of +Rennes I should be rich by now. Indeed, indeed, I have loved you all! +You, the workers, all puffed up and dyspeptic and ready for the +asylums; and you, the good-for-nothing lazy drones; you, the strong +silent men, who have heads quite empty, like gourds; and you also, the +frivolous, useless men that chatter and gabble to no purpose all day +long. Even you, that, having begun to read this book, could get no +further than page 47, and especially you who have read it manfully in +spite of the flesh, I love you all, and give you here and now my +final, complete, full, absolving, and comfortable benediction. + +To tell the truth, I have noticed one little fault about you. I will +not call it fatuous, inane, and exasperating vanity or self- +absorption; I will put it in the form of a parable. Sit you round +attentively and listen, dispersing yourselves all in order, and do not +crowd or jostle. + +Once, before we humans became the good and self-respecting people we +are, the Padre Eterno was sitting in heaven with St Michael beside +him, and He watched the abyss from His great throne, and saw shining +in the void one far point of light amid some seventeen million others, +and He said: + +'What is that?' + +And St Michael answered: + +'That is the Earth,' for he felt some pride in it. + +'The Earth?' said the Padre Eterno, a little puzzled . . . 'The Earth? +...?... I do not remember very exactly . . .' + +'Why,' answered St Michael, with as much reverence as his annoyance +could command, 'surely you must recollect the Earth and all the pother +there was in heaven when it was first suggested to create it, and all +about Lucifer--' + +'Ah!' said the Padre Eterno, thinking twice, 'yes. It is attached to +Sirius, and--' + +'No, no,' said St Michael, quite visibly put out. 'It is the Earth. +The Earth which has that changing moon and the thing called the sea.' + +'Of course, of course,' answered the Padre Eterno quickly, 'I said +Sirius by a slip of the tongue. Dear me! So that is the Earth! Well, +well! It is years ago now ... Michael, what are those little things +swarming up and down all over it?' + +'Those,' said St Michael, 'are Men.' + +'Men?' said the Padre Eterno, 'Men ... I know the word as well as any +one, but somehow the connexion escapes me. Men ...' and He mused. + +St Michael, with perfect self-restraint, said a few things a trifle +staccato, defining Man, his dual destiny, his hope of heaven, and all +the great business in which he himself had fought hard. But from a +fine military tradition, he said nothing of his actions, nor even of +his shrine in Normandy, of which he is naturally extremely proud: and +well he may be. What a hill! + +'I really beg your pardon,' said the Padre Eterno, when he saw the +importance attached to these little creatures. 'I am sure they are +worthy of the very fullest attention, and' (he added, for he was sorry +to have offended) 'how sensible they seem, Michael! There they go, +buying and selling, and sailing, driving, and wiving, and riding, and +dancing, and singing, and the rest of it; indeed, they are most +practical, business-like, and satisfactory little beings. But I notice +one odd thing. Here and there are some not doing as the rest, or +attending to their business, but throwing themselves into all manner +of attitudes, making the most extraordinary sounds, and clothing +themselves in the quaintest of garments. What is the meaning of that?' + +'Sire!' cried St Michael, in a voice that shook the architraves of +heaven, 'they are worshipping You!' + +'Oh! they are worshipping _me!_ Well, that is the most sensible thing +I have heard of them yet, and I altogether commend them. _Continuez,'_ +said the Padre Eterno, _'continuez!'_ + +And since then all has been well with the world; at least where _Us +continuent._ + +And so, carissimi, multitudes, all of you good-bye; the day has long +dawned on the Via Cassia, this dense mist has risen, the city is +before me, and I am on the threshold of a great experience; I would +rather be alone. Good-bye my readers; good-bye the world. + +At the foot of the hill I prepared to enter the city, and I lifted up +my heart. + +There was an open space; a tramway: a tram upon it about to be drawn +by two lean and tired horses whom in the heat many flies disturbed. +There was dust on everything around. + +A bridge was immediately in front. It was adorned with statues in soft +stone, half-eaten away, but still gesticulating in corruption, after +the manner of the seventeenth century. Beneath the bridge there +tumbled and swelled and ran fast a great confusion of yellow water: it +was the Tiber. Far on the right were white barracks of huge and of +hideous appearance; over these the Dome of St Peter's rose and looked +like something newly built. It was of a delicate blue, but made a +metallic contrast against the sky. + +Then (along a road perfectly straight and bounded by factories, mean +houses and distempered walls: a road littered with many scraps of +paper, bones, dirt, and refuse) I went on for several hundred yards, +having the old wall of Rome before me all this time, till I came right +under it at last; and with the hesitation that befits all great +actions I entered, putting the right foot first lest I should bring +further misfortune upon that capital of all our fortunes. + +And so the journey ended. + +It was the Gate of the Poplar--not of the People. (Ho, Pedant! Did you +think I missed you, hiding and lurking there?) Many churches were to +hand; I took the most immediate, which stood just within the wall and +was called Our Lady of the People--(not 'of the Poplar'. Another fall +for the learned! Professor, things go ill with you to-day!). Inside +were many fine pictures, not in the niminy-piminy manner, but strong, +full-coloured, and just. + +To my chagrin, Mass was ending. I approached a priest and said to him: + +_'Pater, quando vel a quella hora e la prossimma Missa?'_ + +_'Ad nonas,'_ said he. + +_'Pol! Hercle!'_ (thought I), 'I have yet twenty minutes to wait! +Well, as a pilgrimage cannot be said to be over till the first Mass is +heard in Rome, I have twenty minutes to add to my book.' + +So, passing an Egyptian obelisk which the great Augustus had nobly +dedicated to the Sun, I entered.... + +LECTOR. But do you intend to tell us nothing of Rome? + +AUCTOR. Nothing, dear Lector. + +LECTOR. Tell me at least one thing; did you see the Coliseum? + +AUCTOR. ... I entered a cafe at the right hand of a very long, +straight street, called for bread, coffee, and brandy, and +contemplating my books and worshipping my staff that had been friends +of mine so long, and friends like all true friends inanimate, I spent +the few minutes remaining to my happy, common, unshriven, exterior, +and natural life, in writing down this + + +DITHYRAMBIC + +EPITHALAMIUM OR THRENODY + + In these boots, and with this staff + Two hundred leaguers and a half-- + +(That means, two and a half hundred leagues. You follow? Not two +hundred and one half league.... Well--) + + Two hundred leaguers and a half + Walked I, went I, paced I, tripped I, + Marched I, held I, skelped I, slipped I, + Pushed I, panted, swung and dashed I; + Picked I, forded, swam and splashed I, + Strolled I, climbed I, crawled and scrambled, + Dropped and dipped I, ranged and rambled; + Plodded I, hobbled I, trudged and tramped I, + And in lonely spinnies camped I, + And in haunted pinewoods slept I, + Lingered, loitered, limped and crept I, + Clambered, halted, stepped and leapt I; + Slowly sauntered, roundly strode I, + +_And_ ... (Oh! Patron saints and Angels + That protect the four evangels! + And you Prophets vel majores + Vel incerti, vel minores, + Virgines ac confessores + Chief of whose peculiar glories + Est in Aula Regis stare + Atque orare et exorare + Et clamare et conclamare + Clamantes cum clamoribus + Pro nobis peccatoribus.) + +_Let me not conceal it... Rode I. _ +(For who but critics could complain +Of 'riding' in a railway train?) + _Across the valleys and the high-land, + With all the world on either hand. + Drinking when I had a mind to, + Singing when I felt inclined to; + Nor ever turned my face to home + Till I had slaked my heart at Rome._ + + +THE END AGAIN + +LECTOR. But this is dogg-- + +AUCTOR. Not a word! + +FINIS + + + + +*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK, THE PATH TO ROME *** + +This file should be named 7tptr10.txt or 7tptr10.zip +Corrected EDITIONS of our eBooks get a new NUMBER, 7tptr11.txt +VERSIONS based on separate sources get new LETTER, 7tptr10a.txt + +Project Gutenberg eBooks are often created from several printed +editions, all of which are confirmed as Public Domain in the US +unless a copyright notice is included. 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Do not change or edit the +header without written permission. + +Please read the "legal small print," and other information about the +eBook and Project Gutenberg at the bottom of this file. Included is +important information about your specific rights and restrictions in +how the file may be used. You can also find out about how to make a +donation to Project Gutenberg, and how to get involved. + + +**Welcome To The World of Free Plain Vanilla Electronic Texts** + +**eBooks Readable By Both Humans and By Computers, Since 1971** + +*****These eBooks Were Prepared By Thousands of Volunteers!***** + + +Title: The Path to Rome + +Author: Hilaire Belloc + +Release Date: January, 2005 [EBook #7373] +[This file was first posted on April 22, 2003] + +Edition: 10 + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ISO Latin-1 + +*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK, THE PATH TO ROME *** + + + + +Eric Eldred + + + +The Path to Rome + +Hilaire Belloc + + + + +'. .. AMORE ANTIQUI RITUS, ALTO SUB NUMINE ROMAE' + + + +PRAISE OF THIS BOOK + +To every honest reader that may purchase, hire, or receive this book, +and to the reviewers also (to whom it is of triple profit), +greeting--and whatever else can be had for nothing. + +If you should ask how this book came to be written, it was in this +way. One day as I was wandering over the world I came upon the valley +where I was born, and stopping there a moment to speak with them +all--when I had argued politics with the grocer, and played the great +lord with the notary-public, and had all but made the carpenter a +Christian by force of rhetoric--what should I note (after so many +years) but the old tumble-down and gaping church, that I love more +than mother-church herself, all scraped, white, rebuilt, noble, and +new, as though it had been finished yesterday. Knowing very well that +such a change had not come from the skinflint populace, but was the +work of some just artist who knew how grand an ornament was this +shrine (built there before our people stormed Jerusalem), I entered, +and there saw that all within was as new, accurate, and excellent as +the outer part; and this pleased me as much as though a fortune had +been left to us all; for one's native place is the shell of one's +soul, and one's church is the kernel of that nut. + +Moreover, saying my prayers there, I noticed behind the high altar a +statue of Our Lady, so extraordinary and so different from all I had +ever seen before, so much the spirit of my valley, that I was quite +taken out of myself and vowed a vow there to go to Rome on Pilgrimage +and see all Europe which the Christian Faith has saved; and I said, 'I +will start from the place where I served in arms for my sins; I will +walk all the way and take advantage of no wheeled thing; I will sleep +rough and cover thirty miles a day, and I will hear Mass every +morning; and I will be present at high Mass in St Peter's on the Feast +of St Peter and St Paul.' + +Then I went out of the church still having that Statue in my mind, and +I walked again farther into the world, away from my native valley, and +so ended some months after in a place whence I could fulfil my vow; +and I started as you shall hear. All my other vows I broke one by one. +For a faggot must be broken every stick singly. But the strict vow I +kept, for I entered Rome on foot that year in time, and I heard high +Mass on the Feast of the Apostles, as many can testify--to wit: +Monsignor this, and Chamberlain the other, and the Bishop of +_so-and-so--o--polis in partibus infidelium;_ for we were all there +together. + +And why (you will say) is all this put by itself in what Anglo-Saxons +call a Foreword, but gentlemen a Preface? Why, it is because I have +noticed that no book can appear without some such thing tied on before +it; and as it is folly to neglect the fashion, be certain that I read +some eight or nine thousand of them to be sure of how they were +written and to be safe from generalizing on too frail a basis. + +And having read them and discovered first, that it was the custom of +my contemporaries to belaud themselves in this prolegomenaical ritual +(some saying in a few words that they supplied a want, others boasting +in a hundred that they were too grand to do any such thing, but most +of them baritoning their apologies and chanting their excuses till one +knew that their pride was toppling over)--since, I say, it seemed a +necessity to extol one's work, I wrote simply on the lintel of my +diary, _Praise of this Book,_ so as to end the matter at a blow. But +whether there will be praise or blame I really cannot tell, for I am +riding my pen on the snaffle, and it has a mouth of iron. + +Now there is another thing book writers do in their Prefaces, which is +to introduce a mass of nincompoops of whom no one ever heard, and to +say 'my thanks are due to such and such' all in a litany, as though +any one cared a farthing for the rats! If I omit this believe me it is +but on account of the multitude and splendour of those who have +attended at the production of this volume. For the stories in it are +copied straight from the best authors of the Renaissance, the music +was written by the masters of the eighteenth century, the Latin is +Erasmus' own; indeed, there is scarcely a word that is mine. I must +also mention the Nine Muses, the Three Graces; Bacchus, the Maenads, +the Panthers, the Fauns; and I owe very hearty thanks to Apollo. + +Yet again, I see that writers are for ever anxious of their style, +thinking (not saying)-- + +'True, I used "and which" on page 47, but Martha Brown the stylist +gave me leave;' or: + +'What if I do end a sentence with a preposition? I always follow the +rules of Mr Twist in his "'Tis Thus 'Twas Spoke", Odd's Body an' I do +not!' + +Now this is a pusillanimity of theirs (the book writers) that they +think style power, and yet never say as much in their Prefaces. Come, +let me do so ... Where are you? Let me marshal you, my regiments of +words! + +Rabelais! Master of all happy men! Are you sleeping there pressed into +desecrated earth under the doss-house of the Rue St Paul, or do you +not rather drink cool wine in some elysian Chinon looking on the +Vienne where it rises in Paradise? Are you sleeping or drinking that +you will not lend us the staff of Friar John wherewith he slaughtered +and bashed the invaders of the vineyards, who are but a parable for +the mincing pedants and bloodless thin-faced rogues of the world? + +Write as the wind blows and command all words like an army! See them +how they stand in rank ready for assault, the jolly, swaggering +fellows! + +First come the Neologisms, that are afraid of no man; fresh, young, +hearty, and for the most part very long-limbed, though some few short +and strong. There also are the Misprints to confuse the enemy at his +onrush. Then see upon the flank a company of picked Ambiguities +covering what shall be a feint by the squadron of Anachronisms led by +old Anachronos himself; a terrible chap with nigglers and a great +murderer of fools. + +But here see more deeply massed the ten thousand Egotisms shining in +their armour and roaring for battle. They care for no one. They +stormed Convention yesterday and looted the cellar of Good-Manners, +who died of fear without a wound; so they drank his wine and are +to-day as strong as lions and as careless (saving only their Captain, +Monologue, who is lantern-jawed). + +Here are the Aposiopaesian Auxiliaries, and Dithyramb that killed +Punctuation in open fight; Parenthesis the giant and champion of the +host, and Anacoluthon that never learned to read or write but is very +handy with his sword; and Metathesis and Hendiadys, two Greeks. And +last come the noble Gallicisms prancing about on their light horses: +cavalry so sudden that the enemy sicken at the mere sight of them and +are overcome without a blow. Come then my hearties, my lads, my +indefatigable repetitions, seize you each his own trumpet that hangs +at his side and blow the charge; we shall soon drive them all before +us headlong, howling down together to the Picrocholian Sea. + +So! That was an interlude. Forget the clamour. + +But there is another matter; written as yet in no other Preface: +peculiar to this book. For without rhyme or reason, pictures of an +uncertain kind stand in the pages of the chronicle. Why? + +_Because it has become so cheap to photograph on zinc._ + +In old time a man that drew ill drew not at all. He did well. Then +either there were no pictures in his book, or (if there were any) they +were done by some other man that loved him not a groat and would not +have walked half a mile to see him hanged. But now it is so easy for a +man to scratch down what he sees and put it in his book that any fool +may do it and be none the worse--many others shall follow. This is the +first. + +Before you blame too much, consider the alternative. Shall a man march +through Europe dragging an artist on a cord? God forbid! + +Shall an artist write a book? Why no, the remedy is worse than the +disease. + +Let us agree then, that, if he will, any pilgrim may for the future +draw (if he likes) that most difficult subject, snow hills beyond a +grove of trees; that he may draw whatever he comes across in order to +enliven his mind (for who saw it if not he? And was it not his +loneliness that enabled him to see it?), and that he may draw what he +never saw, with as much freedom as you readers so very continually see +what you never draw. He may draw the morning mist on the Grimsel, six +months afterwards; when he has forgotten what it was like: and he may +frame it for a masterpiece to make the good draughtsman rage. + +The world has grown a boy again this long time past, and they are +building hotels (I hear) in the place where Acedes discovered the +Water of Youth in a hollow of the hill Epistemonoscoptes. + +Then let us love one another and laugh. Time passes, and we shall soon +laugh no longer--and meanwhile common living is a burden, and earnest +men are at siege upon us all around. Let us suffer absurdities, for +that is only to suffer one another. + +Nor let us be too hard upon the just but anxious fellow that sat down +dutifully to paint the soul of Switzerland upon a fan. + +When that first Proverb-Maker who has imposed upon all peoples by his +epigrams and his fallacious half-truths, his empiricism and his wanton +appeals to popular ignorance, I say when this man (for I take it he +was a man, and a wicked one) was passing through France he launched +among the French one of his pestiferous phrases, _'Ce n'est que le +premier pas qui coûté'_ and this in a rolling-in-the-mouth +self-satisfied kind of a manner has been repeated since his day at +least seventeen million three hundred and sixty-two thousand five +hundred and four times by a great mass of Ushers, Parents, Company +Officers, Elder Brothers, Parish Priests, and authorities in general +whose office it may be and whose pleasure it certainly is to jog up +and disturb that native slumber and inertia of the mind which is the +true breeding soil of Revelation. + +For when boys or soldiers or poets, or any other blossoms and prides +of nature, are for lying steady in the shade and letting the Mind +commune with its Immortal Comrades, up comes Authority busking about +and eager as though it were a duty to force the said Mind to burrow +and sweat in the matter of this very perishable world, its temporary +habitation. + +'Up,' says Authority, 'and let me see that Mind of yours doing +something practical. Let me see Him mixing painfully with +circumstance, and botching up some Imperfection or other that shall at +least be a Reality and not a silly Fantasy.' + +Then the poor Mind comes back to Prison again, and the boy takes his +horrible Homer in the real Greek (not Church's book, alas!); the Poet +his rough hairy paper, his headache, and his cross-nibbed pen; the +Soldier abandons his inner picture of swaggering about in ordinary +clothes, and sees the dusty road and feels the hard places in his +boot, and shakes down again to the steady pressure of his pack; and +Authority is satisfied, knowing that he will get a smattering from the +Boy, a rubbishy verse from the Poet, and from the Soldier a long and +thirsty march. And Authority, when it does this commonly sets to work +by one of these formulae: as, in England north of Trent, by the +manifestly false and boastful phrase, 'A thing begun is half ended', +and in the south by 'The Beginning is half the Battle'; but in France +by the words I have attributed to the Proverb-Maker, _'Ce n'est que le +premier pas qui coûte'._ + +By this you may perceive that the Proverb-Maker, like every other +Demagogue, Energumen, and Disturber, dealt largely in metaphor--but +this I need hardly insist upon, for in his vast collection of +published and unpublished works it is amply evident that he took the +silly pride of the half-educated in a constant abuse of metaphor. +There was a sturdy boy at my school who, when the master had carefully +explained to us the nature of metaphor, said that so far as he could +see a metaphor was nothing but a long Greek word for a lie. And +certainly men who know that the mere truth would be distasteful or +tedious commonly have recourse to metaphor, and so do those false men +who desire to acquire a subtle and unjust influence over their +fellows, and chief among them, the Proverb-Maker. For though his name +is lost in the great space of time that has passed since he +flourished, yet his character can be very clearly deduced from the +many literary fragments he has left, and that is found to be the +character of a pusillanimous and ill-bred usurer, wholly lacking in +foresight, in generous enterprise, and chivalrous enthusiasm--in +matters of the Faith a prig or a doubter, in matters of adventure a +poltroon, in matters of Science an ignorant Parrot, and in Letters a +wretchedly bad rhymester, with a vice for alliteration; a wilful liar +(as, for instance, '_The longest way round is the shortest way +home_'), a startling miser (as, _'A penny saved is a penny earned'_}, +one ignorant of largesse and human charity (as, '_Waste not, want +not_'), and a shocking boor in the point of honour (as, _'Hard words +break no bones'_--he never fought, I see, but with a cudgel). + +But he had just that touch of slinking humour which the peasants have, +and there is in all he said that exasperating quality for which we +have no name, which certainly is not accuracy, and which is quite the +opposite of judgement, yet which catches the mind as brambles do our +clothes, causing us continually to pause and swear. For he mixes up +unanswerable things with false conclusions, he is perpetually letting +the cat out of the bag and exposing our tricks, putting a colour to +our actions, disturbing us with our own memory, indecently revealing +corners of the soul. He is like those men who say one unpleasant and +rude thing about a friend, and then take refuge from their disloyal +and false action by pleading that this single accusation is true; and +it is perhaps for this abominable logicality of his and for his +malicious cunning that I chiefly hate him: and since he himself +evidently hated the human race, he must not complain if he is hated in +return. + +Take, for instance, this phrase that set me writing, _'Ce nest que le +premier pas qui coûte'_. It is false. Much after a beginning is +difficult, as everybody knows who has crossed the sea, and as for the +first _step_ a man never so much as remembers it; if there is +difficulty it is in the whole launching of a thing, in the first ten +pages of a book, or the first half-hour of listening to a sermon, or +the first mile of a walk. The first step is undertaken lightly, +pleasantly, and with your soul in the sky; it is the five-hundredth +that counts. But I know, and you know, and he knew (worse luck) that +he was saying a thorny and catching thing when he made up that phrase. +It worries one of set purpose. It is as though one had a voice inside +one saying: + +'I know you, you will never begin anything. Look at what you might +have done! Here you are, already twenty-one, and you have not yet +written a dictionary. What will you do for fame? Eh? Nothing: you are +intolerably lazy--and what is worse, it is your fate. Beginnings are +insuperable barriers to you. What about that great work on The +National Debt? What about that little lyric on Winchelsea that you +thought of writing six years ago? Why are the few lines still in your +head and not on paper? Because you can't begin. However, never mind, +you can't help it, it's your one great flaw, and it's fatal. Look at +Jones! Younger than you by half a year, and already on the _Evening +Yankee_ taking bribes from Company Promoters! And where are you?' &c., +&c.--and so forth. + +So this threat about the heavy task of Beginning breeds +discouragement, anger, vexation, irritability, bad style, pomposity +and infinitives split from helm to saddle, and metaphors as mixed as +the Carlton. But it is just true enough to remain fast in the mind, +caught, as it were, by one finger. For all things (you will notice) +are very difficult in their origin, and why, no one can understand. +_Omne Trinum_: they are difficult also in the shock of maturity and in +their ending. Take, for instance, the Life of Man, which is the +Difficulty of Birth, the Difficulty of Death, and the Difficulty of +the Grand Climacteric. + +LECTOR. What is the Grand Climacteric? + +AUCTOR. I have no time to tell you, for it would lead us into a +discussion on Astrology, and then perhaps to a question of physical +science, and then you would find I was not orthodox, and perhaps +denounce me to the authorities. + +I will tell you this much; it is the moment (not the year or the +month, mind you, nor even the hour, but the very second) when a man is +grown up, when he sees things as they are (that is, backwards), and +feels solidly himself. Do I make myself clear? No matter, it is the +Shock of Maturity, and that must suffice for you. + +But perhaps you have been reading little brown books on Evolution, and +you don't believe in Catastrophes, or Climaxes, or Definitions? Eh? +Tell me, do you believe in the peak of the Matterhorn, and have you +doubts on the points of needles? Can the sun be said truly to rise or +set, and is there any exact meaning in the phrase, 'Done to a turn' as +applied to omelettes? You know there is; and so also you must believe +in Categories, and you must admit differences of kind as well as of +degree, and you must accept exact definition and believe in all that +your fathers did, that were wiser men than you, as is easily proved if +you will but imagine yourself for but one moment introduced into the +presence of your ancestors, and ask yourself which would look the +fool. Especially must you believe in moments and their importance, and +avoid with the utmost care the Comparative Method and the argument of +the Slowly Accumulating Heap. I hear that some scientists are already +beginning to admit the reality of Birth and Death--let but some brave +few make an act of Faith in the Grand Climacteric and all shall yet be +well. + +Well, as I was saying, this Difficulty of Beginning is but one of +three, and is Inexplicable, and is in the Nature of Things, and it is +very especially noticeable in the Art of Letters. There is in every +book the Difficulty of Beginning, the Difficulty of the Turning-Point +(which is the Grand Climacteric of a Book)-- + +LECTOR. What is that in a Book? + +AUCTOR. Why, it is the point where the reader has caught on, enters +into the Book and desires to continue reading it. + +LECTOR. It comes earlier in some books than in others. + +AUCTOR. As you say ... And finally there is the Difficulty of Ending. + +LECTOR. I do not see how there can be any difficulty in ending a book. + +AUCTOR. That shows very clearly that you have never written one, for +there is nothing so hard in the writing of a book--no, not even the +choice of the Dedication--as is the ending of it. On this account only +the great Poets, who are above custom and can snap their divine +fingers at forms, are not at the pains of devising careful endings. +Thus, Homer ends with lines that might as well be in the middle of a +passage; Hesiod, I know not how; and Mr Bailey, the New Voice from +Eurasia, does not end at all, but is still going on. + +Panurge told me that his great work on Conchology would never have +been finished had it not been for the Bookseller that threatened law; +and as it is, the last sentence has no verb in it. There is always +something more to be said, and it is always so difficult to turn up +the splice neatly at the edges. On this account there are regular +models for ending a book or a Poem, as there are for beginning one; +but, for my part, I think the best way of ending a book is to rummage +about among one's manuscripts till one has found a bit of Fine Writing +(no matter upon what subject), to lead up the last paragraphs by no +matter what violent shocks to the thing it deals with, to introduce a +row of asterisks, and then to paste on to the paper below these the +piece of Fine Writing one has found. + +I knew a man once who always wrote the end of a book first, when his +mind was fresh, and so worked gradually back to the introductory +chapter, which (he said) was ever a kind of summary, and could not be +properly dealt with till a man knew all about his subject. He said +this was a sovran way to write History. + +But it seems to me that this is pure extravagance, for it would lead +one at last to beginning at the bottom of the last page, like the +Hebrew Bible, and (if it were fully carried out) to writing one's +sentences backwards till one had a style like the London School of +Poets: a very horrible conclusion. + +However, I am not concerned here with the ending of a book, but with +its beginning; and I say that the beginning of any literary thing is +hard, and that this hardness is difficult to explain. And I say more +than this--I say that an interminable discussion of the difficulty of +beginning a book is the worst omen for going on with it, and a trashy +subterfuge at the best. In the name of all decent, common, and homely +things, why not begin and have done with it? + +It was in the very beginning of June, at evening, but not yet sunset, +that I set out from Toul by the Nancy gate; but instead of going +straight on past the parade-ground, I turned to the right immediately +along the ditch and rampart, and did not leave the fortifications till +I came to the road that goes up alongside the Moselle. For it was by +the valley of this river that I was to begin my pilgrimage, since, by +a happy accident, the valley of the Upper Moselle runs straight +towards Rome, though it takes you but a short part of the way. What a +good opening it makes for a direct pilgrimage can be seen from this +little map, where the dotted line points exactly to Rome. There are +two bends which take one a little out of one's way, and these bends I +attempted to avoid, but in general, the valley, about a hundred miles +from Toul to the source, is an evident gate for any one walking from +this part of Lorraine into Italy. And this map is also useful to show +what route I followed for my first three days past Epinal and +Remiremont up to the source of the river, and up over the great hill, +the Ballon d'Alsace. I show the river valley like a trench, and the +hills above it shaded, till the mountainous upper part, the Vosges, is +put in black. I chose the decline of the day for setting out, because +of the great heat a little before noon and four hours after it. +Remembering this, I planned to walk at night and in the mornings and +evenings, but how this design turned out you shall hear in a moment. + +I had not gone far, not a quarter of a mile, along my road leaving the +town, when I thought I would stop and rest a little and make sure that +I had started propitiously and that I was really on my way to Rome; so +I halted by a wall and looked back at the city and the forts, and drew +what I saw in my book. It was a sight that had taken a firm hold of my +mind in boyhood, and that will remain in it as long as it can make +pictures for itself out of the past. I think this must be true of all +conscripts with regard to the garrison in which they have served, for +the mind is so fresh at twenty-one and the life so new to every +recruit as he joins it, he is so cut off from books and all the +worries of life, that the surroundings of the place bite into him and +take root, as one's school does or one's first home. And I had been +especially fortunate since I had been with the gunners (notoriously +the best kind of men) and not in a big place but in a little town, +very old and silent, with more soldiers in its surrounding circle than +there were men, women, and children within its useless ramparts. It is +known to be very beautiful, and though I had not heard of this +reputation, I saw it to be so at once when I was first marched in, on +a November dawn, up to the height of the artillery barracks. I +remembered seeing then the great hills surrounding it on every side, +hiding their menace and protection of guns, and in the south and east +the silent valley where the high forests dominate the Moselle, and the +town below the road standing in an island or ring of tall trees. All +this, I say, I had permanently remembered, and I had determined, +whenever I could go on pilgrimage to Rome, to make this place my +starting-point, and as I stopped here and looked back, a little way +outside the gates, I took in again the scene that recalled so much +laughter and heavy work and servitude and pride of arms. + +I was looking straight at the great fort of St Michel, which is the +strongest thing on the frontier, and which is the key to the circle of +forts that make up this entrenched camp. One could see little or +nothing of its batteries, only its hundreds of feet of steep brushwood +above the vineyards, and at the summit a stunted wood purposely +planted. Next to it on the left, of equal height, was the hog back of +the Cote Barine, hiding a battery. Between the Cote Barine and my +road and wall, I saw the rising ground and the familiar Barracks that +are called (I know not why) the Barracks of Justice, but ought more +properly to be called the Barracks of petty tyrannies and good +fellowship, in order to show the philosophers that these two things +are the life of armies; for of all the virtues practised in that old +compulsory home of mine Justice came second at least if not third, +while Discipline and Comradeship went first; and the more I think of +it the more I am convinced that of all the suffering youth that was +being there annealed and forged into soldiery none can have suffered +like the lawyers. On the right the high trees that stand outside the +ramparts of the town went dwindling in perspective like a palisade, +and above them, here and there, was a roof showing the top of the +towers of the Cathedral or of St Gengoult. All this I saw looking +backwards, and, when I had noticed it and drawn it, I turned round +again and took the road. + +I had, in a small bag or pocket slung over my shoulder, a large piece +of bread, half a pound of smoked ham, a sketch-book, two Nationalist +papers, and a quart of the wine of Brule--which is the most famous +wine in the neighbourhood of the garrison, yet very cheap. And Brule +is a very good omen for men that are battered about and given to +despairing, since it is only called Brule on account of its having +been burnt so often by Romans, Frenchmen, Burgundians, Germans, +Flemings, Huns perhaps, and generally all those who in the last few +thousand years have taken a short cut at their enemies over the neck +of the Cote Barine. So you would imagine it to be a tumble-down, weak, +wretched, and disappearing place; but, so far from this, it is a rich +and proud village, growing, as I have said, better wine than any in +the garrison. Though Toul stands in a great cup or ring of hills, very +high and with steep slopes, and guns on all of them, and all these +hills grow wine, none is so good as Brule wine. And this reminds me of +a thing that happened in the Manoeuvres of 1891, _quorum pars magna_; +for there were two divisions employed in that glorious and fatiguing +great game, and more than a gross of guns--to be accurate, a hundred +and fifty-six--and of these one (the sixth piece of the tenth battery +of the eighth--I wonder where you all are now? I suppose I shall not +see you again; but you were the best companions in the world, my +friends) was driven by three drivers, of whom I was the middle one, +and the worst, having on my Livret the note 'conducteur mediocre'. But +that is neither here nor there; the story is as follows, and the moral +is that the commercial mind is illogical. + +When we had gone some way, clattering through the dust, and were well +on on the Commercy road, there was a short halt, and during this halt +there passed us the largest Tun or Barrel that ever went on wheels. +You talk of the Great Tun of Heidelburg, or of those monstrous Vats +that stand in cool sheds in the Napa Valley, or of the vast barrels in +the Catacombs of Rheims; but all these are built _in situ_ and meant +to remain steady, and there is no limit to the size of a Barrel that +has not to travel. The point about this enormous Receptacle of Bacchus +and cavernous huge Prison of Laughter, was that it could move, though +cumbrously, and it was drawn very slowly by stupid, patient oxen, who +would not be hurried. On the top of it sat a strong peasant, with a +face of determination, as though he were at war with his kind, and he +kept on calling to his oxen, 'Han', and 'Hu', in the tones of a sullen +challenge, as he went creaking past. Then the soldiers began calling +out to him singly, 'Where are you off to, Father, with that battery?' +and 'Why carry cold water to Commercy? They have only too much as it +is;' and 'What have you got in the little barrelkin, the barrellet, +the cantiniere's brandy-flask, the gourd, the firkin?' He stopped his +oxen fiercely and turned round to us and said: 'I will tell you what I +have here. I have so many hectolitres of Brule wine which I made +myself, and which I know to be the best wine there is, and I am taking +it about to see if I cannot tame and break these proud fellows who are +for ever beating down prices and mocking me. It is worth eight +'scutcheons the hectolitre, that is, eight sols the litre; what do I +say? it is worth a Louis a cup: but I will sell it at the price I +name, and not a penny less. But whenever I come to a village the +innkeeper begins bargaining and chaffering and offering six sols and +seven sols, and I answer, "Eight sols, take it or leave it", and when +he seems for haggling again I get up and drive away. I know the worth +of my wine, and I will not be beaten down though I have to go out of +Lorraine into the Barrois to sell it.' + +So when we caught him up again, as we did shortly after on the road, a +sergeant cried as we passed, 'I will give you seven, seven and a +quarter, seven and a half', and we went on laughing and forgot all +about him. + +For many days we marched from this place to that place, and fired and +played a confused game in the hot sun till the train of sick horses +was a mile long, and till the recruits were all as deaf as so many +posts; and at last, one evening, we came to a place called Heiltz le +Maurupt, which was like heaven after the hot plain and the dust, and +whose inhabitants are as good and hospitable as Angels; it is just +where the Champagne begins. When we had groomed and watered our +horses, and the stable guard had been set, and we had all an hour or +so's leisure to stroll about in the cool darkness before sleeping in +the barns, we had a sudden lesson in the smallness of the world, for +what should come up the village street but that monstrous Barrel, and +we could see by its movements that it was still quite full. + +We gathered round the peasant, and told him how grieved we were at his +ill fortune, and agreed with him that all the people of the Barrois +were thieves or madmen not to buy such wine for such a song. He took +his oxen and his barrel to a very high shed that stood by, and there +he told us all his pilgrimage and the many assaults his firmness +suffered, and how he had resisted them all. There was much more anger +than sorrow in his accent, and I could see that he was of the wood +from which tyrants and martyrs are carved. Then suddenly he changed +and became eloquent: + +'Oh, the good wine! If only it were known and tasted! ... Here, give +me a cup, and I will ask some of you to taste it, then at least I +shall have it praised as it deserves. And this is the wine I have +carried more than a hundred miles, and everywhere it has been +refused!' + +There was one guttering candle on a little stool. The roof of the shed +was lost up in the great height of darkness; behind, in the darkness, +the oxen champed away steadily in the manger. The light from the +candle flame lit his face strongly from beneath and marked it with +dark shadows. It flickered on the circle of our faces as we pressed +round, and it came slantwise and waned and disappeared in the immense +length of the Barrel. He stood near the tap with his brows knit as +upon some very important task, and all we, gunners and drivers of the +battery, began unhooking our mugs and passing them to him. + +There were nearly a hundred, and he filled them all; not in jollity, +but like a man offering up a solemn sacrifice. We also, entering into +his mood, passed our mugs continually, thanking him in a low tone and +keeping in the main silent. A few linesmen lounged at the door; he +asked for their cups and filled them. He bade them fetch as many of +their comrades as cared to come; and very soon there was a circulating +crowd of men all getting wine of Brule and murmuring their +congratulations, and he was willing enough to go on giving, but we +stopped when we saw fit and the scene ended. I cannot tell what +prodigious measure of wine he gave away to us all that night, but when +he struck the roof of the cask it already sounded hollow. And when we +had made a collection which he had refused, he went to sleep by his +oxen, and we to our straw in other barns. Next day we started before +dawn, and I never saw him again. + +This is the story of the wine of Brule, and it shows that what men +love is never money itself but their own way, and that human beings +love sympathy and pageant above all things. It also teaches us not to +be hard on the rich. + +I walked along the valley of the Moselle, and as I walked the long +evening of summer began to fall. The sky was empty and its deeps +infinite; the clearness of the air set me dreaming. I passed the turn +where we used to halt when we were learning how to ride in front of +the guns, past the little house where, on rare holidays, the boys +could eat a matelote, which is fish boiled in wine, and so on to the +place where the river is held by a weir and opens out into a kind of +lake. + +Here I waited for a moment by the wooden railing, and looked up into +the hills. So far I had been at home, and I was now poring upon the +last familiar thing before I ventured into the high woods and began my +experience. I therefore took a leisurely farewell, and pondered +instead of walking farther. Everything about me conduced to +reminiscence and to ease. A flock of sheep passed me with their +shepherd, who gave me a good-night. I found myself entering that +pleasant mood in which all books are conceived (but none written); I +was 'smoking the enchanted cigarettes' of Balzac, and if this kind of +reverie is fatal to action, yet it is so much a factor of happiness +that I wasted in the contemplation of that lovely and silent hollow +many miles of marching. I suppose if a man were altogether his own +master and controlled by no necessity, not even the necessity of +expression, all his life would pass away in these sublime imaginings. + +This was a place I remembered very well. The rising river of Lorraine +is caught and barred, and it spreads in a great sheet of water that +must be very shallow, but that in its reflections and serenity +resembles rather a profound and silent mere. The steeps surrounding it +are nearly mountainous, and are crowned with deep forests in which the +province reposes, and upon which it depends for its local genius. A +little village, which we used to call 'St Peter of the Quarries', lies +up on the right between the steep and the water, and just where the +hills end a flat that was once marshy and is now half fields, half +ponds, but broken with luxuriant trees, marks the great age of its +civilization. Along this flat runs, bordered with rare poplars, the +road which one can follow on and on into the heart of the Vosges. I +took from this silence and this vast plain of still water the repose +that introduces night. It was all consonant with what the peasants +were about: the return from labour, the bleating folds, and the +lighting of lamps under the eaves. In such a spirit I passed along the +upper valley to the spring of the hills. + +In St Pierre it was just that passing of daylight when a man thinks he +can still read; when the buildings and the bridges are great masses of +purple that deceive one, recalling the details of daylight, but when +the night birds, surer than men and less troubled by this illusion of +memory, have discovered that their darkness has conquered. + +The peasants sat outside their houses in the twilight accepting the +cool air; every one spoke to me as I marched through, and I answered +them all, nor was there in any of their salutations the omission of +good fellowship or of the name of God. Saving with one man, who was a +sergeant of artillery on leave, and who cried out to me in an accent +that was very familiar and asked me to drink; but I told him I had to +go up into the forest to take advantage of the night, since the days +were so warm for walking. As I left the last house of the village I +was not secure from loneliness, and when the road began to climb up +the hill into the wild and the trees I was wondering how the night +would pass. + +With every step upward a greater mystery surrounded me. A few stars +were out, and the brown night mist was creeping along the water below, +but there was still light enough to see the road, and even to +distinguish the bracken in the deserted hollows. The highway became +little better than a lane; at the top of the hill it plunged under +tall pines, and was vaulted over with darkness. The kingdoms that have +no walls, and are built up of shadows, began to oppress me as the +night hardened. Had I had companions, still we would only have spoken +in a whisper, and in that dungeon of trees even my own self would not +raise its voice within me. + +It was full night when I had reached a vague clearing in the woods, +right up on the height of that flat hill. This clearing was called +'The Fountain of Magdalen'. I was so far relieved by the broader sky +of the open field that I could wait and rest a little, and there, at +last, separate from men, I thought of a thousand things. The air was +full of midsummer, and its mixture of exaltation and fear cut me off +from ordinary living. I now understood why our religion has made +sacred this season of the year; why we have, a little later, the night +of St John, the fires in the villages, and the old perception of +fairies dancing in the rings of the summer grass. A general communion +of all things conspires at this crisis of summer against us reasoning +men that should live in the daylight, and something fantastic +possesses those who are foolish enough to watch upon such nights. So +I, watching, was cut off. There were huge, vague summits, all wooded, +peering above the field I sat in, but they merged into a confused +horizon. I was on a high plateau, yet I felt myself to be alone with +the immensity that properly belongs to plains alone. I saw the stars, +and remembered how I had looked up at them on just such a night when I +was close to the Pacific, bereft of friends and possessed with +solitude. There was no noise; it was full darkness. The woods before +and behind me made a square frame of silence, and I was enchased here +in the clearing, thinking of all things. + +Then a little wind passed over the vast forests of Lorraine. It seemed +to wake an indefinite sly life proper to this seclusion, a life to +which I was strange, and which thought me an invader. Yet I heard +nothing. There were no adders in the long grass, nor any frogs in that +dry square of land, nor crickets on the high part of the hill; but I +knew that little creatures in league with every nocturnal influence, +enemies of the sun, occupied the air and the land about me; nor will I +deny that I felt a rebel, knowing well that men were made to work in +happy dawns and to sleep in the night, and everything in that short +and sacred darkness multiplied my attentiveness and my illusion. +Perhaps the instincts of the sentry, the necessities of guard, come +back to us out of the ages unawares during such experiments. At any +rate the night oppressed and exalted me. Then I suddenly attributed +such exaltation to the need of food. + +'If we must try this bookish plan of sleeping by day and walking by +night,' I thought, 'at least one must arrange night meals to suit it.' + +I therefore, with my mind still full of the forest, sat down and lit a +match and peered into my sack, taking out therefrom bread and ham and +chocolate and Brûlé wine. For seat and table there was a heathery bank +still full of the warmth and savour of the last daylight, for +companions these great inimical influences of the night which I had +met and dreaded, and for occasion or excuse there was hunger. Of the +Many that debate what shall be done with travellers, it was the best +and kindest Spirit that prompted me to this salutary act. For as I +drank the wine and dealt with the ham and bread, I felt more and more +that I had a right to the road; the stars became familiar and the +woods a plaything. It is quite clear that the body must be recognized +and the soul kept in its place, since a little refreshing food and +drink can do so much to make a man. + +On this repast I jumped up merrily, lit a pipe, and began singing, and +heard, to my inexpressible joy, some way down the road, the sound of +other voices. They were singing that old song of the French infantry +which dates from Louis XIV, and is called 'Auprès de ma blonde'. I +answered their chorus, so that, by the time we met under the wood, we +were already acquainted. They told me they had had a forty-eight +hours' leave into Nancy, the four of them, and had to be in by +roll-call at a place called Villey the Dry. I remembered it after all +those years. + +It is a village perched on the brow of one of these high hills above +the river, and it found itself one day surrounded by earthworks, and a +great fort raised just above the church. Then, before they knew where +they were, they learnt that (1) no one could go in or out between +sunset and sunrise without leave of the officer in command; (2) that +from being a village they had become the 'buildings situate within +Fort No. 18'; (3) that they were to be deluged with soldiers; and (4) +that they were liable to evacuate their tenements on mobilization. +They had become a fort unwittingly as they slept, and all their +streets were blocked with ramparts. A hard fate; but they should not +have built their village just on the brow of a round hill. They did +this in the old days, when men used stone instead of iron, because the +top of a hill was a good place to hold against enemies; and so now, +these 73,426 years after, they find the same advantage catching them +again to their hurt. And so things go the round. + +Anyway Villey the Dry is a fort, and there my four brothers were +going. It was miles off, and they had to be in by sunrise, so I +offered them a pull of my wine, which, to my great joy, they refused, +and we parted courteously. Then I found the road beginning to fall, +and knew that I had crossed the hills. As the forest ended and the +sloping fields began, a dim moon came up late in the east in the bank +of fog that masked the river. So by a sloping road, now free from the +woods, and at the mouth of a fine untenanted valley under the moon, I +came down again to the Moselle, having saved a great elbow by this +excursion over the high land. As I swung round the bend of the hills +downwards and looked up the sloping dell, I remembered that these +heathery hollows were called 'vallons' by the people of Lorraine, and +this set me singing the song of the hunters, 'Entends tu dans nos +vallons, le Chasseur sonner du clairon,' which I sang loudly till I +reached the river bank, and lost the exhilaration of the hills. + +I had now come some twelve miles from my starting-place, and it was +midnight. The plain, the level road (which often rose a little), and +the dank air of the river began to oppress me with fatigue. I was not +disturbed by this, for I had intended to break these nights of +marching by occasional repose, and while I was in the comfort of +cities--especially in the false hopes that one got by reading books--I +had imagined that it was a light matter to sleep in the open. Indeed, +I had often so slept when I had been compelled to it in Manoeuvres, +but I had forgotten how essential was a rug of some kind, and what a +difference a fire and comradeship could make. Thinking over it all, +feeling my tiredness, and shivering a little in the chill under the +moon and the clear sky, I was very ready to capitulate and to sleep in +bed like a Christian at the next opportunity. But there is some +influence in vows or plans that escapes our power of rejudgement. All +false calculations must be paid for, and I found, as you will see, +that having said I would sleep in the open, I had to keep to it in +spite of all my second thoughts. + +I passed one village and then another in which everything was dark, +and in which I could waken nothing but dogs, who thought me an enemy, +till at last I saw a great belt of light in the fog above the Moselle. +Here there was a kind of town or large settlement where there were +ironworks, and where, as I thought, there would be houses open, even +after midnight. I first found the old town, where just two men were +awake at some cooking work or other. I found them by a chink of light +streaming through their door; but they gave me no hope, only advising +me to go across the river and try in the new town where the forges and +the ironworks were. 'There,' they said, 'I should certainly find a +bed.' + +I crossed the bridge, being now much too weary to notice anything, +even the shadowy hills, and the first thing I found was a lot of +waggons that belonged to a caravan or fair. Here some men were awake, +but when I suggested that they should let me sleep in their little +houses on wheels, they told me it was never done; that it was all they +could do to pack in themselves; that they had no straw; that they were +guarded by dogs; and generally gave me to understand (though without +violence or unpoliteness) that I looked as though I were the man to +steal their lions and tigers. They told me, however, that without +doubt I should find something open in the centre of the workmen's +quarter, where the great electric lamps now made a glare over the +factory. + +I trudged on unwillingly, and at the very last house of this +detestable industrial slavery, a high house with a gable, I saw a +window wide open, and a blonde man smoking a cigarette at a balcony. I +called to him at once, and asked him to let me a bed. He put to me all +the questions he could think of. Why was I there? Where had I come +from? Where (if I was honest) had I intended to sleep? How came I at +such an hour on foot? and other examinations. I thought a little what +excuse to give him, and then, determining that I was too tired to make +up anything plausible, I told him the full truth; that I had meant to +sleep rough, but had been overcome by fatigue, and that I had walked +from Toul, starting at evening. I conjured him by our common Faith to +let me in. He told me that it was impossible, as he had but one room +in which he and his family slept, and assured me he had asked all +these questions out of sympathy and charity alone. Then he wished me +good-night, honestly and kindly, and went in. + +By this time I was very much put out, and began to be angry. These +straggling French towns give no opportunity for a shelter. I saw that +I should have to get out beyond the market gardens, and that it might +be a mile or two before I found any rest. A clock struck one. I looked +up and saw it was from the belfry of one of those new chapels which +the monks are building everywhere, nor did I forget to curse the monks +in my heart for building them. I cursed also those who started +smelting works in the Moselle valley; those who gave false advice to +travellers; those who kept lions and tigers in caravans, and for a +small sum I would have cursed the whole human race, when I saw that my +bile had hurried me out of the street well into the countryside, and +that above me, on a bank, was a patch of orchard and a lane leading up +to it. Into this I turned, and, finding a good deal of dry hay lying +under the trees, I soon made myself an excellent bed, first building a +little mattress, and then piling on hay as warm as a blanket. + +I did not lie awake (as when I planned my pilgrimage I had promised +myself I would do), looking at the sky through the branches of trees, +but I slept at once without dreaming, and woke up to find it was broad +daylight, and the sun ready to rise. Then, stiff and but little rested +by two hours of exhaustion, I took up my staff and my sack and +regained the road. + +I should very much like to know what those who have an answer to +everything can say about the food requisite to breakfast? Those great +men Marlowe and Jonson, Shakespeare, and Spenser before him, drank +beer at rising, and tamed it with a little bread. In the regiment we +used to drink black coffee without sugar, and cut off a great hunk of +stale crust, and eat nothing more till the halt: for the matter of +that, the great victories of '93 were fought upon such unsubstantial +meals; for the Republicans fought first and ate afterwards, being in +this quite unlike the Ten Thousand. Sailors I know eat nothing for +some hours--I mean those who turn out at four in the morning; I could +give the name of the watch, but that I forget it and will not be +plagued to look up technicalities. Dogs eat the first thing they come +across, cats take a little milk, and gentlemen are accustomed to get +up at nine and eat eggs, bacon, kidneys, ham, cold pheasant, toast, +coffee, tea, scones, and honey, after which they will boast that their +race is the hardiest in the world and ready to bear every fatigue in +the pursuit of Empire. But what rule governs all this? Why is +breakfast different from all other things, so that the Greeks called +it the best thing in the world, and so that each of us in a vague way +knows that he would eat at breakfast nothing but one special kind of +food, and that he could not imagine breakfast at any other hour in the +day? + +The provocation to this inquiry (which I have here no time to pursue) +lies in the extraordinary distaste that I conceived that morning for +Brule wine. My ham and bread and chocolate I had consumed overnight. +I thought, in my folly, that I could break my fast on a swig of what +had seemed to me, only the night before, the best revivifier and +sustenance possible. In the harsh dawn it turned out to be nothing but +a bitter and intolerable vinegar. I make no attempt to explain this, +nor to say why the very same wine that had seemed so good in the +forest (and was to seem so good again later on by the canal) should +now repel me. I can only tell you that this heavy disappointment +convinced me of a great truth that a Politician once let slip in my +hearing, and that I have never since forgotten. _'Man,'_ said the +Director of the State, _'man is but the creature of circumstance.'_ + +As it was, I lit a pipe of tobacco and hobbled blindly along for miles +under and towards the brightening east. Just before the sun rose I +turned and looked backward from a high bridge that recrossed the +river. The long effort of the night had taken me well on my way. I was +out of the familiar region of the garrison. The great forest-hills +that I had traversed stood up opposite the dawn, catching the new +light; heavy, drifting, but white clouds, rare at such an hour, sailed +above them. The valley of the Moselle, which I had never thought of +save as a half mountainous region, had fallen, to become a kind of +long garden, whose walls were regular, low, and cultivated slopes. +The main waterway of the valley was now not the river but the canal +that fed from it. + +The tall grasses, the leaves, and poplars bordering the river and the +canal seemed dark close to me, but the valley as a whole was vague, a +mass of trees with one Lorraine church-tower showing, and the delicate +slopes bounding it on either side. + +Descending from this bridge I found a sign-post, that told me I had +walked thirty-two kilometres--which is twenty miles--from Toul; that +it was one kilometre to Flavigny, and heaven knows how much to a place +called Charmes. The sun rose in the mist that lay up the long even +trends of the vale, between the low and level hills, and I pushed on +my thousand yards towards Flavigny. There, by a special providence, I +found the entertainment and companionship whose lack had left me +wrecked all these early hours. + +As I came into Flavigny I saw at once that it was a place on which a +book might easily be written, for it had a church built in the +seventeenth century, when few churches were built outside great towns, +a convent, and a general air of importance that made of it that grand +and noble thing, that primary cell of the organism of Europe, that +best of all Christian associations - a large village. + +I say a book might be written upon it, and there is no doubt that a +great many articles and pamphlets must have been written upon it, for +the French are furiously given to local research and reviews, and to +glorifying their native places: and when they cannot discover folklore +they enrich their beloved homes by inventing it. + +There was even a man (I forget his name) who wrote a delightful book +called _Popular and Traditional Songs of my Province,_ which book, +after he was dead, was discovered to be entirely his own invention, +and not a word of it familiar to the inhabitants of the soil. He was a +large, laughing man that smoked enormously, had great masses of hair, +and worked by night; also he delighted in the society of friends, and +talked continuously. I wish he had a statue somewhere, and that they +would pull down to make room for it any one of those useless bronzes +that are to be found even in the little villages, and that commemorate +solemn, whiskered men, pillars of the state. For surely this is the +habit of the true poet, and marks the vigour and recurrent origin of +poetry, that a man should get his head full of rhythms and catches, +and that they should jumble up somehow into short songs of his own. +What could more suggest (for instance) a whole troop of dancing words +and lovely thoughts than this refrain from the Tourdenoise-- + + ... Son beau corps est en terre + Son âme en Paradis. + Tu ris? + Et ris, tu ris, ma Bergère, + Ris, ma Bergère, tu ris. + +That was the way they set to work in England before the Puritans came, +when men were not afraid to steal verses from one another, and when no +one imagined that he could live by letters, but when every poet took a +patron, or begged or robbed the churches. So much for the poets. + +Flavigny then, I say (for I seem to be digressing), is a long street +of houses all built together as animals build their communities. They +are all very old, but the people have worked hard since the +Revolution, and none of them are poor, nor are any of them very rich. +I saw but one gentleman's house, and that, I am glad to say, was in +disrepair. Most of the peasants' houses had, for a ground floor, +cavernous great barns out of which came a delightful smell of morning +-- that is, of hay, litter, oxen, and stored grains and old wood; +which is the true breath of morning, because it is the scent that all +the human race worth calling human first meets when it rises, and is +the association of sunrise in the minds of those who keep the world +alive: but not in the wretched minds of townsmen, and least of all in +the minds of journalists, who know nothing of morning save that it is +a time of jaded emptiness when you have just done prophesying (for the +hundredth time) the approaching end of the world, when the floors are +beginning to tremble with machinery, and when, in a weary kind of way, +one feels hungry and alone: a nasty life and usually a short one. + +To return to Flavigny. This way of stretching a village all along one +street is Roman, and is the mark of civilization. When I was at +college I was compelled to read a work by the crabbed Tacitus on the +Germans, where, in the midst of a deal that is vague and fantastic +nonsense and much that is wilful lying, comes this excellent truth, +that barbarians build their houses separate, but civilized men +together. So whenever you see a lot of red roofs nestling, as the +phrase goes, in the woods of a hillside in south England, remember +that all that is savagery; but when you see a hundred white-washed +houses in a row along a dead straight road, lift up your hearts, for +you are in civilization again. + +But I continue to wander from Flavigny. The first thing I saw as I +came into the street and noted how the level sun stood in a haze +beyond, and how it shadowed and brought out the slight irregularities +of the road, was a cart drawn by a galloping donkey, which came at and +passed me with a prodigious clatter as I dragged myself forward. In +the cart were two nuns, each with a scythe; they were going out +mowing, and were up the first in the village, as Religious always are. +Cheered by this happy omen, but not yet heartened, I next met a very +old man leading out a horse, and asked him if there was anywhere where +I could find coffee and bread at that hour; but he shook his head +mournfully and wished me good-morning in a strong accent, for he was +deaf and probably thought I was begging. So I went on still more +despondent till I came to a really merry man of about middle age who +was going to the fields, singing, with a very large rake over his +shoulder. When I had asked him the same question he stared at me a +little and said of course coffee and bread could be had at the +baker's, and when I asked him how I should know the baker's he was +still more surprised at my ignorance, and said, 'By the smoke coming +from the large chimney.' This I saw rising a short way off on my +right, so I thanked him and went and found there a youth of about +nineteen, who sat at a fine oak table and had coffee, rum, and a loaf +before him. He was waiting for the bread in the oven to be ready; and +meanwhile he was very courteous, poured out coffee and rum for me and +offered me bread. + +It is a matter often discussed why bakers are such excellent citizens +and good men. For while it is admitted in every country I was ever in +that cobblers are argumentative and atheists (I except the cobbler +under Plinlimmon, concerning whom would to heaven I had the space to +tell you all here, for he knows the legends of the mountain), while it +is public that barbers are garrulous and servile, that millers are +cheats (we say in Sussex that every honest miller has a large tuft of +hair on the palm of his hand), yet--with every trade in the world +having some bad quality attached to it--bakers alone are exempt, and +every one takes it for granted that they are sterling: indeed, there +are some societies in which, no matter how gloomy and churlish the +conversation may have become, you have but to mention bakers for +voices to brighten suddenly and for a good influence to pervade every +one. I say this is known for a fact, but not usually explained; the +explanation is, that bakers are always up early in the morning and can +watch the dawn, and that in this occupation they live in lonely +contemplation enjoying the early hours. + +So it was with this baker of mine in Flavigny, who was a boy. When he +heard that I had served at Toul he was delighted beyond measure; he +told me of a brother of his that had been in the same regiment, and he +assured me that he was himself going into the artillery by special +enlistment, having got his father's leave. You know very little if you +think I missed the opportunity of making the guns seem terrible and +glorious in his eyes. I told him stories enough to waken a sentry of +reserve, and if it had been possible (with my youth so obvious) I +would have woven in a few anecdotes of active service, and described +great shells bursting under my horses and the teams shot down, and the +gunners all the while impassive; but as I saw I should not be believed +I did not speak of such things, but confined myself to what he would +see and hear when he joined. + +Meanwhile the good warm food and the rising morning had done two +things; they had put much more vigour into me than I had had when I +slunk in half-an-hour before, but at the same time (and this is a +thing that often comes with food and with rest) they had made me feel +the fatigue of so long a night. I rose up, therefore, determined to +find some place where I could sleep. I asked this friend of mine how +much there was to pay, and he said 'fourpence'. Then we exchanged +ritual salutations, and I took the road. I did not leave the town or +village without noticing one extraordinary thing at the far end of it, +which was that, whereas most places in France are proud of their +town-hall and make a great show of it, here in Flavigny they had taken +a great house and written over it ÉCOLE COMMUNALE in great letters, +and then they had written over a kind of lean-to or out-house of this +big place the words 'Hôtel de ville1 in very small letters, so small +that I had a doubt for a moment if the citizens here were good +republicans--a treasonable thought on all this frontier. + +Then, a mile onward, I saw the road cross the canal and run parallel +to it. I saw the canal run another mile or so under a fine bank of +deep woods. I saw an old bridge leading over it to that inviting +shade, and as it was now nearly six and the sun was gathering +strength, I went, with slumber overpowering me and my feet turning +heavy beneath me, along the tow-path, over the bridge, and lay down on +the moss under these delightful trees. Forgetful of the penalty that +such an early repose would bring, and of the great heat that was to +follow at midday, I quickly became part of the life of that forest and +fell asleep. + +When I awoke it was full eight o'clock, and the sun had gained great +power. I saw him shining at me through the branches of my trees like +a patient enemy outside a city that one watches through the loopholes +of a tower, and I began to be afraid of taking the road. I looked +below me down the steep bank between the trunks and saw the canal +looking like black marble, and I heard the buzzing of the flies above +it, and I noted that all the mist had gone. A very long way off, the +noise of its ripples coming clearly along the floor of the water, was +a lazy barge and a horse drawing it. From time to time the tow-rope +slackened into the still surface, and I heard it dripping as it rose. +The rest of the valley was silent except for that under-humming of +insects which marks the strength of the sun. + +Now I saw clearly how difficult it was to turn night into day, for I +found myself condemned either to waste many hours that ought to be +consumed on my pilgrimage, or else to march on under the extreme heat; +and when I had drunk what was left of my Brule wine (which then seemed +delicious), and had eaten a piece of bread, I stiffly jolted down the +bank and regained the highway. + +In the first village I came to I found that Mass was over, and this +justly annoyed me; for what is a pilgrimage in which a man cannot hear +Mass every morning? Of all the things I have read about St Louis which +make me wish I had known him to speak to, nothing seems to me more +delightful than his habit of getting Mass daily whenever he marched +down south, but why this should be so delightful I cannot tell. Of +course there is a grace and influence belonging to such a custom, but +it is not of that I am speaking but of the pleasing sensation of order +and accomplishment which attaches to a day one has opened by Mass; a +purely temporal, and, for all I know, what the monks back at the +ironworks would have called a carnal feeling, but a source of +continual comfort to me. Let them go their way and let me go mine. + +This comfort I ascribe to four causes (just above you will find it +written that I could not tell why this should be so, but what of +that?), and these causes are: + +1. That for half-an-hour just at the opening of the day you are silent +and recollected, and have to put off cares, interests, and passions in +the repetition of a familiar action. This must certainly be a great +benefit to the body and give it tone. + +2. That the Mass is a careful and rapid ritual. Now it is the function +of all ritual (as we see in games, social arrangements and so forth) +to relieve the mind by so much of responsibility and initiative and to +catch you up (as it were) into itself, leading your life for you +during the time it lasts. In this way you experience a singular +repose, after which fallowness I am sure one is fitter for action and +judgement. + +3. That the surroundings incline you to good and reasonable thoughts, +and for the moment deaden the rasp and jar of that busy wickedness +which both working in one's self and received from others is the true +source of all human miseries. Thus the time spent at Mass is like a +short repose in a deep and well-built library, into which no sounds +come and where you feel yourself secure against the outer world. + +4. And the most important cause of this feeling of satisfaction is +that you are doing what the human race has done for thousands upon +thousands upon thousands of years. This is a matter of such moment +that I am astonished people hear of it so little. Whatever is buried +right into our blood from immemorial habit that we must be certain to +do if we are to be fairly happy (of course no grown man or woman can +really be very happy for long--but I mean reasonably happy), and, what +is more important, decent and secure of our souls. Thus one should +from time to time hunt animals, or at the very least shoot at a mark; +one should always drink some kind of fermented liquor with one's +food--and especially deeply upon great feast-days; one should go on +the water from time to time; and one should dance on occasions; and +one should sing in chorus. For all these things man has done since God +put him into a garden and his eyes first became troubled with a soul. +Similarly some teacher or ranter or other, whose name I forget, said +lately one very wise thing at least, which was that every man should +do a little work with his hands. + +Oh! what good philosophy this is, and how much better it would be if +rich people, instead of raining the influence of their rank and +spending their money on leagues for this or that exceptional thing, +were to spend it in converting the middle-class to ordinary living and +to the tradition of the race. Indeed, if I had power for some thirty +years I would see to it that people should be allowed to follow their +inbred instincts in these matters, and should hunt, drink, sing, +dance, sail, and dig; and those that would not should be compelled by +force. + +Now in the morning Mass you do all that the race needs to do and has +done for all these ages where religion was concerned; there you have +the sacred and separate Enclosure, the Altar, the Priest in his +Vestments, the set ritual, the ancient and hierarchic tongue, and all +that your nature cries out for in the matter of worship. + +From these considerations it is easy to understand how put out I was +to find Mass over on this first morning of my pilgrimage. And I went +along the burning road in a very ill-humour till I saw upon my right, +beyond a low wall and in a kind of park, a house that seemed built on +some artificial raised ground surrounded by a wall, but this may have +been an illusion, the house being really only very tall. At any rate I +drew it, and in the village just beyond it I learnt something curious +about the man that owned it. + +For I had gone into a house to take a third meal of bread and wine and +to replenish my bottle when the old woman of the house, who was a +kindly person, told me she had just then no wine. 'But,' said she, 'Mr +So and So that lives in the big house sells it to any one who cares to +buy even in the smallest quantities, and you will see his shed +standing by the side of the road.' + +Everything happened just as she had said. I came to the big shed by +the park wall, and there was a kind of counter made of boards, and +several big tuns and two men: one in an apron serving, and the other +in a little box or compartment writing. I was somewhat timid to ask +for so little as a quart, but the apron man in the most businesslike +way filled my bottle at a tap and asked for fourpence. He was willing +to talk, and told me many things: of good years in wine, of the nature +of their trade, of the influence of the moon on brewing, of the +importance of spigots, and what not; but when I tried to get out of +him whether the owner were an eccentric private gentleman or a +merchant that had the sense to earn little pennies as well as large +ones, I could not make him understand my meaning; for his idea of rank +was utterly different from mine and took no account of idleness and +luxury and daftness, but was based entirely upon money and clothes. +Moreover we were both of us Republicans, so the matter was of no great +moment. Courteously saluting ourselves we parted, he remaining to sell +wine and I hobbling to Rome, now a little painfully and my sack the +heavier by a quart of wine, which, as you probably know, weighs almost +exactly two pounds and a half. + +It was by this time close upon eleven, and I had long reached the +stage when some kinds of men begin talking of Dogged Determination, +Bull-dog pluck, the stubborn spirit of the Island race and so forth, +but when those who can boast a little of the sacred French blood are +in a mood of set despair (both kinds march on, and the mobility of +either infantry is much the same), I say I had long got to this point +of exhaustion when it occurred to me that I should need an excellent +and thorough meal at midday. But on looking at my map I found that +there was nothing nearer than this town of Charmes that was marked on +the milestones, and that was the first place I should come to in the +department of the Vosges. + +It would take much too long to describe the dodges that weary men and +stiff have recourse to when they are at the close of a difficult task: +how they divide it up in lengths in their minds, how they count +numbers, how they begin to solve problems in mental arithmetic: I +tried them all. Then I thought of a new one, which is really +excellent, and which I recommend to the whole world. It is to vary the +road, suddenly taking now the fields, now the river, but only +occasionally the turnpike. This last lap was very well suited for such +a method. The valley had become more like a wide and shallow trench +than ever. The hills on either side were low and exactly even. Up the +middle of it went the river, the canal and the road, and these two +last had only a field between them; now broad, now narrow. + +First on the tow-path, then on the road, then on the grass, then back +on the tow-path, I pieced out the last baking mile into Charmes, that +lies at the foot of a rather higher hill, and at last was dragging +myself up the street just as the bell was ringing the noon Angelus; +nor, however tedious you may have found it to read this final effort +of mine, can you have found it a quarter as wearisome as I did to walk +it; and surely between writer and reader there should be give and +take, now the one furnishing the entertainment and now the other. + +The delightful thing in Charmes is its name. Of this name I had indeed +been thinking as I went along the last miles of that dusty and +deplorable road--that a town should be called 'Charms'. + +Not but that towns, if they are left to themselves and not hurried, +have a way of settling into right names suited to the hills about them +and recalling their own fields. I remember Sussex, and as I remember +it I must, if only for example, set down my roll-call of such names, +as--Fittleworth, where the Inn has painted panels; Amberley in the +marshes; delicate Fernhurst, and Ditchling under its hill; Arundel, +that is well known to every one; and Climping, that no one knows, set +on a lonely beach and lost at the vague end of an impassable road; and +Barlton, and Burton, and Duncton, and Coldwatham, that stand under in +the shadow and look up at the great downs; and Petworth, where the +spire leans sideways; and Timberley, that the floods make into an +island; and No Man's Land, where first there breaks on you the distant +sea. I never knew a Sussex man yet but, if you noted him such a list, +would answer: 'There I was on such and such a day; this I came to +after such and such a run; and that other is my home.' But it is not +his recollection alone which moves him, it is sound of the names. He +feels the accent of them, and all the men who live between Hind-head +and the Channel know these names stand for Eden; the noise is enough +to prove it. So it is also with the hidden valleys of the lie de +France; and when you say Jouy or Chevreuse to a man that was born in +those shadows he grows dreamy--yet they are within a walk of Paris. + +But the wonderful thing about a name like Charmes is that it hands +down the dead. For some dead man gave it a keen name proceeding from +his own immediate delight, and made general what had been a private +pleasure, and, so to speak, bequeathed a poem to his town. They say +the Arabs do this; calling one place 'the rest of the warriors', and +another 'the end', and another 'the surprise of the horses': let those +who know them speak for it. I at least know that in the west of the +Cotentin (a sea-garden) old Danes married to Gaulish women discovered +the just epithet, and that you have 'St Mary on the Hill' and 'High +Town under the Wind' and 'The Borough over the Heath', which are +to-day exactly what their name describes them. If you doubt that +England has such descriptive names, consider the great Truth that at +one junction on a railway where a mournful desolation of stagnant +waters and treeless, stonewalled fields threatens you with experience +and awe, a melancholy porter is told off to put his head into your +carriage and to chant like Charon, 'Change here for Ashton under the +Wood, Moreton on the Marsh, Bourton on the Water, and Stow in the +Wold.' + +Charmes does not fulfil its name nor preserve what its forgotten son +found so wonderful in it. For at luncheon there a great commercial +traveller told me fiercely that it was chiefly known for its +breweries, and that he thought it of little account. Still even in +Charmes I found one marvellous corner of a renaissance house, which I +drew; but as I have lost the drawing, let it go. + +When I came out from the inn of Charmes the heat was more terrible +than ever, and the prospect of a march in it more intolerable. My head +hung, I went very slowly, and I played with cowardly thoughts, which +were really (had I known it) good angels. I began to look out +anxiously for woods, but saw only long whitened wall glaring in the +sun, or, if ever there were trees, they were surrounded by wooden +palisades which the owners had put there. But in a little time (now I +had definitely yielded to temptation) I found a thicket. + +You must know that if you yield to entertaining a temptation, there is +the opportunity presented to you like lightning. A theologian told me +this, and it is partly true: but not of Mammon or Belphegor, or +whatever Devil it is that overlooks the Currency (I can see his face +from here): for how many have yielded to the Desire of Riches and +professed themselves very willing to revel in them, yet did not get an +opportunity worth a farthing till they died? Like those two beggars +that Rabelais tells of, one of whom wished for all the gold that would +pay for all the merchandise that had ever been sold in Paris since its +first foundation, and the other for as much gold as would go into all +the sacks that could be sewn by all the needles (and those of the +smallest size) that could be crammed into Notre-Dame from the floor to +the ceiling, filling the smallest crannies. Yet neither had a crust +that night to rub his gums with. + +Whatever Devil it is, however, that tempts men to repose--and for my +part I believe him to be rather an Aeon than a Devil: that is, a +good-natured fellow working on his own account neither good nor +ill--whatever being it is, it certainly suits one's mood, for I never +yet knew a man determined to be lazy that had not ample opportunity +afforded him, though he were poorer than the cure of Maigre, who +formed a syndicate to sell at a scutcheon a gross such souls as were +too insignificant to sell singly. A man can always find a chance for +doing nothing as amply and with as ecstatic a satisfaction as the +world allows, and so to me (whether it was there before I cannot tell, +and if it came miraculously, so much the more amusing) appeared this +thicket. It was to the left of the road; a stream ran through it in a +little ravine; the undergrowth was thick beneath its birches, and just +beyond, on the plain that bordered it, were reapers reaping in a +field. I went into it contentedly and slept till evening my third +sleep; then, refreshed by the cool wind that went before the twilight, +I rose and took the road again, but I knew I could not go far. + +I was now past my fortieth mile, and though the heat had gone, yet my +dead slumber had raised a thousand evils. I had stiffened to lameness, +and had fallen into the mood when a man desires companionship and the +talk of travellers rather than the open plain. But (unless I went +backward, which was out of the question) there was nowhere to rest in +for a long time to come. The next considerable village was Thayon, +which is called 'Thayon of the Vosges', because one is nearing the big +hills, and thither therefore I crawled mile after mile. + +But my heart sank. First my foot limped, and then my left knee +oppressed me with a sudden pain. I attempted to relieve it by leaning +on my right leg, and so discovered a singular new law in medicine +which I will propose to the scientists. For when those excellent men +have done investigating the twirligigs of the brain to find out where +the soul is, let them consider this much more practical matter, that +you cannot relieve the pain in one limb without driving it into some +other; and so I exchanged twinges in the left knee for a horrible +great pain in the right. I sat down on a bridge, and wondered; I saw +before me hundreds upon hundreds of miles, painful and exhausted, and +I asked heaven if this was necessary to a pilgrimage. (But, as you +shall hear, a pilgrimage is not wholly subject to material laws, for +when I came to Épinal next day I went into a shop which, whatever it +was to the profane, appeared to me as a chemist's shop, where I bought +a bottle of some stuff called 'balm', and rubbing myself with it was +instantly cured.) + +Then I looked down from the bridge across the plain, and saw, a long +way off beyond the railway, the very ugly factory village of Thayon, +and reached it at last, not without noticing that the people were +standing branches of trees before their doors, and the little children +noisily helping to tread the stems firmly into the earth. They told me +it was for the coming of Corpus Christi, and so proved to me that +religion, which is as old as these valleys, would last out their +inhabiting men. Even here, in a place made by a great laundry, a +modern industrial row of tenements, all the world was putting out +green branches to welcome the Procession and the Sacrament and the +Priest. Comforted by this evident refutation of the sad nonsense I had +read in Cities from the pen of intellectuals--nonsense I had known to +be nonsense, but that had none the less tarnished my mind--I happily +entered the inn, ate and drank, praised God, and lay down to sleep in +a great bed. I mingled with my prayers a firm intention of doing the +ordinary things, and not attempting impossibilities, such as marching +by night, nor following out any other vanities of this world. Then, +having cast away all theories of how a pilgrimage should be conducted, +and broken five or six vows, I slept steadily till the middle of the +morning. I had covered fifty miles in twenty-five hours, and if you +imagine this to be but two miles an hour, you must have a very +mathematical mind, and know little of the realities of living. I woke +and threw my shutters open to the bright morning and the masterful +sun, took my coffee, and set out once more towards Epinal, the +stronghold a few miles away--delighted to see that my shadow was so +short and the road so hot to the feet and eyes. For I said, 'This at +least proves that I am doing like all the world, and walking during +the day.' It was but a couple of hours to the great garrison. In a +little time I passed a battery. Then a captain went by on a horse, +with his orderly behind him. Where the deep lock stands by the +roadside--the only suggestion of coolness--I first heard the bugles; +then I came into the long street and determined to explore Epinal, and +to cast aside all haste and folly. + +There are many wonderful things in Epinal. As, for instance, that it +was evidently once, like Paris and Melun and a dozen other strongholds +of the Gauls, an island city. For the rivers of France are full of +long, habitable islands, and these were once the rallying-places of +clans. Then there are the forts which are placed on high hills round +the town and make it even stronger than Toul; for Epinal stands just +where the hills begin to be very high. Again, it is the capital of a +mountain district, and this character always does something peculiar +and impressive to a town. You may watch its effect in Grenoble, in +little Aubusson, and, rather less, in Geneva. + +For in such towns three quite different kinds of men meet. First there +are the old plain-men, who despise the highlanders and think +themselves much grander and more civilized; these are the burgesses. +Then there are the peasants and wood-cutters, who come in from the +hill-country to market, and who are suspicious of the plain-men and +yet proud to depend upon a real town with a bishop and paved streets. +Lastly, there are the travellers, who come there to enjoy the +mountains and to make the city a base for their excursions, and these +love the hill-men and think they understand them, and they despise the +plain-men for being so middle-class as to lord it over the hill-men: +but in truth this third class, being outsiders, are equally hated and +despised by both the others, and there is a combination against them +and they are exploited. + +And there are many other things in which Épinal is wonderful, but in +nothing is it more wonderful than in its great church. + +I suppose that the high Dukes of Burgundy and Lorraine and the rich +men from Flanders and the House of Luxemburg and the rest, going to +Rome, the centre of the world, had often to pass up this valley of the +Moselle, which (as I have said) is a road leading to Rome, and would +halt at fipinal and would at times give money for its church; with +this result, that the church belongs to every imaginable period and is +built anyhow, in twenty styles, but stands as a whole a most enduring +record of past forms and of what has pleased the changing mind when it +has attempted to worship in stone. + +Thus the transept is simply an old square barn of rough stone, older, +I suppose, than Charlemagne and without any ornament. In its lower +courses I thought I even saw the Roman brick. It had once two towers, +northern and southern; the southern is ruined and has a wooden roof, +the northern remains and is just a pinnacle or minaret too narrow for +bells. + +Then the apse is pure and beautiful Gothic of the fourteenth century, +with very tall and fluted windows like single prayers. The ambulatory +is perfectly modern, Gothic also, and in the manner that Viollet le +Duc in France and Pugin in England have introduced to bring us back to +our origins and to remind us of the place whence all we Europeans +came. Again, this apse and ambulatory are not perpendicular to the +transept, but set askew, a thing known in small churches and said to +be a symbol, but surely very rare in large ones. The western door is +purely Romanesque, and has Byzantine ornaments and a great deep round +door. To match it there is a northern door still deeper, with rows and +rows of inner arches full of saints, angels, devils, and flowers; and +this again is not straight, but so built that the arches go aslant, as +you sometimes see railway bridges when they cross roads at an angle. +Finally, there is a central tower which is neither Gothic nor +Romanesque but pure Italian, a loggia, with splendid round airy +windows taking up all its walls, and with a flat roof and eaves. This +some one straight from the south must have put on as a memory of his +wanderings. + +The barn-transept is crumbling old grey stone, the Romanesque porches +are red, like Strasburg, the Gothic apse is old white as our +cathedrals are, the modern ambulatory is of pure white stone just +quarried, and thus colours as well as shapes are mingled up and +different in this astonishing building. + +I drew it from that point of view in the market-place to the +north-east which shows most of these contrasts at once, and you must +excuse the extreme shakiness of the sketch, for it was taken as best I +could on an apple-cart with my book resting on the apples--there was +no other desk. Nor did the apple-seller mind my doing it, but on the +contrary gave me advice and praise saying such things as-- + +'Excellent; you have caught the angle of the apse ... Come now, darken +the edge of that pillar ... I fear you have made the tower a little +confused,' and so forth. + +I offered to buy a few apples off him, but he gave me three instead, +and these, as they incommoded me, I gave later to a little child. + +Indeed the people of Épinal, not taking me for a traveller but simply +for a wandering poor man, were very genial to me, and the best good +they did me was curing my lameness. For, seeing an apothecary's shop +as I was leaving the town, I went in and said to the apothecary-- + +'My knee has swelled and is very painful, and I have to walk far; +perhaps you can tell me how to cure it, or give me something that +will.' + +'There is nothing easier,' he said; 'I have here a specific for the +very thing you complain of.' + +With this he pulled out a round bottle, on the label of which was +printed in great letters, 'BALM'. + +'You have but to rub your knee strongly and long with this ointment of +mine,' he said, 'and you will be cured.' Nor did he mention any +special form of words to be repeated as one did it. + +Everything happened just as he had said. When I was some little way +above the town I sat down on a low wall and rubbed my knee strongly +and long with this balm, and the pain instantly disappeared. Then, +with a heart renewed by this prodigy, I took the road again and began +walking very rapidly and high, swinging on to Rome. + +The Moselle above fipinal takes a bend outwards, and it seemed to me +that a much shorter way to the next village (which is called +Archettes, or 'the very little arches', because there are no arches +there) would be right over the hill round which the river curved. This +error came from following private judgement and not heeding tradition, +here represented by the highroad which closely follows the river. For +though a straight tunnel to Archettes would have saved distance, yet a +climb over that high hill and through the pathless wood on its summit +was folly. + +I went at first over wide, sloping fields, and some hundred feet above +the valley I crossed a little canal. It was made on a very good +system, and I recommend it to the riparian owners of the Upper Wye, +which needs it. They take the water from the Moselle (which is here +broad and torrential and falls in steps, running over a stony bed with +little swirls and rapids), and they lead it along at an even gradient, +averaging, as it were, the uneven descent of the river. In this way +they have a continuous stream running through fields that would +otherwise be bare and dry, but that are thus nourished into excellent +pastures. + +Above these fields the forest went up steeply. I had not pushed two +hundred yards into its gloom and confusion when I discovered that I +had lost my way. It was necessary to take the only guide I had and to +go straight upwards wherever the line of greatest inclination seemed +to lie, for that at least would take me to a summit and probably to a +view of the valley; whereas if I tried to make for the shoulder of the +hill (which had been my first intention) I might have wandered about +till nightfall. + +It was an old man in a valley called the Curicante in Colorado that +taught me this, if one lost one's way going _upwards_ to make at once +along the steepest line, but if one lost it going _downwards_, to +listen for water and reach it and follow it. I wish I had space to +tell all about this old man, who gave me hospitality out there. He was +from New England and was lonely, and had brought out at great expense +a musical box to cheer him. Of this he was very proud, and though it +only played four silly hymn tunes, yet, as he and I listened to it, +heavy tears came into his eyes and light tears into mine, because +these tunes reminded him of his home. But I have no time to do more +than mention him, and must return to my forest. + +I climbed, then, over slippery pine needles and under the charged air +of those trees, which was full of dim, slanting light from the +afternoon sun, till, nearly at the summit, I came upon a clearing +which I at once recognized as a military road, leading to what we used +to call a 'false battery', that is, a dug-out with embrasures into +which guns could be placed but in which no guns were. For ever since +the French managed to produce a really mobile heavy gun they have +constructed any amount of such auxiliary works between the permanent +forts. These need no fixed guns to be emplaced, since the French can +use now one such parapet, now another, as occasion serves, and the +advantage is that your guns are never useless, but can always be +brought round where they are needed, and that thus six guns will do +more work than twenty used to do. + +This false battery was on the brow of the hill, and when I reached it +I looked down the slope, over the brushwood that hid the wire +entanglements, and there was the whole valley of the Moselle at my +feet. + +As this was the first really great height, so this was the first +really great view that I met with on my pilgrimage. I drew it +carefully, piece by piece, sitting there a long time in the declining +sun and noting all I saw. Archettes, just below; the flat valley with +the river winding from side to side; the straight rows of poplar +trees; the dark pines on the hills, and the rounded mountains rising" +farther and higher into the distance until the last I saw, far off to +the south-east, must have been the Ballon d'Alsace at the sources of +the Moselle--the hill that marked the first full stage in my journey +and that overlooked Switzerland. + +Indeed, this is the peculiar virtue of walking to a far place, and +especially of walking there in a straight line, that one gets these +visions of the world from hill-tops. + +When I call up for myself this great march I see it all mapped out in +landscapes, each of which I caught from some mountain, and each of +which joins on to that before and to that after it, till I can piece +together the whole road. The view here from the Hill of Archettes, the +view from the Ballon d'Alsace, from Glovelier Hill, from the +Weissenstein, from the Brienzer Grat, from the Grimsel, from above +Bellinzona, from the Princi-pessa, from Tizzano, from the ridge of the +Apennines, from the Wall of Siena, from San Quirico, from Radicofani, +from San Lorenzo, from Monte-fiascone, from above Viterbo, from +Roncigleone, and at last from that lift in the Via Cassia, whence one +suddenly perceives the City. They unroll themselves all in their order +till I can see Europe, and Rome shining at the end. + +But you who go in railways are necessarily shut up in long valleys and +even sometimes by the walls of the earth. Even those who bicycle or +drive see these sights but rarely and with no consecution, since roads +also avoid climbing save where they are forced to it, as over certain +passes. It is only by following the straight line onwards that any one +can pass from ridge to ridge and have this full picture of the way he +has been. + +So much for views. I clambered down the hill to Archettes and saw, +almost the first house, a swinging board 'At the sign of the Trout of +the Vosges', and as it was now evening I turned in there to dine. + +Two things I noticed at once when I sat down to meat. First, that the +people seated at that inn table were of the middle-class of society, +and secondly, that I, though of their rank, was an impediment to their +enjoyment. For to sleep in woods, to march some seventy miles, the +latter part in a dazzling sun, and to end by sliding down an earthy +steep into the road, stamps a man with all that this kind of people +least desire to have thrust upon them. And those who blame the +middle-class for their conventions in such matters, and who profess to +be above the care for cleanliness and clothes and social ritual which +marks the middle-class, are either anarchists by nature, or fools who +take what is but an effect of their wealth for a natural virtue. + +I say it roundly; if it were not for the punctiliousness of the +middle-class in these matters all our civilization would go to pieces. +They are the conservators and the maintainers of the standard, the +moderators of Europe, the salt of society. For the kind of man who +boasts that he does not mind dirty clothes or roughing it, is either a +man who cares nothing for all that civilization has built up and who +rather hates it, or else (and this is much more common) he is a rich +man, or accustomed to live among the rich, and can afford to waste +energy and stuff because he feels in a vague way that more clothes can +always be bought, that at the end of his vagabondism he can get +excellent dinners, and that London and Paris are full of luxurious +baths and barber shops. Of all the corrupting effects of wealth there +is none worse than this, that it makes the wealthy (and their +parasites) think in some way divine, or at least a lovely character of +the mind, what is in truth nothing but their power of luxurious +living. Heaven keep us all from great riches--I mean from very great +riches. + +Now the middle-class cannot afford to buy new clothes whenever they +feel inclined, neither can they end up a jaunt by a Turkish bath and a +great feast with wine. So their care is always to preserve intact what +they happen to have, to exceed in nothing, to study cleanliness, +order, decency, sobriety, and a steady temper, and they fence all this +round and preserve it in the only way it can be preserved, to wit, +with conventions, and they are quite right. + +I find it very hard to keep up to the demands of these my colleagues, +but I recognize that they are on the just side in the quarrel; let +none of them go about pretending that I have not defended them in this +book. + +So I thought of how I should put myself right with these people. I saw +that an elaborate story (as, that I had been set upon by a tramp who +forced me to change clothes: that I dressed thus for a bet: that I was +an officer employed as a spy, and was about to cross the frontier into +Germany in the guise of a labourer: that my doctor forbade me to +shave--or any other such rhodo-montade): I saw, I say, that by +venturing upon any such excuses I might unwittingly offend some other +unknown canon of theirs deeper and more sacred than their rule on +clothes; it had happened to me before now to do this in the course of +explanations. + +So I took another method, and said, as I sat down-- + +'Pray excuse this appearance of mine. I have had a most unfortunate +adventure in the hills, losing my way and being compelled to sleep out +all night, nor can I remain to get tidy, as it is essential that I +should reach my luggage (which is at Remiremont) before midnight.' + +I took great care to pay for my glass of white wine before dinner with +a bank-note, and I showed my sketches to my neighbour to make an +impression. I also talked of foreign politics, of the countries I had +seen, of England especially, with such minute exactitude that their +disgust was soon turned to admiration. + +The hostess of this inn was delicate and courteous to a degree, and at +every point attempting to overreach her guests, who, as regularly as +she attacked, countered with astonishing dexterity. + +Thus she would say: 'Perhaps the joint would taste better if it were +carved on the table; or do the gentlemen prefer it carved aside?' + +To which a banker opposite me said in a deep voice: 'We prefer, madam, +to have it carved aside.' + +Or she would put her head in and say: 'I can recommend our excellent +beer. It is really preferable to this local wine.' + +And my neighbour, a tourist, answered with decision: 'Madame, we find +your wine excellent. It could not be bettered.' + +Nor could she get round them on a single point, and I pitied her so +much that I bought bread and wine off her to console her, and I let +her overcharge me, and went out into the afterglow with her +benediction, followed also by the farewells of the middle-class, who +were now taking their coffee at little tables outside the house. + +I went hard up the road to Remiremont. The night darkened. I reached +Remiremont at midnight, and feeling very wakeful I pushed on up the +valley under great woods of pines; and at last, diverging up a little +path, I settled on a clump of trees sheltered and, as I thought, warm, +and lay down there to sleep till morning; but, on the contrary, I lay +awake a full hour in the fragrance and on the level carpet of the pine +needles looking up through the dark branches at the waning moon, which +had just risen, and thinking of how suitable were pine-trees for a man +to sleep under. + +'The beech,' I thought, 'is a good tree to sleep under, for nothing +will grow there, and there is always dry beech-mast; the yew would be +good if it did not grow so low, but, all in all, pine-trees are the +best.' I also considered that the worst tree to sleep under would be +the upas tree. These thoughts so nearly bordered on nothing that, +though I was not sleepy, yet I fell asleep. Long before day, the moon +being still lustrous against a sky that yet contained a few faint +stars, I awoke shivering with cold. + +In sleep there is something diminishes us. This every one has noticed; +for who ever suffered a nightmare awake, or felt in full consciousness +those awful impotencies which lie on the other side of slumber? When +we lie down we give ourselves voluntarily, yet by the force of nature, +to powers before which we melt and are nothing. And among the strange +frailties of sleep I have noticed cold. + +Here was a warm place under the pines where I could rest in great +comfort on pine needles still full of the day; a covering for the +beasts underground that love an even heat--the best of floors for a +tired man. Even the slight wind that blew under the waning moon was +warm, and the stars were languid and not brilliant, as though +everything were full of summer, and I knew that the night would be +short; a midsummer night; and I had lived half of it before attempting +repose. Yet, I say, I woke shivering and also disconsolate, needing +companionship. I pushed down through tall, rank grass, drenched with +dew, and made my way across the road to the bank of the river. By the +time I reached it the dawn began to occupy the east. + +For a long time I stood in a favoured place, just above a bank of +trees that lined the river, and watched the beginning of the day, +because every slow increase of light promised me sustenance. + +The faint, uncertain glimmer that seemed not so much to shine through +the air as to be part of it, took all colour out of the woods and +fields and the high slopes above me, leaving them planes of grey and +deeper grey. The woods near me were a silhouette, black and +motionless, emphasizing the east beyond. The river was white and +dead, not even a steam rose from it, but out of the further pastures a +gentle mist had lifted up and lay all even along the flanks of the +hills, so that they rose out of it, indistinct at their bases, +clear-cut above against the brightening sky; and the farther they were +the more their mouldings showed in the early light, and the most +distant edges of all caught the morning. + +At this wonderful sight I gazed for quite half-an-hour without moving, +and took in vigour from it as a man takes in food and wine. When I +stirred and looked about me it had become easy to see the separate +grasses; a bird or two had begun little interrupted chirrups in the +bushes, a day-breeze broke from up the valley ruffling the silence, +the moon was dead against the sky, and the stars had disappeared. In a +solemn mood I regained the road and turned my face towards the +neighbouring sources of the river. + +I easily perceived with each laborious mile that I was approaching the +end of my companionship with the Moselle, which had become part of my +adventure for the last eighty miles. It was now a small stream, +mountainous and uncertain, though in parts still placid and slow. +There appeared also that which I take to be an infallible +accompaniment of secluded glens and of the head waters of rivers +(however canalized or even overbuilt they are), I mean a certain +roughness all about them and the stout protest of the hill-men: their +stone cottages and their lonely paths off the road. + +So it was here. The hills had grown much higher and come closer to the +river-plain; up the gullies I would catch now and then an aged and +uncouth bridge with a hut near it all built of enduring stone: part of +the hills. Then again there were present here and there on the spurs +lonely chapels, and these in Catholic countries are a mark of the +mountains and of the end of the riches of a valley. Why this should be +so I cannot tell. You find them also sometimes in forests, but +especially in the lesser inlets of the sea-coast, and, as I have said, +here in the upper parts of valleys in the great hills. In such shrines +Mass is to be said but rarely, sometimes but once a year in a special +commemoration. The rest of the time they stand empty, and some of the +older or simpler, one might take for ruins. They mark everywhere some +strong emotion of supplication, thanks, or reverence, and they anchor +these wild places to their own past, making them up in memories what +they lack in multitudinous life. + +I broke my fast on bread and wine at a place where the road crosses +the river, and then I determined I would have hot coffee as well, and +seeing in front of me a village called Rupt, which means 'the cleft' +(for there is here a great cleft in the hillside), I went up to it and +had my coffee. Then I discovered a singular thing, that the people of +the place are tired of making up names and give nothing its peculiar +baptism. This I thought really very wonderful indeed, for I have +noticed wherever I have been that in proportion as men are remote and +have little to distract them, in that proportion they produce a great +crop of peculiar local names for every stream, reach, tuft, hummock, +glen, copse, and gully for miles around; and often when I have lost my +way and asked it of a peasant in some lonely part I have grown +impatient as he wandered on about 'leaving on your left the stone we +call the Nuggin, and bearing round what some call Holy Dyke till you +come to what they call Mary's Ferry'... and so forth. Long-shoremen +and the riparian inhabitants of dreadful and lonely rivers near the +sea have just such a habit, and I have in my mind's eye now a short +stretch of tidal water in which there are but five shoals, yet they +all have names, and are called 'The House, the Knowle, Goodman's Plot, +Mall, and the Patch.' + +But here in Rupt, to my extreme astonishment, there was no such +universal and human instinct. For I said to the old man who poured me +out my coffee under the trellis (it was full morning, the sun was well +up, and the clouds were all dappled high above the tops of the +mountains): 'Father, what do you call this hill?' And with that I +pointed to a very remarkable hill and summit that lie sheer above the +village. + +'That,' he said, 'is called the hill over above Rupt.' + +'Yes, of course,' I said, 'but what is its name?' + +'That is its name,' he answered. + +And he was quite right, for when I looked at my map, there it was +printed, 'Hill above Rupt'. I thought how wearisome it would be if +this became a common way of doing things, and if one should call the +Thames 'the River of London', and Essex 'the North side', and Kent +'the South side'; but considering that this fantastic method was only +indulged in by one wretched village, I released myself from fear, +relegated such horrors to the colonies, and took the road again. + +All this upper corner of the valley is a garden. It is bound in on +every side from the winds, it is closed at the end by the great mass +of the Ballon d'Alsace, its floor is smooth and level, its richness is +used to feed grass and pasturage, and knots of trees grow about it as +though they had been planted to please the eye. + +Nothing can take from the sources of rivers their character of +isolation and repose. Here what are afterwards to become the +influences of the plains are nurtured and tended as though in an +orchard, and the future life of a whole fruitful valley with its regal +towns is determined. Something about these places prevents ingress or +spoliation. They will endure no settlements save of peasants; the +waters are too young to be harnessed; the hills forbid an easy +commerce with neighbours. Throughout the world I have found the heads +of rivers to be secure places of silence and content. And as they are +themselves a kind of youth, the early home of all that rivers must at +last become--I mean special ways of building and a separate state of +living, a local air and a tradition of history, for rivers are always +the makers of provinces--so they bring extreme youth back to one, and +these upper glens of the world steep one in simplicity and childhood. + +It was my delight to lie upon a bank of the road and to draw what I +saw before me, which was the tender stream of the Moselle slipping +through fields quite flat and even and undivided by fences; its banks +had here a strange effect of Nature copying man's art: they seemed a +park, and the river wound through it full of the positive innocence +that attaches to virgins: it nourished and was guarded by trees. + +There was about that scene something of creation and of a beginning, +and as I drew it, it gave me like a gift the freshness of the first +experiences of living and filled me with remembered springs. I mused +upon the birth of rivers, and how they were persons and had a +name--were kings, and grew strong and ruled great countries, and how +at last they reached the sea. + +But while I was thinking of these things, and seeing in my mind a kind +of picture of The River Valley, and of men clustering around their +home stream, and of its ultimate vast plains on either side, and of +the white line of the sea beyond all, a woman passed me. She was very +ugly, and was dressed in black. Her dress was stiff and shining, and, +as I imagined, valuable. She had in her hand a book known to the +French as 'The Roman Parishioner', which is a prayer-book. Her hair +was hidden in a stiff cap or bonnet; she walked rapidly, with her eyes +on the ground. When I saw this sight it reminded me suddenly, and I +cried out profanely, 'Devil take me! It is Corpus Christi, and my +third day out. It would be a wicked pilgrimage if I did not get Mass +at last.' For my first day (if you remember) I had slept in a wood +beyond Mass-time, and my second (if you remember) I had slept in a +bed. But this third day, a great Feast into the bargain, I was bound +to hear Mass, and this woman hurrying along to the next village proved +that I was not too late. + +So I hurried in her wake and came to the village, and went into the +church, which was very full, and came down out of it (the Mass was low +and short--they are a Christian people) through an avenue of small +trees and large branches set up in front of the houses to welcome the +procession that was to be held near noon. At the foot of the street +was an inn where I entered to eat, and finding there another man--I +take him to have been a shopkeeper--I determined to talk politics, and +began as follows: + +'Have you any anti-Semitism in your town?' + +'It is not my town,' he said, 'but there is anti-Semitism. It +flourishes.' + +'Why then?' I asked. 'How many Jews have you in your town?' + +He said there were seven. + +'But,' said I, 'seven families of Jews--' + +'There are not seven families,' he interrupted; 'there are seven Jews +all told. There are but two families, and I am reckoning in the +children. The servants are Christians.' + +'Why,' said I, 'that is only just and proper, that the Jewish families +from beyond the frontier should have local Christian people to wait on +them and do their bidding. But what I was going to say was that so +very few Jews seem to me an insufficient fuel to fire the +anti-Semites. How does their opinion flourish?' + +'In this way,' he answered. 'The Jews, you see, ridicule our young men +for holding such superstitions as the Catholic. Our young men, thus +brought to book and made to feel irrational, admit the justice of the +ridicule, but nourish a hatred secretly for those who have exposed +their folly. Therefore they feel a standing grudge against the Jews.' + +When he had given me this singular analysis of that part of the +politics of the mountains, he added, after a short silence, the +following remarkable phrase-- + +'For my part I am a liberal, and would have each go his own way: the +Catholic to his Mass, the Jew to his Sacrifice.' + +I then rose from my meal, saluted him, and went musing up the valley +road, pondering upon what it could be that the Jews sacrificed in this +remote borough, but I could not for the life of me imagine what it +was, though I have had a great many Jews among my friends. + +I was now arrived at the head of this lovely vale, at the sources of +the river Moselle and the base of the great mountain the Ballon +d'Alsace, which closes it in like a wall at the end of a lane. For +some miles past the hills had grown higher and higher upon either +side, the valley floor narrower, the torrent less abundant; there now +stood up before me the marshy slopes and the enormous forests of pine +that forbid a passage south. Up through these the main road has been +pierced, tortuous and at an even gradient mile after mile to the very +top of the hill; for the Ballon d'Alsace is so shaped that it is +impossible for the Moselle valley to communicate with the Gap of +Belfort save by some track right over its summit. For it is a mountain +with spurs like a star, and where mountains of this kind block the end +of main valleys it becomes necessary for the road leading up and out +of the valley to go over their highest point, since any other road +over the passes or shoulders would involve a second climb to reach the +country beyond. The reason of this, my little map here, where the dark +stands for the valley and the light for the high places, will show +better than a long description. Not that this map is of the Ballon +d'Alsace in particular, but only of the type of hill I mean. + +Since, in crossing a range, it is usually possible to find a low point +suitable for surmounting it, such summit roads are rare, but when one +does get them they are the finest travel in the world, for they +furnish at one point (that is, at the summit) what ordinary roads +going through passes can never give you: a moment of domination. From +their climax you look over the whole world, and you feel your journey +to be adventurous and your advance to have taken some great definite +step from one province and people to another. + +I would not be bound by the exaggerated zig-zags of the road, which +had been built for artillery, and rose at an easy slope. I went along +the bed of the dell before me and took the forest by a little path +that led straight upward, and when the path failed, my way was marked +by the wire of the telegraph that crosses to Belfort. As I rose I saw +the forest before me grow grander. The pine branches came down from +the trunks with a greater burden and majesty in their sway, the trees +took on an appearance of solemnity, and the whole rank that faced +me--for here the woods come to an even line and stand like an army +arrested upon a downward march -- seemed something unusual and +gigantic. Nothing more helped this impression of awe than the extreme +darkness beneath those aged growths, and the change in the sky that +introduced my entry into the silence and perfume of so vast a temple. +Great clouds, so charged with rain that you would have thought them +lower than the hills (and yet just missing their tops), came covering +me like a tumbled roof and gathered all around; the heat of the day +waned suddenly in their shade: it seemed suddenly as though summer was +over or as though the mountains demanded an uncertain summer of their +own, and shot the sunshine with the chill of their heights. A little +wind ran along the grass and died again. As I gained the darkness of +the first trees, rain was falling. + +The silence of the interior wood was enhanced by a bare drip of water +from the boughs that stood out straight and tangled I know not how far +above me. Its gloom was rendered more tremendous by the half-light +and lowering of the sky which the ceiling of branches concealed. +Height, stillness, and a sort of expectancy controlled the memories of +the place, and I passed silently and lightly between the high columns +of the trees from night (as it seemed) through a kind of twilight +forward to a near night beyond. On every side the perspective of these +bare innumerable shafts, each standing apart in order, purple and +fragrant, merged into recesses of distance where all light +disappeared, yet as I advanced the slight gloaming still surrounded +me, as did the stillness framed in the drip of water, and beneath my +feet was the level carpet of the pine needles deadening and making +distant every tiny noise. Had not the trees been so much greater and +more enduring than my own presence, and had not they overwhelmed me by +their regard, I should have felt afraid. As it was I pushed upward +through their immovable host in some such catching of the breath as +men have when they walk at night straining for a sound, and I felt +myself to be continually in a hidden companionship. + +When I came to the edge of this haunted forest it ceased as suddenly +as it had begun. I left behind me such a rank of trees aligned as I +had entered thousands of feet below, and I saw before me, stretching +shapely up to the sky, the round dome-like summit of the mountain--a +great field of grass. It was already evening; and, as though the tall +trees had withdrawn their virtue from me, my fatigue suddenly came +upon me. My feet would hardly bear me as I clambered up the last +hundred feet and looked down under the rolling clouds, lit from +beneath by the level light of evening, to the three countries that met +at my feet. + +For the Ballon d'Alsace is the knot of Europe, and from that gathering +up and ending of the Vosges you look down upon three divisions of men. +To the right of you are the Gauls. I do not mean that mixed breed of +Lorraine, silent, among the best of people, but I mean the tree Gauls, +who are hot, ready, and born in the plains and in the vineyards. They +stand in their old entrenchments on either side of the Saône and are +vivacious in battle; from time to time a spirit urges them, and they +go out conquering eastward in the Germanics, or in Asia, or down the +peninsulas of the Mediterranean, and then they suck back like a tide +homewards, having accomplished nothing but an epic. + +Then on the left you have all the Germanics, a great sea of confused +and dreaming people, lost in philosophies and creating music, frozen +for the moment under a foreign rigidity, but some day to thaw again +and to give a word to us others. They cannot long remain apart from +visions. + +Then in front of you southward and eastward, if you are marching to +Rome, come the Highlanders. I had never been among them, and I was to +see them in a day; the people of the high hills, the race whom we all +feel to be enemies, and who run straight across the world from the +Atlantic to the Pacific, understanding each other, not understood by +us. I saw their first rampart, the mountains called the Jura, on the +horizon, and above my great field of view the clouds still tumbled, +lit from beneath with evening. + +I tired of these immensities, and, feeling now my feet more broken +than ever, I very slowly and in sharp shoots of pain dragged down the +slope towards the main road: I saw just below me the frontier stones +of the Prussians, and immediately within them a hut. To this I +addressed myself. + +It was an inn. The door opened of itself, and I found there a pleasant +woman of middle age, but frowning. She had three daughters, all of +great strength, and she was upbraiding them loudly in the German of +Alsace and making them scour and scrub. On the wall above her head was +a great placard which I read very tactfully, and in a distant manner, +until she had restored the discipline of her family. This great +placard was framed in the three colours which once brought a little +hope to the oppressed, and at the head of it in broad black letters +were the three words, 'Freedom, Brotherhood, and an Equal Law'. +Underneath these was the emblematic figure of a cock, which I took to +be the Gallic bird, and underneath him again was printed in enormous +italics-- + + Quand ce coq chantera + Ici crédit l'on fera. + +Which means-- + + When you hear him crowing + Then's the time for owing. + Till that day--Pay. + +While I was still wondering at this epitome of the French people, and +was attempting to combine the French military tradition with the +French temper in the affairs of economics; while I was also delighting +in the memory of the solid coin that I carried in a little leathern +bag in my pocket, the hard-working, God-fearing, and honest woman that +governs the little house and the three great daughters, within a yard +of the frontier, and on the top of this huge hill, had brought back +all her troops into line and had the time to attend to me. This she +did with the utmost politeness, though cold by race, and through her +politeness ran a sense of what Teutons called Duty, which would once +have repelled me; but I have wandered over a great part of the world, +and I know it now to be a distorted kind of virtue. + +She was of a very different sort from that good tribe of the Moselle +valley beyond the hill; yet she also was Catholic-- (she had a little +tree set up before her door for the Corpus Christi: see what religion +is, that makes people of utterly different races understand each +other; for when I saw that tree I knew precisely where I stood. So +once all we Europeans understood each other, but now we are divided by +the worst malignancies of nations and classes, and a man does not so +much love his own nation as hate his neighbours, and even the twilight +of chivalry is mixed up with a detestable patronage of the poor. But +as I was saying--) she also was a Catholic, and I knew myself to be +with friends. She was moreover not exactly of- what shall I say? the +words Celtic and Latin mean nothing-- not of those who delight in a +delicate manner; and her good heart prompted her to say, very loudly-- + +'What do you want?' + +'I want a bed,' I said, and I pulled out a silver coin. 'I must lie +down at once.' + +Then I added, 'Can you make omelettes?' + +Now it is a curious thing, and one I will not dwell on-- + +LECTOR. You do nothing but dwell. + +AUCTOR. It is the essence of lonely travel; and if you have come to +this book for literature you have come to the wrong booth and counter. +As I was saying: it is a curious thing that some people (or races) +jump from one subject to another naturally, as some animals (I mean +the noble deer) go by bounds. While there are other races (or +individuals--heaven forgive me, I am no ethnologist) who think you a +criminal or a lunatic unless you carefully plod along from step to +step like a hippopotamus out of water. When, therefore, I asked this +family-drilling, house-managing, mountain-living woman whether she +could make omelettes, she shook her head at me slowly, keeping her +eyes fixed on mine, and said in what was the corpse of French with a +German ghost in it, 'The bed is a franc.' + +'Motherkin,' I answered, 'what I mean is that I would sleep until I +wake, for I have come a prodigious distance and have last slept in the +woods. But when I wake I shall need food, for which,' I added, pulling +out yet another coin, 'I will pay whatever your charge may be; for a +more delightful house I have rarely met with. I know most people do +not sleep before sunset, but I am particularly tired and broken.' + +She showed me my bed then much more kindly, and when I woke, which was +long after dusk, she gave me in the living room of the hut eggs beaten +up with ham, and I ate brown bread and said grace. + +Then (my wine was not yet finished, but it is an abominable thing to +drink your own wine in another person's house) I asked whether I could +have something to drink. + +'What you like,' she said. + +'What have you?' said I. + +'Beer,' said she. + +'Anything else?' said I. + +'No,' said she. + +'Why, then, give me some of that excellent beer.' + +I drank this with delight, paid all my bill (which was that of a +labourer), and said good-night to them. + +In good-nights they had a ceremony; for they all rose together and +curtsied. Upon my soul I believe such people to be the salt of the +earth. I bowed with real contrition, for at several moments I had +believed myself better than they. Then I went to my bed and they to +theirs. The wind howled outside; my boots were stiff like wood and I +could hardly take them off; my feet were so martyrized that I doubted +if I could walk at all on the morrow. Nevertheless I was so wrapped +round with the repose of this family's virtues that I fell asleep at +once. Next day the sun was rising in angry glory over the very distant +hills of Germany, his new light running between the pinnacles of the +clouds as the commands of a conqueror might come trumpeted down the +defiles of mountains, when I fearlessly forced my boots on to my feet +and left their doors. + +The morning outside came living and sharp after the gale--almost +chilly. Under a scattered but clearing sky I first limped, then, as +my blood warmed, strode down the path that led between the trees of +the farther vale and was soon following a stream that leaped from one +fall to another till it should lead me to the main road, to Belfort, +to the Jura, to the Swiss whom I had never known, and at last to +Italy. + +But before I call up the recollection of that hidden valley, I must +describe with a map the curious features of the road that lay before +me into Switzerland. I was standing on the summit of that knot of +hills which rise up from every side to form the Ballon d'Alsace, and +make an abrupt ending to the Vosges. Before me, southward and +eastward, was a great plain with the fortress of Belfort in the midst +of it. This plain is called by soldiers 'the Gap of Belfort', and is +the only break in the hill frontier that covers France all the way +from the Mediterranean to Flanders. On the farther side of this plain +ran the Jura mountains, which are like a northern wall to Switzerland, +and just before you reach them is the Frontier. The Jura are fold on +fold of high limestone ridges, thousands of feet high, all parallel, +with deep valleys, thousands of feet deep, between them; and beyond +their last abrupt escarpment is the wide plain of the river Aar. + +Now the straight line to Rome ran from where I stood, right across +that plain of Belfort, right across the ridges of the Jura, and cut +the plain of the Aar a few miles to the west of a town called +Solothurn or Soleure, which stands upon that river. + +It was impossible to follow that line exactly, but one could average +it closely enough by following the high road down the mountain through +Belfort to a Swiss town called Porrentruy or Portrut--so far one was a +little to the west of the direct line. + +From Portrut, by picking one's way through forests, up steep banks, +over open downs, along mule paths, and so forth, one could cross the +first ridge called the 'Terrible Hill', and so reach the profound +gorge of the river Doubs, and a town called St Ursanne. From St +Ursanne, by following a mountain road and then climbing some rocks and +tracking through a wood, one could get straight over the second ridge +to Glovelier. From Glovelier a highroad took one through a gap to +Undervelier and on to a town called Moutier or Munster. Then from +Munster, the road, still following more or less the line to Rome but +now somewhat to the east of it, went on southward till an abrupt turn +in it forced one to leave it. Then there was another rough climb by a +difficult path up over the last ridge, called the Weissenstein, and +from its high edge and summit it was but a straight fall of a mile or +two on to Soleure. + +So much my map told me, and this mixture of roads and paths and rock +climbs that I had planned out, I exactly followed, so as to march on +as directly as possible towards Rome, which was my goal. For if I had +not so planned it, but had followed the highroads, I should have been +compelled to zig-zag enormously for days, since these ridges of the +Jura are but little broken, and the roads do not rise above the +crests, but follow the parallel valleys, taking advantage only here +and there of the rare gaps to pass from one to another. + +Here is a sketch of the way I went, where my track is a white line, +and the round spots in it are the towns and villages whose names are +written at the side. In this sketch the plains and low valleys are +marked dark, and the crests of the mountains left white. The shading +is lighter according to the height, and the contour lines (which are +very far from accurate) represent, I suppose, about a thousand feet +between each, or perhaps a little more; and as for the distance, from +the Ballon d'Alsace to Soleure might be two long days' march on a flat +road, but over mountains and up rocks it was all but three, and even +that was very good going. My first stage was across the plain of +Belfort, and I had determined to sleep that night in Switzerland. + +I wandered down the mountain. A little secret path, one of many, saved +me the long windings of the road. It followed down the central hollow +of the great cleft and accompanied the stream. All the way for miles +the water tumbled in fall after fall over a hundred steps of rock, and +its noise mixed with the freshness of the air, and its splashing +weighted the overhanging branches of the trees. A little rain that +fell from time to time through the clear morning seemed like a sister +to the spray of the waterfalls; and what with all this moisture and +greenery, and the surrounding silence, all the valley was inspired +with content. It was a repose to descend through its leaves and +grasses, and find the lovely pastures at the foot of the descent, a +narrow floor between the hills. Here there were the first houses of +men; and, from one, smoke was already going up thinly into the +morning. The air was very pure and cold; it was made more nourishing +and human by the presence and noise of the waters, by the shining wet +grasses and the beaded leaves all through that umbrageous valley. The +shreds of clouds which, high above the calm, ran swiftly in the upper +air, fed it also with soft rains from time to time as fine as dew; and +through those clear and momentary showers one could see the sunlight. + +When I had enjoyed the descent through this place for but a few miles, +everything changed. The road in front ran straight and bordered--it +led out and onwards over a great flat, set here and there with +hillocks. The Vosges ended abruptly. Houses came more thickly, and by +the ceaseless culture of the fields, by the flat slate roofs, the +white-washed walls, and the voices, and the glare, I knew myself to be +once more in France of the plains; and the first town I came to was +Giromagny. + +Here, as I heard a bell, I thought I would go up and hear Mass; and I +did so, but my attention at the holy office was distracted by the +enormous number of priests that I found in the church, and I have +wondered painfully ever since how so many came to be in a little place +like Giromagny. There were three priests at the high altar, and nearly +one for each chapel, and there was such a buzz of Masses going on, +beginning and ending, that I am sure I need not have gone without my +breakfast in my hurry to get one. With all this there were few people +at Mass so early; nothing but these priests going in and out, and +continual little bells. I am still wondering. Giromagny is no place +for relics or for a pilgrimage, it cures no one, and has nothing of a +holy look about it, and all these priests-- + +LECTOR. Pray dwell less on your religion, and-- + +AUCTOR. Pray take books as you find them, and treat travel as travel. +For you, when you go to a foreign country, see nothing but what you +expect to see. But I am astonished at a thousand accidents, and always +find things twenty-fold as great as I supposed they would be, and far +more curious; the whole covered by a strange light of adventure. And +that is the peculiar value of this book. Now, if you can explain these +priests--- + +LECTOR. I can. It was the season of the year, and they were swarming. + +AUCTOR. So be it. Then if you will hear nothing of what interests me, +I see no reason for setting down with minute care what interests you, +and I may leave out all mention of the Girl who could only speak +German, of the Arrest of the Criminal, and even of the House of +Marshal Turenne--- this last something quite exceptionally +entertaining. But do not let us continue thus, nor push things to an +open quarrel. You must imagine for yourself about six miles of road, +and then--then in the increasing heat, the dust rising in spite of the +morning rain, and the road most wearisome, I heard again the sound of +bugles and the sombre excitement of the drums. + +It is a thought-provoking thing, this passing from one great garrison +to another all the way down the frontier. I had started from the busy +order of Toul; I had passed through the silence and peace of all that +Moselle country, the valley like a long garden, and I had come to the +guns and the tramp of Épinal. I had left Épinal and counted the miles +and miles of silence in the forests, I had crossed the great hills and +come down into quite another plain draining to another sea, and I +heard again all the clamour that goes with soldiery, and looking +backward then over my four days, one felt--one almost saw--the new +system of fortification, the vast entrenched camps each holding an +army, the ungarnished gaps between. + +As I came nearer to Belfort, I saw the guns going at a trot down a +side road, and, a little later, I saw marching on my right, a long way +off, the irregular column, the dust and the invincible gaiety of the +French line. The sun here and there glinted on the ends of +rifle-barrels and the polished pouches. Their heavy pack made their +tramp loud and thudding. They were singing a song. + +I had already passed the outer forts; I had noted a work close to the +road; I had gone on a mile or so and had entered the long and ugly +suburb where the tramway lines began, when, on one of the ramshackle +houses of that burning, paved, and noisy endless street, I saw written +up the words, + +Wine; shut or open. + +As it is a great rule to examine every new thing, and to suck honey +out of every flower, I did not--as some would--think the phrase odd +and pass on. I stood stock-still gazing at the house and imagining a +hundred explanations. I had never in my life heard wine divided into +shut and open wine. I determined to acquire yet one more great +experience, and going in I found a great number of tin cans, such as +the French carry up water in, without covers, tapering to the top, and +standing about three feet high; on these were pasted large printed +labels, '30', '40', and '50', and they were brimming with wine. I +spoke to the woman, and pointing at the tin cans, said-- + +'Is this what you call open wine?' + +'Why, yes,' said she. 'Cannot you see for yourself that it is open?' + +That was true enough, and it explained a great deal. But it did not +explain how--seeing that if you leave a bottle of wine uncorked for +ten minutes you spoil it--you can keep gallons of it in a great wide +can, for all the world like so much milk, milked from the Panthers of +the God. I determined to test the prodigy yet further, and choosing +the middle price, at fourpence a quart, I said-- + +'Pray give me a hap'orth in a mug.' + +This the woman at once did, and when I came to drink it, it was +delicious. Sweet, cool, strong, lifting the heart, satisfying, and +full of all those things wine-merchants talk of, bouquet, and body, +and flavour. It was what I have heard called a very pretty wine. + +I did not wait, however, to discuss the marvel, but accepted it as one +of those mysteries of which this pilgrimage was already giving me +examples, and of which more were to come--(wait till you hear about +the brigand of Radicofani). I said to myself- + +'When I get out of the Terre Majeure, and away from the strong and +excellent government of the Republic, when I am lost in the Jura Hills +to-morrow there will be no such wine as this.' + +So I bought a quart of it, corked it up very tight, put it in my sack, +and held it in store against the wineless places on the flanks of the +hill called Terrible, where there are no soldiers, and where Swiss is +the current language. Then I went on into the centre of the town. + +As I passed over the old bridge into the market-place, where I +proposed to lunch (the sun was terrible--it was close upon eleven), I +saw them building parallel with that old bridge a new one to replace +it. And the way they build a bridge in Belfort is so wonderfully +simple, and yet so new, that it is well worth telling. + +In most places when a bridge has to be made, there is an infinite +pother and worry about building the piers, coffer-dams, and heaven +knows what else. Some swing their bridges to avoid this trouble, and +some try to throw an arch of one span from side to side. There are a +thousand different tricks. In Belfort they simply wait until the water +has run away. Then a great brigade of workmen run down into the dry +bed of the river and dig the foundations feverishly, and begin +building the piers in great haste. Soon the water comes back, but the +piers are already above it, and the rest of the work is done from +boats. This is absolutely true. Not only did I see the men in the bed +of the river, but a man whom I asked told me that it seemed to him the +most natural way to build bridges, and doubted if they were ever made +in any other fashion. + +There is also in Belfort a great lion carved in rock to commemorate +the siege of 1870. This lion is part of the precipice under the +castle, and is of enormous size--- how large I do not know, but I saw +that a man looked quite small by one of his paws. The precipice was +first smoothed like a stone slab or tablet, and then this lion was +carved into and out of it in high relief by Bartholdi, the same man +that made the statue of Liberty in New York Harbour. + +The siege of 1870 has been fixed for history in yet another way, and +one that shows you how the Church works on from one stem continually. +For there is a little church somewhere near or in Belfort (I do not +know where, I only heard of it) which, a local mason and painter being +told to decorate for so much, he amused himself by painting all round +it little pictures of the siege--of the cold, and the wounds, and the +heroism. This is indeed the way such things should be done, I mean by +men doing them for pleasure and of their own thought. And I have a +number of friends who agree with me in thinking this, that art should +not be competitive or industrial, but most of them go on to the very +strange conclusion that one should not own one's garden, nor one's +beehive, nor one's great noble house, nor one's pigsty, nor one's +railway shares, nor the very boots on one's feet. I say, out upon such +nonsense. Then they say to me, what about the concentration of the +means of production? And I say to them, what about the distribution of +the ownership of the concentrated means of production? And they shake +their heads sadly, and say it would never endure; and I say, try it +first and see. Then they fly into a rage. + +When I lunched in Belfort (and at lunch, by the way, a poor man asked +me to use _all my influence_ for his son, who was an engineer in the +navy, and this he did because I had been boasting of my travels, +experiences, and grand acquaintances throughout the world)--when, I +say, I had lunched in a workman's cafe at Belfort, I set out again on +my road, and was very much put out to find that showers still kept on +falling. + +In the early morning, under such delightful trees, up in the +mountains, the branches had given me a roof, the wild surroundings +made me part of the out-of-doors, and the rain had seemed to marry +itself to the pastures and the foaming beck. But here, on a road and +in a town, all its tradition of discomfort came upon me. I was angry, +therefore, with the weather and the road for some miles, till two +things came to comfort me. First it cleared, and a glorious sun showed +me from a little eminence the plain of Alsace and the mountains of the +Vosges all in line; secondly, I came to a vast powder-magazine. + +To most people there is nothing more subtle or pleasing in a +powder-magazine than in a reservoir. They are both much the same in +the mere exterior, for each is a flat platform, sloping at the sides +and covered with grass, and each has mysterious doors. But, for my +part, I never see a powder-magazine without being filled at once with +two very good feelings--- laughter and companionship. For it was my +good fortune, years and years ago, to be companion and friend to two +men who were on sentry at a powder-magazine just after there had been +some anarchist attempts (as they call them) upon such depots--and for +the matter of that I can imagine nothing more luscious to the +anarchist than seven hundred and forty-two cases of powder and fifty +cases of melinite all stored in one place. And to prevent the enormous +noise, confusion, and waste that would have resulted from the +over-attraction of this base of operations to the anarchists, my two +friends, one of whom was a duty-doing Burgundian, but the other a +loose Parisian man, were on sentry that night. They had strict orders +to challenge once and then to fire. + +Now, can you imagine anything more exquisite to a poor devil of a +conscript, fagged out with garrison duty and stale sham-fighting, than +an order of that kind? So my friends took it, and in one summer night +they killed a donkey and wounded two mares, and broke the thin stem of +a growing tree. + +This powder-magazine was no exception to my rule, for as I approached +it I saw a round-faced corporal and two round-faced men looking +eagerly to see who might be attacking their treasure, and I became +quite genial in my mind when I thought of how proud these boys felt, +and of how I was of the 'class of ninety, rifled and mounted on its +carriage' (if you don't see the point of the allusion, I can't stop to +explain it. It was a good gun in its time--now they have the +seventy-five that doesn't recoil--_requiescat), _and of how they were +longing for the night, and a chance to shoot anything on the sky line. + +Full of these foolish thoughts, but smiling in spite of their folly, I +went down the road. + +Shall I detail all that afternoon? My leg horrified me with dull pain, +and made me fear I should never hold out, I do not say to Rome, but +even to the frontier. I rubbed it from time to time with balm, but, as +always happens to miraculous things, the virtue had gone out of it +with the lapse of time. At last I found a side road going off from +the main way, and my map told me it was on the whole a short cut to +the frontier. I determined to take it for those few last miles, +because, if one is suffering, a winding lane is more tolerable than a +wide turnpike. + +Just as I came to the branching of the roads I saw a cross put up, and +at its base the motto that is universal to French crosses-- + +_Ave Crux Spes Unica._ + +I thought it a good opportunity for recollection, and sitting down, I +looked backward along the road I had come. + +There were the high mountains of the Vosges standing up above the +plain of Alsace like sloping cliffs above a sea. I drew them as they +stood, and wondered if that frontier were really permanent. The mind +of man is greater than such accidents, and can easily overleap even +the high hills. + +Then having drawn them, and in that drawing said a kind of farewell to +the influences that had followed me for so many miles--the solemn +quiet, the steady industry, the self-control, the deep woods, of +Lorraine--1 rose up stiffly from the bank that had been my desk, and +pushed along the lane that ran devious past neglected villages. + +The afternoon and the evening followed as I put one mile after another +behind me. The frontier seemed so close that I would not rest. I left +my open wine, the wine I had found outside Belfort, untasted, and I +plodded on and on as the light dwindled. I was in a grand wonderment +for Switzerland, and I wished by an immediate effort to conquer the +last miles before night, in spite of my pain. Also, I will confess to +a silly pride in distances, and a desire to be out of France on my +fourth day. + +The light still fell, and my resolution stood, though my exhaustion +undermined it. The line of the mountains rose higher against the sky, +and there entered into my pilgrimage for the first time the loneliness +and the mystery of meres. Something of what a man feels in East +England belonged to this last of the plain under the guardian hills. +Everywhere I passed ponds and reeds, and saw the level streaks of +sunset reflected in stagnant waters. + +The marshy valley kept its character when I had left the lane and +regained the highroad. Its isolation dominated the last effort with +which I made for the line of the Jura in that summer twilight, and as +I blundered on my whole spirit was caught or lifted in the influence +of the waste waters and of the birds of evening. + +I wished, as I had often wished in such opportunities of recollection +and of silence, for a complete barrier that might isolate the mind. +With that wish came in a puzzling thought, very proper to a +pilgrimage, which was: 'What do men mean by the desire to be dissolved +and to enjoy the spirit free and without attachments?' That many men +have so desired there can be no doubt, and the best men, whose +holiness one recognizes at once, tell us that the joys of the soul are +incomparably higher than those of the living man. In India, moreover, +there are great numbers of men who do the most fantastic things with +the object of thus unprisoning the soul, and Milton talks of the same +thing with evident conviction, and the Saints all praise it in chorus. +But what is it? For my part I cannot understand so much as the meaning +of the words, for every pleasure I know comes from an intimate union +between my body and my very human mind, which last receives, confirms, +revives, and can summon up again what my body has experienced. Of +pleasures, however, in which my senses have had no part I know +nothing, so I have determined to take them upon trust and see whether +they could make the matter clearer in Rome. + +But when it comes to the immortal mind, the good spirit in me that is +so cunning at forms and colours and the reasons of things, that is a +very different story. _That_, I do indeed desire to have to myself at +whiles, and the waning light of a day or the curtains of autumn +closing in the year are often to me like a door shutting after one, as +one comes in home. For I find that with less and less impression from +without the mind seems to take on a power of creation, and by some +mystery it can project songs and landscapes and faces much more +desirable than the music or the shapes one really hears and sees. So +also memory can create. But it is not the soul that does this, for the +songs, the landscapes, and the faces are of a kind that have come in +by the senses, nor have I ever understood what could be higher than +these pleasures, nor indeed how in anything formless and immaterial +there could be pleasure at all. Yet the wisest people assure us that +our souls are as superior to our minds as are our minds to our inert +and merely material bodies. I cannot understand it at all. + +As I was pondering on these things in this land of pastures and lonely +ponds, with the wall of the Jura black against the narrow bars of +evening--(my pain seemed gone for a moment, yet I was hobbling +slowly)--I say as I was considering this complex doctrine, I felt my +sack suddenly much lighter, and I had hardly time to rejoice at the +miracle when I heard immediately a very loud crash, and turning half +round I saw on the blurred white of the twilit road my quart of Open +Wine all broken to atoms. My disappointment was so great that I sat +down on a milestone to consider the accident and to see if a little +thought would not lighten my acute annoyance. Consider that I had +carefully cherished this bottle and had not drunk throughout a painful +march all that afternoon, thinking that there would be no wine worth +drinking after I had passed the frontier. + +I consoled myself more or less by thinking about torments and evils to +which even such a loss as this was nothing, and then I rose to go on +into the night. As it turned out I was to find beyond the frontier a +wine in whose presence this wasted wine would have seemed a wretched +jest, and whose wonderful taste was to colour all my memories of the +Mount Terrible. It is always thus with sorrows if one will only wait. + +So, lighter in the sack but heavier in the heart, I went forward to +cross the frontier in the dark. I did not quite know where the point +came: I only knew that it was about a mile from Delle, the last French +town. I supped there and held on my way. When I guessed that I had +covered this mile I saw a light in the windows on my left, a trellis +and the marble tables of a cafe. I put my head in at the door and +said-- + +'Am I in Switzerland?' + +A German-looking girl, a large heavy man, a Bavarian commercial +traveller, and a colleague of his from Marseilles, all said together +in varying accents: 'Yes.' + +'Why then,' I said, 'I will come in and drink.' + +This book would never end if I were to attempt to write down so much +as the names of a quarter of the extraordinary things that I saw and +heard on my enchanted pilgrimage, but let me at least mention the +Commercial Traveller from Marseilles. + +He talked with extreme rapidity for two hours. He had seen all the +cities in the world and he remembered their minutest details. He was +extremely accurate, his taste was abominable, his patriotism large, +his wit crude but continual, and to his German friend, to the host of +the inn, and to the blonde serving-girl, he was a familiar god. He +came, it seems, once a year, and for a day would pour out the torrent +of his travels like a waterfall of guide-books (for he gloried in +dates, dimensions, and the points of the compass in his descriptions); +then he disappeared for another year, and left them to feast on the +memory of such a revelation. + +For my part I sat silent, crippled with fatigue, trying to forget my +wounded feet, drinking stoup after stoup of beer and watching the +Phocean. He was of the old race you see on vases in red and black; +slight, very wiry, with a sharp, eager, but well-set face, a small, +black, pointed beard, brilliant eyes like those of lizards, rapid +gestures, and a vivacity that played all over his features as sheet +lightning does over the glow of midnight in June. + +That delta of the Rhone is something quite separate from the rest of +France. It is a wedge of Greece and of the East thrust into the Gauls. +It came north a hundred years ago and killed the monarchy. It caught +the value in, and created, the great war song of the Republic. + +I watched the Phocean. I thought of a man of his ancestry three +thousand years ago sitting here at the gates of these mountains +talking of his travels to dull, patient, and admiring northerners, and +travelling for gain up on into the Germanics, and I felt the +changeless form of Europe under me like a rock. + +When he heard I was walking to Rome, this man of information turned +off his flood into another channel, as a miller will send the racing +water into a side sluice, and he poured out some such torrent as this: + +'Do not omit to notice the famous view S.E. from the Villa So and So +on Monte Mario; visit such and such a garden, and hear Mass in such +and such a church. Note the curious illusion produced on the piazza of +St Peter's by the interior measurements of the trapezium, which are so +many years and so many yards, ...' &c., and so forth ... exactly like +a mill. + +I meanwhile sat on still silent, still drinking beer and watching the +Phocean; gradually suffering the fascination that had captured the +villagers and the German friend. He was a very wonderful man. + +He was also kindly, for I found afterwards that he had arranged with +the host to give me up his bed, seeing my weariness. For this, most +unluckily, I was never able to thank him, since the next morning I was +off before he or any one else was awake, and I left on the table such +money as I thought would very likely satisfy the innkeeper. + +It was broad day, but not yet sunrise (there were watery thin clouds +left here and there from the day before, a cold wind drove them) when, +with extreme pain, going slowly one step after the other and resting +continually, I started for Porrentruy along a winding road, and +pierced the gap in the Jura. The first turn cut me off from France, +and I was fairly in a strange country. + +The valley through which I was now passing resembled that of the +lovely river Jed where it runs down from the Cheviots, and leads like +a road into the secret pastures of the lowlands. Here also, as there, +steep cliffs of limestone bounded a very level dale, all green grass +and plenty; the plateau above them was covered also with perpetual +woods, only here, different from Scotland, the woods ran on and +upwards till they became the slopes of high mountains; indeed, this +winding cleft was a natural passage through the first ridge of the +Jura; the second stood up southward before me like a deep blue storm. + +I had, as I passed on along this turning way, all the pleasures of +novelty; it was quite another country from the governed and ordered +France which I had left. The road was more haphazard, less carefully +tended, and evidently less used. The milestones were very old, and +marked leagues instead of kilometres. There was age in everything. +Moss grew along the walls, and it was very quiet under the high trees. +I did not know the name of the little river that went slowly through +the meadows, nor whether it followed the custom of its French +neighbours on the watershed, and was called by some such epithet as +hangs to all the waters in that gap of Belfort, that plain of ponds +and marshes: for they are called 'the Sluggish', 'the Muddy', or 'the +Laggard'. Even the name of the Saone, far off, meant once 'Slow +Water'. + +I was wondering what its name might be, and how far I stood from +Porrentruy (which I knew to be close by), when I saw a tunnel across +the valley, and I guessed by the trend of the higher hills that the +river was about to make a very sharp angle. Both these signs, I had +been told, meant that I was quite close to the town; so I took a short +cut up through the forest over a spur of hill--a short cut most +legitimate, because it was trodden and very manifestly used--and I +walked up and then on a level for a mile, along a lane of the woods +and beneath small, dripping trees. When this short silence of the +forest was over, I saw an excellent sight. + +There, below me, where the lane began to fall, was the first of the +German cities. + +LECTOR. How 'German'? + +AUCTOR. Let me explain. There is a race that stretches vaguely, +without defined boundaries, from the Baltic into the high hills of the +south. I will not include the Scandinavians among them, for the +Scandinavians (from whom we English also in part descend) are +long-headed, lean, and fierce, with a light of adventure in their pale +eyes. But beneath them, I say, there stretches from the Baltic to the +high hills a race which has a curious unity. Yes; I know that great +patches of it are Catholic, and that other great patches hold varying +philosophies; I know also that within them are counted long-headed and +round-headed men, dark and fair, violent and silent; I know also that +they have continually fought among themselves and called in Welch +allies; still I go somewhat by the language, for I am concerned here +with the development of a modern European people, and I say that the +Germans run from the high hills to the northern sea. In all of them +you find (it is not race, it is something much more than race, it is +the type of culture) a dreaminess and a love of ease. In all of them +you find music. They are those Germans whose countries I had seen a +long way off, from the Ballon d'Alsace, and whose language and +traditions I now first touched in the town that stood before me. + +LECTOR. But in Porrentruy they talk French! + +AUCTOR. They are welcome; it is an excellent tongue. Nevertheless, +they are Germans. Who but Germans would so preserve--would so rebuild +the past? Who but Germans would so feel the mystery of the hills, and +so fit their town to the mountains? I was to pass through but a narrow +wedge of this strange and diffuse people. They began at Porrentruy, +they ended at the watershed of the Adriatic, in the high passes of the +Alps; but in that little space of four days I made acquaintance with +their influence, and I owe them a perpetual gratitude for their +architecture and their tales. I had come from France, which is full of +an active memory of Rome. I was to debouch into those larger plains of +Italy, which keep about them an atmosphere of Rome in decay. Here in +Switzerland, for four marches, I touched a northern, exterior, and +barbaric people; for though these mountains spoke a distorted Latin +tongue, and only after the first day began to give me a Teutonic +dialect, yet it was evident from the first that they had about them +neither the Latin order nor the Latin power to create, but were +contemplative and easily absorbed by a little effort. + +The German spirit is a marvel. There lay Porrentruy. An odd door with +Gothic turrets marked the entry to the town. To the right of this +gateway a tower, more enormous than anything I remembered to have +seen, even in dreams, flanked the approach to the city. How vast it +was, how protected, how high, how eaved, how enduring! I was told +later that some part of that great bastion was Roman, and I can +believe it. The Germans hate to destroy. It overwhelmed me as visions +overwhelm, and I felt in its presence as boys feel when they first see +the mountains. Had I not been a Christian, I would have worshipped and +propitiated this obsession, this everlasting thing. + +As it was I entered Porrentruy soberly. I passed under its deep +gateway and up its steep hill. The moment I was well into the main +street, something other of the Middle Ages possessed me, and I began +to think of food and wine. I went to the very first small guest-house +I could find, and asked them if they could serve me food. They said +that at such an early hour (it was not yet ten) they could give me +nothing but bread, yesterday's meat, and wine. I said that would do +very well, and all these things were set before me, and by a custom of +the country I paid before I ate. (A bad custom. Up in the Limousin, +when I was a boy, in the noisy valley of the Torrent, on the Vienne, I +remember a woman that did not allow me to pay till she had held the +bottle up to the light, measured the veal with her finger, and +estimated the bread with her eye; also she charged me double. God +rest her soul!) I say I paid. And had I had to pay twenty or +twenty-three times as much it would have been worth it for the wine. + +I am hurrying on to Rome, and I have no time to write a georgic. But, +oh! my little friends of the north; my struggling, strenuous, +introspective, self-analysing, autoscopic, and generally reentrant +friends, who spout the 'Hue! Pater, oh! Lenae!' without a ghost of an +idea what you are talking about, do you know what is meant by the god? +Bacchus is everywhere, but if he has special sites to be ringed in and +kept sacred, I say let these be Brule, and the silent vineyard that +lies under the square wood by Tournus, the hollow underplace of Heltz +le Maurupt, and this town of Porrentruy. In these places if I can get +no living friends to help me, I will strike the foot alone on the +genial ground, and I know of fifty maenads and two hundred little +attendant gods by name that will come to the festival. + +What a wine! + +I was assured it would not travel. 'Nevertheless,' said I, 'give me a +good quart bottle of it, for I have to go far, and I see there is a +providence for pilgrims.' + +So they charged me fourpence, and I took my bottle of this wonderful +stuff, sweet, strong, sufficient, part of the earth, desirable, and +went up on my way to Rome. + +Could this book be infinite, as my voyage was infinite, I would tell +you about the shifty priest whom I met on the platform of the church +where a cliff overhangs the valley, and of the anarchist whom I met +when I recovered the highroad--- he was a sad, good man, who had +committed some sudden crime and so had left France, and his hankering +for France all those years had soured his temper, and he said he +wished there were no property, no armies, and no governments. + +But I said that we live as parts of a nation, and that there was no +fate so wretched as to be without a country of one's own--what else +was exile which so many noble men have thought worse than death, and +which all have feared? I also told him that armies fighting in a just +cause were the happiest places for living, and that a good battle for +justice was the beginning of all great songs; and that as for +property, a man on his own land was the nearest to God. + +He therefore not convinced, and I loving and pitying him, we +separated; I had not time to preach my full doctrine, but gave him +instead a deep and misty glass of cool beer, and pledged him +brotherhood, freedom, and an equal law. Then I went on my way, praying +God that all these rending quarrels might be appeased. For they would +certainly be appeased if we once again had a united doctrine in +Europe, since economics are but an expression of the mind and do not +(as the poor blind slaves of the great cities think) mould the mind. +What is more, nothing makes property run into a few hands but the +worst of the capital sins, and you who say it is 'the modern +facilities of distribution' are like men who cannot read large print +without spectacles; or again, you are like men who should say that +their drunkenness was due to their drink, or that arson was caused by +matches. + +But, frankly, do you suppose I came all this way over so many hills to +talk economics? Very far from it! I will pray for all poor men when I +get to St Peter's in Rome (I should like to know what capital St Peter +had in that highly capitalistic first century), and, meanwhile, do you +discuss the margin of production while I go on the open way; there are +no landlords here, and if you would learn at least one foreign +language, and travel but five miles off a railway, you town-talkers, +you would find how much landlordism has to do with your 'necessities' +and your 'laws'. + +LECTOR. I thought you said you were not going to talk economics? + +AUCTOR. Neither am I. It is but the backwash of a wave ... Well, then, +I went up the open way, and came in a few miles of that hot afternoon +to the second ridge of the Jura, which they call 'the Terrible Hill', +or 'the Mount Terrible'--and, in truth, it is very jagged. A steep, +long crest of very many miles lies here between the vale of Porrentruy +and the deep gorge of the Doubs. The highroad goes off a long way +westward, seeking for a pass or neck in the chain, but I determined to +find a straight road across, and spoke to some wood-cutters who were +felling trees just where the road began to climb. They gave me this +curious indication. They said-- + +'Go you up this muddy track that has been made athwart the woods and +over the pastures by our sliding logs' (for they had cut their trunks +higher up the mountains), 'and you will come to the summit easily. +From thence you will see the Doubs running below you in a very deep +and dark ravine.' + +I thanked them, and soon found that they had told me right. There, +unmistakable, a gash in the forest and across the intervening fields +of grass, was the run of the timber. + +When I had climbed almost to the top, I looked behind me to take my +last view of the north. I saw just before me a high isolated rock; +between me and it was the forest. I saw beyond it the infinite plain +of Alsace and the distant Vosges. The cliff of limestone that bounded +that height fell sheer upon the tree-tops; its sublimity arrested me, +and compelled me to record it. + +'Surely,' I said, 'if Switzerland has any gates on the north they are +these.' Then, having drawn the wonderful outline of what I had seen, I +went up, panting, to the summit, and, resting there, discovered +beneath me the curious swirl of the Doubs, where it ran in a dark gulf +thousands of feet below. The shape of this extraordinary turn I will +describe in a moment. Let me say, meanwhile, that there was no +precipice or rock between me and the river, only a down, down, down +through other trees and pastures, not too steep for a man to walk, but +steeper than our steep downs and fells in England, where a man +hesitates and picks his way. It was so much of a descent, and so long, +that one looked above the tree-tops. It was a place where no one would +care to ride. + +I found a kind of path, sideways on the face of the mountain, and +followed it till I came to a platform with a hut perched thereon, and +men building. Here a good woman told me just how to go. I was not to +attempt the road to Brune-Farine--that is, 'Whole-Meal Farm'--as I had +first intended, foolishly trusting a map, but to take a gully she +would show me, and follow it till I reached the river. She came out, +and led me steeply across a hanging pasture; all the while she had +knitting in her hands, and I noticed that on the levels she went on +with her knitting. Then, when we got to the gully, she said I had but +to follow it. I thanked her, and she climbed up to her home. + +This gully was the precipitous bed of a stream; I clanked down +it--thousands of feet--warily; I reached the valley, and at last, very +gladly, came to a drain, and thus knew that I approached a town or +village. It was St Ursanne. + +The very first thing I noticed in St Ursanne was the extraordinary +shape of the lower windows of the church. They lighted a crypt and ran +along the ground, which in itself was sufficiently remarkable, but +much more remarkable was their shape, which seemed to me to approach +that of a horseshoe; I never saw such a thing before. It looked as +though the weight of the church above had bulged these little windows +out, and that is the way I explain it. Some people would say it was a +man coming home from the Crusades that had made them this eastern way, +others that it was a symbol of something or other. But I say-- + +LECTOR. What rhodomontade and pedantry is this talk about the shape of +a window? + +AUCTOR. Little friend, how little you know! To a building windows are +everything; they are what eyes are to a man. Out of windows a building +takes its view; in windows the outlook of its human inhabitants is +framed. If you were the lord of a very high tower overlooking a town, +a plain, a river, and a distant hill (I doubt if you will ever have +such luck!), would you not call your architect up before you and say-- + +'Sir, see that the windows of my house are _tall, narrow, thick_, and +have a _round top to them'?_ + +Of course you would, for thus you would best catch in separate +pictures the sunlit things outside your home. + +Never ridicule windows. It is out of windows that many fall to their +deaths. By windows love often enters. Through a window went the bolt +that killed King Richard. King William's father spied Arlette from a +window (I have looked through it myself, but not a soul did I see +washing below). When a mob would rule England, it breaks windows, and +when a patriot would save her, he taxes them. Out of windows we walk +on to lawns in summer and meet men and women, and in winter windows +are drums for the splendid music of storms that makes us feel so +masterly round our fires. The windows of the great cathedrals are all +their meaning. But for windows we should have to go out-of-doors to +see daylight. After the sun, which they serve, I know of nothing so +beneficent as windows. Fie upon the ungrateful man that has no +window-god in his house, and thinks himself too great a philosopher to +bow down to windows! May he live in a place without windows for a +while to teach him the value of windows. As for me, I will keep up the +high worship of windows till I come to the windowless grave. Talk to +me of windows! + +Yes. There are other things in St Ursanne. It is a little tiny town, +and yet has gates. It is full of very old houses, people, and speech. +It was founded (or named) by a Bear Saint, and the statue of the saint +with his bear is carved on the top of a column in the market-place. +But the chief thing about it, so it seemed to me, was its remoteness. + +The gorge of the Doubs, of which I said a word or two above, is of +that very rare shape which isolates whatever may be found in such +valleys. It turns right back upon itself, like a very narrow U, and +thus cannot by any possibility lead any one anywhere; for though in +all times travellers have had to follow river valleys, yet when they +come to such a long and sharp turn as this, they have always cut +across the intervening bend. + +Here is the shape of this valley with the high hills round it and in +its core, which will show better than description what I mean. The +little picture also shows what the gorge looked like as I came down on +it from the heights above. + +In the map the small white 'A' shows where the railway bridge was, and +in this map, as in the others, the dark is for the depth and the light +is for the heights. As for the picture, it is what one sees when one +is coming over the ridge at the north or top of the map, and when one +first catches the river beneath one. + +I thought a good deal about what the Romans did to get through the +Mont Terrible, and how they negotiated this crook in the Doubs (for +they certainly passed into Gaul through the gates of Porrentruy, and +by that obvious valley below it). I decided that they probably came +round eastward by Delemont. But for my part, I was on a straight path +to Rome, and as that line lay just along the top of the river bend I +was bound to take it. + +Now outside St Ursanne, if one would go along the top of the river +bend and so up to the other side of the gorge, is a kind of subsidiary +ravine--awful, deep, and narrow--and this was crossed, I could see, by +a very high railway bridge. + +Not suspecting any evil, and desiring to avoid the long descent into +the ravine, the looking for a bridge or ford, and the steep climb up +the other side, I made in my folly for the station which stood just +where the railway left solid ground to go over this high, high bridge. +I asked leave of the stationmaster to cross it, who said it was +strictly forbidden, but that he was not a policeman, and that I might +do it at my own risk. Thanking him, therefore, and considering how +charming was the loose habit of small uncentralized societies, I went +merrily on to the bridge, meaning to walk across it by stepping from +sleeper to sleeper. But it was not to be so simple. The powers of the +air, that hate to have their kingdom disturbed, watched me as I began. + +I had not been engaged upon it a dozen yards when I was seized with +terror. + +I have much to say further on in this book concerning terror: the +panic that haunts high places and the spell of many angry men. This +horrible affection of the mind is the delight of our modern +scribblers; it is half the plot of their insane 'short stories', and +is at the root of their worship of what they call 'strength', a +cowardly craving for protection, or the much more despicable +fascination of brutality. For my part I have always disregarded it as +something impure and devilish, unworthy of a Christian. Fear I think, +indeed, to be in the nature of things, and it is as much part of my +experience to be afraid of the sea or of an untried horse as it is to +eat and sleep; but terror, which is a sudden madness and paralysis of +the soul, that I say is from hell, and not to be played with or +considered or put in pictures or described in stories. All this I say +to preface what happened, and especially to point out how terror is in +the nature of a possession and is unreasonable. + +For in the crossing of this bridge there was nothing in itself +perilous. The sleepers lay very close together--I doubt if a man +could have slipped between them; but, I know not how many hundred feet +below, was the flashing of the torrent, and it turned my brain. For +the only parapet there was a light line or pipe, quite slender and low +down, running from one spare iron upright to another. These rather +emphasized than encouraged my mood. And still as I resolutely put one +foot in front of the other, and resolutely kept my eyes off the abyss +and fixed on the opposing hill, and as the long curve before me was +diminished by successive sharp advances, still my heart was caught +half-way in every breath, and whatever it is that moves a man went +uncertainly within me, mechanical and half-paralysed. The great height +with that narrow unprotected ribbon across it was more than I could +bear. + +I dared not turn round and I dared not stop. Words and phrases began +repeating themselves in my head as they will under a strain: so I know +at sea a man perilously hanging on to the tiller makes a kind of +litany of his instructions. The central part was passed, the +three-quarters; the tension of that enduring effort had grown +intolerable, and I doubted my ability to complete the task. Why? What +could prevent me? I cannot say; it was all a bundle of imaginaries. +Perhaps at bottom what I feared was sudden giddiness and the fall-- + +At any rate at this last supreme part I vowed one candle to Our Lady +of Perpetual Succour if she would see that all went well, and this +candle I later paid in Rome; finding Our Lady of Succour not hung up +in a public place and known to all, as I thought She would be, but +peculiar to a little church belonging to a Scotchman and standing +above his high altar. Yet it is a very famous picture, and extremely +old. + +Well, then, having made this vow I still went on, with panic aiding +me, till I saw that the bank beneath had risen to within a few feet of +the bridge, and that dry land was not twenty yards away. Then my +resolution left me and I ran, or rather stumbled, rapidly from sleeper +to sleeper till I could take a deep breath on the solid earth beyond. + +I stood and gazed back over the abyss; I saw the little horrible strip +between heaven and hell--the perspective of its rails. I was made ill +by the relief from terror. Yet I suppose railway-men cross and recross +it twenty times a day. Better for them than for me! + +There is the story of the awful bridge of the Mont Terrible, and it +lies to a yard upon the straight line--_quid dicam_--the segment of +the Great Circle uniting Toul and Rome. + +The high bank or hillside before me was that which ends the gorge of +the Doubs and looks down either limb of the sharp bend. I had here not +to climb but to follow at one height round the curve. My way ran by a +rather ill-made lane and passed a village. Then it was my business to +make straight up the farther wall of the gorge, and as there was wood +upon this, it looked an easy matter. + +But when I came to it, it was not easy. The wood grew in loose rocks +and the slope was much too steep for anything but hands and knees, and +far too soft and broken for true climbing. And no wonder this ridge +seemed a wall for steepness and difficulty, since it was the watershed +between the Mediterranean and the cold North Sea. But I did not know +this at the time. It must have taken me close on an hour before I had +covered the last thousand feet or so that brought me to the top of the +ridge, and there, to my great astonishment, was a road. Where could +such a road lead, and why did it follow right along the highest edge +of the mountains? The Jura with their unique parallels provide twenty +such problems. + +Wherever it led, however, this road was plainly perpendicular to my +true route, and I had but to press on my straight line. So I crossed +it, saw for a last time through the trees the gorge of the Doubs, and +then got upon a path which led down through a field more or less in +the direction of my pilgrimage. + +Here the country was so broken that one could make out but little of +its general features, but of course, on the whole, I was following +down yet another southern slope, the southern slope of the _third_ +chain of the Jura, when, after passing through many glades and along a +stony path, I found a kind of gate between two high rocks, and emerged +somewhat suddenly upon a wide down studded with old trees and also +many stunted yews, and this sank down to a noble valley which lay all +before me. + +The open down or prairie on which I stood I afterwards found to be +called the 'Pasturage of Common Right', a very fine name; and, as a +gallery will command a great hall, so this field like a platform +commanded the wide and fading valley below. + +It was a very glad surprise to see this sight suddenly unrolled as I +stood on the crest of the down. The Jura had hitherto been either +lonely, or somewhat awful, or naked and rocky, but here was a true +vale in which one could imagine a spirit of its own; there were corn +lands and no rocks. The mountains on either side did not rise so high +as three thousand feet. Though of limestone they were rounded in form, +and the slanting sun of the late afternoon (all the storm had left the +sky) took them full and warm. The valley remaining wide and fruitful +went on out eastward till the hills became mixed up with brume and +distance. As I did not know its name I called it after the village +immediately below me for which I was making; and I still remember it +as the Valley of Glovelier, and it lies between the third and fourth +ridges of the Jura. + +Before leaving the field I drew what I saw but I was much too tired by +the double and prodigious climb of the past hours to draw definitely +or clearly. Such as it is, there it is. Then I went down over the +smooth field. + +There is something that distinguishes the rugged from the gracious in +landscape, and in our Europe this something corresponds to the use and +presence of men, especially in mountainous places. For men's habits +and civilization fill the valleys and wash up the base of the hills, +making, as it were, a tide mark. Into this zone I had already passed. +The turf was trodden fine, and was set firm as it can only become by +thousands of years of pasturing. The moisture that oozed out of the +earth was not the random bog of the high places but a human spring, +caught in a stone trough. Attention had been given to the trees. +Below me stood a wall, which, though rough, was not the haphazard +thing men pile up in the last recesses of the hills, but formed of +chosen stones, and these bound together with mortar. On my right was +a deep little dale with children playing in it--and this' I afterwards +learned was called a 'combe': delightful memory! All our deeper +hollows are called the same at home, and even the Welsh have the word, +but they spell it _cwm_; it is their mountain way. Well, as I was +saying, everything surrounding me was domestic and grateful, and I was +therefore in a mood for charity and companionship when I came down the +last dip and entered Glovelier. But Glovelier is a place of no +excellence whatever, and if the thought did not seem extravagant I +should be for putting it to the sword and burning it all down. + +For just as I was going along full of kindly thoughts, and had turned +into the sign of (I think it was) the 'Sun' to drink wine and leave +them my benediction-- + +LECTOR. Why your benediction? + +AUCTOR. Who else can give benedictions if people cannot when they are +on pilgrimage? Learn that there are three avenues by which blessing +can be bestowed, and three kinds of men who can bestow it. + +(1) There is the good man, whose goodness makes him of himself a giver +of blessings. His power is not conferred or of office, but is +_inhaerens persona_; part of the stuff of his mind. This kind can +confer the solemn benediction, or _Benedictio major_, if they choose; +but besides this their every kind thought, word, or action is a +_Benedictio generalise_ and even their frowns, curses, angry looks and +irritable gestures may be called _Benedictiones minores vel incerti_. +I believe I am within the definitions. I avoid heresy. All this is +sound theology. I do not smell of the faggot. And this kind of +Benedictory Power is the fount or type or natural origin, as it were, +of all others. + +(2) There is the Official of Religion who, in the exercise of his +office-- + +LECTOR. For Heaven's sake-- + +AUCTOR. Who began it? You protested my power to give benediction, and +I must now prove it at length; otherwise I should fall under the +accusation of lesser Simony--that is, the false assumption of +particular powers. Well, then, there is the Official who _ex officio_, +and when he makes it quite clear that it is _qua sponsus_ and not +_sicut ut ipse_, can give formal benediction. This power belongs +certainly to all Bishops, mitred Abbots, and Archimandrates; to +Patriarchs of course, and _a fortiori_ to the Pope. In Rome they will +have it that Monsignores also can so bless, and I have heard it +debated whether or no the same were not true in some rustic way of +parish priests. However this may be, all their power proceeds, not +from themselves, but from the accumulation of goodness left as a +deposit by the multitudes of exceptionally good men who have lived in +times past, and who have now no use for it. + +(3) Thirdly--and this is my point--any one, good or bad, official or +non-official, who is for the moment engaged in an _opusfaustum_ can +act certainly as a conductor or medium, and the influence of what he +is touching or doing passes to you from him. This is admitted by every +one who worships trees, wells, and stones; and indeed it stands to +reason, for it is but a branch of the well-known _'Sanctificatio ex +loco, opere, tactu vel conditione.'_ I will admit that this power is +but vague, slight, tenuous, and dissipatory, still there it is: though +of course its poor effect is to that of the _Benedictio major_ what a +cat's-paw in the Solent is to a north-east snorter on Lindsey Deeps. + +I am sorry to have been at such length, but it is necessary to have +these things thrashed out once for all. So now you see how I, being on +pilgrimage, could give a kind of little creeping blessing to the +people on the way, though, as St Louis said to the Hascisch-eaters, +_'May it be a long time before you can kiss my bones.'_ + +So I entered the 'Sun' inn and saw there a woman sewing, a great +dull-faced man like an ox, and a youth writing down figures in a +little book. I said-- + +'Good morning, madam, and sirs, and the company. Could you give me a +little red wine?' Not a head moved. + +True I was very dirty and tired, and they may have thought me a +beggar, to whom, like good sensible Christians who had no nonsense +about them, they would rather have given a handsome kick than a cup of +cold water. However, I think it was not only my poverty but a native +churlishness which bound their bovine souls in that valley. + +I sat down at a very clean table. I notice that those whom the Devil +has made his own are always spick and span, just as firemen who have +to go into great furnaces have to keep all their gear highly polished. +I sat down at it, and said again, still gently-- + +'It is, indeed, a fine country this of yours. Could you give me a +little red wine?' + +Then the ox-faced man who had his back turned to me, and was the worst +of the lot, said sulkily, not to me, but to the woman-- + +'He wants wine.' + +The woman as sulkily said to me, not looking me in the eyes-- + +'How much will you pay?' + +I said, 'Bring the wine. Set it here. See me drink it. Charge me your +due.' + +I found that this brutal way of speaking was just what was needed for +the kine and cattle of this pen. She skipped off to a cupboard, and +set wine before me, and a glass. I drank quite quietly till I had had +enough, and asked what there was to pay. She said 'Threepence,' and I +said 'Too much,' as I paid it. At this the ox-faced man grunted and +frowned, and I was afraid; but hiding my fear I walked out boldly and +slowly, and made a noise with my stick upon the floor of the hall +without. Neither did I bid them farewell. But I made a sign at the +house as I left it. Whether it suffered from this as did the house at +Dorchester which the man in the boat caused to wither in one night, is +more than I can tell. + +The road led straight across the valley and approached the further +wall of hills. These I saw were pierced by one of the curious gaps +which are peculiar to limestone ranges. Water cuts them, and a torrent +ran through this one also. The road through it, gap though it was, +went up steeply, and the further valley was evidently higher than the +one I was leaving. It was already evening as I entered this narrow +ravine; the sun only caught the tops of the rock-walls. My fatigue was +very great, and my walking painful to an extreme, when, having come to +a place where the gorge was narrowest and where the two sides were +like the posts of a giant's stile, where also the fifth ridge of the +Jura stood up beyond me in the further valley, a vast shadow, I sat +down wearily and drew what not even my exhaustion could render +unremarkable. + +While I was occupied sketching the slabs of limestone, I heard wheels +coming up behind me, and a boy in a waggon stopped and hailed me. + +What the boy wanted to know was whether I would take a lift, and this +he said in such curious French that I shuddered to think how far I had +pierced into the heart of the hills, and how soon I might come to +quite strange people. I was greatly tempted to get into his cart, but +though I had broken so many of my vows one remained yet whole and +sound, which was that I would ride upon no wheeled thing. Remembering +this, therefore, and considering that the Faith is rich in +interpretation, I clung on to the waggon in such a manner that it did +all my work for me, and yet could not be said to be actually carrying +me. _Distinguo_. The essence of a vow is its literal meaning. The +spirit and intention are for the major morality, and concern Natural +Religion, but when upon a point of ritual or of dedication or special +worship a man talks to you of the Spirit and Intention, and complains +of the dryness of the Word, look at him askance. He is not far removed +from Heresy. + +I knew a man once that was given to drinking, and I made up this rule +for him to distinguish between Bacchus and the Devil. To wit: that he +should never drink what has been made and sold since the +Reformation--I mean especially spirits and champagne. Let him (said I) +drink red wine and white, good beer and mead--if he could get +it--liqueurs made by monks, and, in a word, all those feeding, +fortifying, and confirming beverages that our fathers drank in old +time; but not whisky, nor brandy, nor sparkling wines, not absinthe, +nor the kind of drink called gin. This he promised to do, and all went +well. He became a merry companion, and began to write odes. His prose +clarified and set, that had before been very mixed and cloudy. He +slept well; he comprehended divine things; he was already half a +republican, when one fatal day--it was the feast of the eleven +thousand virgins, and they were too busy up in heaven to consider the +needs of us poor hobbling, polyktonous and betempted wretches of +men--I went with him to the Society for the Prevention of Annoyances +to the Rich, where a certain usurer's son was to read a paper on the +cruelty of Spaniards to their mules. As we were all seated there round +a table with a staring green cloth on it, and a damnable gas pendant +above, the host of that evening offered him whisky and water, and, my +back being turned, he took it. Then when I would have taken it from +him he used these words-- + +'After all, it is the intention of a pledge that matters;' and I saw +that all was over, for he had abandoned definition, and was plunged +back into the horrible mazes of Conscience and Natural Religion. + +What do you think, then, was the consequence? Why, he had to take some +nasty pledge or other to drink nothing whatever, and become a +spectacle and a judgement, whereas if he had kept his exact word he +might by this time have been a happy man. + +Remembering him and pondering upon the advantage of strict rule, I +hung on to my cart, taking care to let my feet still feel the road, +and so passed through the high limestone gates of the gorge, and was +in the fourth valley of the Jura, with the fifth ridge standing up +black and huge before me against the last of the daylight. There were +as yet no stars. + +There, in this silent place, was the little village of Undervelier, +and I thanked the boy, withdrew from his cart, and painfully +approached the inn, where I asked the woman if she could give me +something to eat, and she said that she could in about an hour, using, +however, with regard to what it was I was to have, words which I did +not understand. For the French had become quite barbaric, and I was +now indeed lost in one of the inner places of the world. + +A cigar is, however, even in Undervelier, a cigar; and the best cost a +penny. One of these, therefore, I bought, and then I went out smoking +it into the village square, and, finding a low wall, leaned over it +and contemplated the glorious clear green water tumbling and roaring +along beneath it on the other side; for a little river ran through the +village. + +As I leaned there resting and communing I noticed how their church, +close at hand, was built along the low banks of the torrent. I admired +the luxuriance of the grass these waters fed, and the generous arch of +the trees beside it. The graves seemed set in a natural place of rest +and home, and just beyond this churchyard was that marriage of hewn +stone and water which is the source of so peculiar a satisfaction; for +the church tower was built boldly right out into the stream and the +current went eddying round it. But why it is that strong human +building when it dips into water should thus affect the mind I cannot +say, only I know that it is an emotion apart to see our device and +structure where it is most enduring come up against and challenge that +element which we cannot conquer, and which has always in it something +of danger for men. It is therefore well to put strong mouldings on to +piers and quays, and to make an architecture of them, and so it was a +splendid thought of the Romans to build their villas right out to sea; +so they say does Venice enthrall one, but where I have most noticed +this thing is at the Mont St Michel--only one must take care to shut +one's eyes or sleep during all the low tide. + +As I was watching that stream against those old stones, my cigar being +now half smoked, a bell began tolling, and it seemed as if the whole +village were pouring into the church. At this I was very much +surprised, not having been used at any time of my life to the +unanimous devotion of an entire population, but having always thought +of the Faith as something fighting odds, and having seen unanimity +only in places where some sham religion or other glozed over our +tragedies and excused our sins. Certainly to see all the men, women, +and children of a place taking Catholicism for granted was a new +sight, and so I put my cigar carefully down under a stone on the top +of the wall and went in with them. I then saw that what they were at +was vespers. + +All the village sang, knowing the psalms very well, and I noticed that +their Latin was nearer German than French; but what was most pleasing +of all was to hear from all the men and women together that very noble +good-night and salutation to God which begins-- + +_Te, lucis ante terminum._ + +My whole mind was taken up and transfigured by this collective act, +and I saw for a moment the Catholic Church quite plain, and I +remembered Europe, and the centuries. Then there left me altogether +that attitude of difficulty and combat which, for us others, is always +associated with the Faith. The cities dwindled in my imagination, and +I took less heed of the modern noise. I went out with them into the +clear evening and the cool. I found my cigar and lit it again, and +musing much more deeply than before, not without tears, I considered +the nature of Belief. + +Of its nature it breeds a reaction and an indifference. Those who +believe nothing but only think and judge cannot understand this. Of +its nature it struggles with us. And we, we, when our youth is full on +us, invariably reject it and set out in the sunlight content with +natural things. Then for a long time we are like men who follow down +the cleft of a mountain and the peaks are hidden from us and +forgotten. It takes years to reach the dry plain, and then we look +back and see our home. + +What is it, do you think, that causes the return? I think it is the +problem of living; for every day, every experience of evil, demands a +solution. That solution is provided by the memory of the great scheme +which at last we remember. Our childhood pierces through again ... But +I will not attempt to explain it, for I have not the power; only I +know that we who return suffer hard things; for there grows a gulf +between us and many companions. We are perpetually thrust into +minorities, and the world almost begins to talk a strange language; we +are troubled by the human machinery of a perfect and superhuman +revelation; we are over-anxious for its safety, alarmed, and in danger +of violent decisions. + +And this is hard: that the Faith begins to make one abandon the old +way of judging. Averages and movements and the rest grow uncertain. We +see things from within and consider one mind or a little group as a +salt or leaven. The very nature of social force seems changed to us. +And this is hard when a man has loved common views and is happy only +with his fellows. + +And this again is very hard, that we must once more take up that awful +struggle to reconcile two truths and to keep civic freedom sacred in +spite of the organization of religion, and not to deny what is +certainly true. It is hard to accept mysteries, and to be humble. We +are tost as the great schoolmen were tost, and we dare not neglect the +duty of that wrestling. + +But the hardest thing of all is that it leads us away, as by a +command, from all that banquet of the intellect than which there is no +keener joy known to man. + +I went slowly up the village place in the dusk, thinking of this +deplorable weakness in men that the Faith is too great for them, and +accepting it as an inevitable burden. I continued to muse with my eyes +upon the ground ... + +There was to be no more of that studious content, that security in +historic analysis, and that constant satisfaction of an appetite which +never cloyed. A wisdom more imperative and more profound was to put a +term to the comfortable wisdom of learning. All the balance of +judgement, the easy, slow convictions, the broad grasp of things, the +vision of their complexity, the pleasure in their innumerable +life--all that had to be given up. Fanaticisms were no longer entirely +to be despised, just appreciations and a strong grasp of reality no +longer entirely to be admired. + +The Catholic Church will have no philosophies. She will permit no +comforts; the cry of the martyrs is in her far voice; her eyes that +see beyond the world present us heaven and hell to the confusion of +our human reconciliations, our happy blending of good and evil things. + +By the Lord! I begin to think this intimate religion as tragic as a +great love. There came back into my mind a relic that I have in my +house. It is a panel of the old door of my college, having carved on +it my college arms. I remembered the Lion and the Shield, _Haec fuit, +Haec almae janua sacra domus._ Yes, certainly religion is as tragic as +first love, and drags us out into the void away from our dear homes. + +It is a good thing to have loved one woman from a child, and it is a +good thing not to have to return to the Faith. + +They cook worse in Undervelier than any place I was ever in, with the +possible exception of Omaha, Neb. + +LECTOR. Why do you use phrases like _'possible exception'?_ + +AUCTOR. Why not? I see that all the religion I have stuck into the +book has no more effect on you than had Rousseau upon Sir Henry Maine. +You are as full of Pride as a minor Devil. You would avoid the +_cliché_ and the commonplace, and the _phrase toute faite_. Why? Not +because you naturally write odd prose--contrariwise, left to yourself +you write pure journalese; but simply because you are swelled and +puffed up with a desire to pose. You want what the Martha Brown school +calls 'distinction' in prose. My little friend, I know how it is done, +and I find it contemptible. People write their articles at full speed, +putting down their unstudied and valueless conclusions in English as +pale as a film of dirty wax--sometimes even they dictate to a +typewriter. Then they sit over it with a blue pencil and carefully +transpose the split infinitives, and write alternative adjectives, and +take words away out of their natural place in the sentence and +generally put the Queen's English--yes, the Queen's English--on the +rack. And who is a penny the better for it? The silly authors get no +real praise, not even in the horrible stucco villas where their clique +meet on Sundays. The poor public buys the _Marvel_ and gasps at the +cleverness of the writing and despairs, and has to read what it can +understand, and is driven back to toshy novels about problems, written +by cooks. 'The hungry sheep,' as some one says somewhere, 'look up and +are not fed;' and the same poet well describes your pipings as being +on wretched straw pipes that are 'scrannel'--a good word. + +Oh, for one man who should write healthy, hearty, straightforward +English! Oh, for Cobbett! There are indeed some great men who write +twistedly simply because they cannot help it, but _their_ honesty is +proved by the mass they turn out. What do you turn out, you higglers +and sticklers? Perhaps a bad triolet every six months, and a book of +criticism on something thoroughly threadbare once in five years. If I +had my way-- + +LECTOR. I am sorry to have provoked all this. + +AUCTOR. Not at all! Not at all! I trust I have made myself clear. + +Well, as I was saying, they cook worse at Undervelier than any place I +was ever in, with the possible exception of Omaha, Neb. However, I +forgave them, because they were such good people, and after a short +and bitter night I went out in the morning before the sun rose and +took the Moutier road. + +The valley in which I was now engaged--the phrase seems familiar--was +more or less like an H. That is, there were two high parallel ranges +bounding it, but across the middle a low ridge of perhaps a thousand +feet. The road slowly climbed this ridge through pastures where cows +with deep-toned bells were rising from the dew on the grass, and where +one or two little cottages and a village already sent up smoke. All +the way up I was thinking of the surfeit of religion I had had the +night before, and also of how I had started that morning without bread +or coffee, which was a folly. + +When I got to the top of the ridge there was a young man chopping wood +outside a house, and I asked him in French how far it was to Moutier. +He answered in German, and I startled him by a loud cry, such as +sailors give when they see land, for at last I had struck the boundary +of the languages, and was with pure foreigners for the first time in +my life. I also asked him for coffee, and as he refused it I took him +to be a heretic and went down the road making up verses against all +such, and singing them loudly through the forest that now arched over +me and grew deeper as I descended. + +And my first verse was-- + + Heretics all, whoever you be, + In Tarbes or Nimes, or over the sea, + You never shall have good words from me. + _Caritas non conturbat me._ + +If you ask me why I put a Latin line at the end, it was because I had +to show that it was a song connected with the Universal Fountain and +with European culture, and with all that Heresy combats. I sang it to +a lively hymn-tune that I had invented for the occasion. + +I then thought what a fine fellow I was, and how pleasant were my +friends when I agreed with them. I made up this second verse, which I +sang even more loudly than the first; and the forest grew deeper, +sending back echoes-- + + But Catholic men that live upon wine + Are deep in the water, and frank, and fine; + Wherever I travel I find it so, + _Benedicamus Domino._ + +There is no doubt, however, that if one is really doing a catholic +work, and expressing one's attitude to the world, charity, pity, and a +great sense of fear should possess one, or, at least, appear. So I +made up this third verse and sang it to suit-- + + On childing women that are forlorn, + And men that sweat in nothing but scorn: + That is on all that ever were born, + _Miserere Domine._ + +Then, as everything ends in death, and as that is just what Heretics +least like to be reminded of, I ended thus-- + + To my poor self on my deathbed, + And all my dear companions dead, + Because of the love that I bore them, + _Dona Eis Requiem._ + +I say 'I ended.' But I did not really end there, for I also wrote in +the spirit of the rest a verse of Mea Culpa and Confession of Sin, but +I shall not print it here. + +So my song over and the woods now left behind, I passed up a dusty +piece of road into Moutier, a detestable town, all whitewashed and +orderly, down under the hills. + +I was tired, for the sun was now long risen and somewhat warm, and I +had walked ten miles, and that over a high ridge; and I had written a +canticle and sung it--- and all that without a sup or a bite. I +therefore took bread, coffee, and soup in Moutier, and then going a +little way out of the town I crossed a stream off the road, climbed a +knoll, and, lying under a tree, I slept. + +I awoke and took the road. + +The road after Moutier was not a thing for lyrics; it stirred me in no +way. It was bare in the sunlight, had fields on either side; and in +the fields stood houses. In the houses were articulately-speaking +mortal men. + +There is a school of Poets (I cannot read them myself) who treat of +common things, and their admirers tell us that these men raise the +things of everyday life to the plane of the supernatural. Note that +phrase, for it is a shaft of light through a cloud revealing their +disgusting minds. + +Everyday life! As _La Croix_ said in a famous leading article: _'La +Presse?'_ POOH!' I know that everyday life. It goes with sandals and +pictures of lean ugly people all just like one another in browny +photographs on the wall, and these pictures are called, one 'The House +of Life', or another, 'The Place Beautiful', or yet again a third, +'The Lamp of the Valley', and when you complain and shift about +uneasily before these pictures, the scrub-minded and dusty-souled +owners of them tell you that of course in photographs you lose the +marvellous colour of the original. This everyday life has mantelpieces +made of the same stuff as cafe-tables, so that by instinct I try to +make rings on them with my wine-glass, and the people who suffer this +life get up every morning at eight, and the poor sad men of the house +slave at wretched articles and come home to hear more literature and +more appreciations, and the unholy women do nothing and attend to +local government, that is, the oppression of the poor; and altogether +this accursed everyday life of theirs is instinct with the four sins +crying to heaven for vengeance, and there is no humanity in it, and no +simplicity, and no recollection. I know whole quarters of the towns of +that life where they have never heard of Virtus or Verecundia or +Pietas. + +LECTOR. Then-- + +AUCTOR. Alas! alas! Dear Lector, in these houses there is no honest +dust. Not a bottle of good wine or bad; no prints inherited from +one's uncle, and no children's books by Mrs Barbauld or Miss +Edgeworth; no human disorder, nothing of that organic comfort which +makes a man's house like a bear's fur for him. They have no debts, +they do not read in bed, and they will have difficulty in saving their +souls. + +LECTOR. Then tell me, how would you treat of common things? + +AUCTOR. Why, I would leave them alone; but if I had to treat of them I +will show you how I would do it. Let us have a dialogue about this +road from Moutier. + +LECTOR. By all means. + +AUCTOR. What a terrible thing it is to miss one's sleep. I can hardly +bear the heat of the road, and my mind is empty! + +LECTOR. Why, you have just slept in a wood! + +AUCTOR. Yes, but that is not enough. One must sleep at night. + +LECTOR. My brother often complains of insomnia. He is a policeman. + +AUCTOR. Indeed? It is a sad affliction. + +LECTOR. Yes, indeed. + +AUCTOR. Indeed, yes. + +LECTOR. I cannot go on like this. + +AUCTOR. There. That is just what I was saying. One cannot treat of +common things: it is not literature; and for my part, if I were the +editor even of a magazine, and the author stuck in a string of +dialogue, I would not pay him by the page but by the word, and I would +count off 5 per cent for epigrams, 10 per cent for dialect, and some +quarter or so for those stage directions in italics which they use to +pad out their work. + +So. I will not repeat this experiment, but next time I come to a bit +of road about which there is nothing to say, I will tell a story or +sing a song, and to that I pledge myself. + +By the way, I am reminded of something. Do you know those books and +stories in which parts of the dialogues often have no words at all? +Only dots and dashes and asterisks and interrogations? I wonder what +the people are paid for it? If I knew I would earn a mint of money, +for I believe I have a talent for it. Look at this-- + +There. That seems to me worth a good deal more money than all the +modern 'delineation of character', and 'folk' nonsense ever written. +What verve! What terseness! And yet how clear! + +LECTOR. Let us be getting on. + +AUCTOR. By all means, and let us consider more enduring things. + +After a few miles the road going upwards, I passed through another gap +in the hills and-- + +LECTOR. Pardon me, but I am still ruminating upon that little tragedy +of yours. Why was the guardian a duchess? + +AUCTOR. Well, it was a short play and modern, was it not? + +LECTOR. Yes. And therefore, of course, you must have a title in it. I +know that. I do not object to it. What I want to know is, why a +duchess? + +AUCTOR. On account of the reduction of scale: the concentration of the +thing. You see in the full play there would have been a lord, two +baronets, and say three ladies, and I could have put suitable words +into their mouths. As it was I had to make absolutely sure of the +element of nobility without any help, and, as it were, in one +startling moment. Do you follow? Is it not art? + +I cannot conceive why a pilgrimage, an adventure so naturally full of +great, wonderful, far-off and holy things should breed such fantastic +nonsense as all this; but remember at least the little acolyte of +Rheims, whose father, in 1512, seeing him apt for religion, put him +into a cassock and designed him for the Church, whereupon the +youngling began to be as careless and devilish as Mercury, putting +beeswax on the misericords, burning feathers in the censer, and even +going round himself with the plate without leave and scolding the rich +in loud whispers when they did not put in enough. So one way with +another they sent him home to his father; the archbishop thrusting him +out of the south porch with his own hands and giving him the Common or +Ferial Malediction, which is much the same as that used by carters to +stray dogs. + +When his father saw him he fumed terribly, cursing like a pagan, and +asking whether his son were a roysterer fit for the gallows as well as +a fool fit for a cassock. On hearing which complaint the son very +humbly and contritely said-- + +'It is not my fault but the contact with the things of the Church that +makes me gambol and frisk, just as the Devil they say is a good enough +fellow left to himself and is only moderately heated, yet when you put +him into holy water all the world is witness how he hisses and boils.' + +The boy then taking a little lamb which happened to be in the +drawing-room, said-- + +'Father, see this little lamb; how demure he is and how simple and +innocent, and how foolish and how tractable. Yet observe!' With that +he whipped the cassock from his arm where he was carrying it and threw +it all over the lamb, covering his head and body; and the lamb began +plunging and kicking and bucking and rolling and heaving and sliding +and rearing and pawing and most vigorously wrestling with the clerical +and hierarchically constraining garment of darkness, and bleating all +the while more and more angrily and loudly, for all the world like the +great goat Baphomet himself when the witches dance about him on +All-hallowe'en. But when the boy suddenly plucked off the cassock +again, the lamb, after sneezing a little and finding his feet, became +quite gentle once more, and looked only a little confused and dazed. + +'There, father,' said the boy, 'is proof to you of how the meekest may +be driven to desperation by the shackles I speak of, and which I pray +you never lay upon me again.' + +His father finding him so practical and wise made over his whole +fortune and business to him, and thus escaped the very heavy Heriot +and Death Dues of those days, for he was a Socage tenant of St Remi in +Double Burgage. But we stopped all that here in England by the statute +of Uses, and I must be getting back to the road before the dark +catches me. + +As I was saying, I came to a gap in the hills, and there was there a +house or two called Gansbrunnen, and one of the houses was an inn. +Just by the inn the road turned away sharply up the valley; the very +last slope of the Jura, the last parallel ridge, lay straight before +me all solemn, dark, and wooded, and making a high feathery line +against the noon. To cross this there was but a vague path rather +misleading, and the name of the mountain was Weissenstein. + +So before that last effort which should lead me over those thousands +of feet, and to nourish Instinct (which would be of use to me when I +got into that impenetrable wood), I turned into the inn for wine. + +A very old woman having the appearance of a witch sat at a dark table +by the little criss-cross window of the dark room. She was crooning to +herself, and I made the sign of the evil eye and asked her in French +for wine; but French she did not understand. Catching, however, two +words which sounded like the English 'White' and 'Red', I said 'Yaw' +after the last and nodded, and she brought up a glass of exceedingly +good red wine which I drank in silence, she watching me uncannily. + +Then I paid her with a five-franc piece, and she gave me a quantity of +small change rapidly, which, as I counted it, I found to contain one +Greek piece of fifty lepta very manifestly of lead. This I held up +angrily before her, and (not without courage, for it is hard to deal +with the darker powers) I recited to her slowly that familiar verse +which the well-known Satyricus Empiricius was for ever using in his +now classical attacks on the grammarians; and without any Alexandrian +twaddle of accents I intoned to her--and so left her astounded to +repentance or to shame. + +Then I went out into the sunlight, and crossing over running water put +myself out of her power. + +The wood went up darkly and the path branched here and there so that I +was soon uncertain of my way, but I followed generally what seemed to +me the most southerly course, and so came at last up steeply through a +dip or ravine that ended high on the crest of the ridge. + +Just as I came to the end of the rise, after perhaps an hour, perhaps +two, of that great curtain of forest which had held the mountain side, +the trees fell away to brushwood, there was a gate, and then the path +was lost upon a fine open sward which was the very top of the Jura and +the coping of that multiple wall which defends the Swiss Plain. I had +crossed it straight from edge to edge, never turning out of my way. + +It was too marshy to lie down on it, so I stood a moment to breathe +and look about me. + +It was evident that nothing higher remained, for though a new line of +wood--firs and beeches--stood before me, yet nothing appeared above +them, and I knew that they must be the fringe of the descent. I +approached this edge of wood, and saw that it had a rough fence of +post and rails bounding it, and as I was looking for the entry of a +path (for my original path was lost, as such tracks are, in the damp +grass of the little down) there came to me one of those great +revelations which betray to us suddenly the higher things and stand +afterwards firm in our minds. + +There, on this upper meadow, where so far I had felt nothing but the +ordinary gladness of The Summit, I had a vision. + +What was it I saw? If you think I saw this or that, and if you think I +am inventing the words, you know nothing of men. + +I saw between the branches of the trees in front of me a sight in the +sky that made me stop breathing, just as great danger at sea, or great +surprise in love, or a great deliverance will make a man stop +breathing. I saw something I had known in the West as a boy, something +I had never seen so grandly discovered as was this. In between the +branches of the trees was a great promise of unexpected lights beyond. + +I pushed left and right along that edge of the forest and along the +fence that bound it, until I found a place where the pine-trees +stopped, leaving a gap, and where on the right, beyond the gap, was a +tree whose leaves had failed; there the ground broke away steeply +below me, and the beeches fell, one below the other, like a vast +cascade, towards the limestone cliffs that dipped down still further, +beyond my sight. I looked through this framing hollow and praised God. +For there below me, thousands of feet below me, was what seemed an +illimitable plain; at the end of that world was an horizon, and the +dim bluish sky that overhangs an horizon. + +There was brume in it and thickness. One saw the sky beyond the edge +of the world getting purer as the vault rose. But right up--a belt in +that empyrean--ran peak and field and needle of intense ice, remote, +remote from the world. Sky beneath them and sky above them, a +steadfast legion, they glittered as though with the armour of the +immovable armies of Heaven. Two days' march, three days' march away, +they stood up like the walls of Eden. I say it again, they stopped my +breath. I had seen them. + +So little are we, we men: so much are we immersed in our muddy and +immediate interests that we think, by numbers and recitals, to +comprehend distance or time, or any of our limiting infinities. Here +were these magnificent creatures of God, I mean the Alps, which now +for the first time I saw from the height of the Jura; and because they +were fifty or sixty miles away, and because they were a mile or two +high, they were become something different from us others, and could +strike one motionless with the awe of supernatural things. Up there in +the sky, to which only clouds belong and birds and the last trembling +colours of pure light, they stood fast and hard; not moving as do the +things of the sky. They were as distant as the little upper clouds of +summer, as fine and tenuous; but in their reflection and in their +quality as it were of weapons (like spears and shields of an unknown +array) they occupied the sky with a sublime invasion: and the things +proper to the sky were forgotten by me in their presence as I gazed. + +To what emotion shall I compare this astonishment? So, in first love +one finds that _this_ can belong to _me._ + +Their sharp steadfastness and their clean uplifted lines compelled my +adoration. Up there, the sky above and below them, part of the sky, +but part of us, the great peaks made communion between that homing +creeping part of me which loves vineyards and dances and a slow +movement among pastures, and that other part which is only properly at +home in Heaven. I say that this kind of description is useless, and +that it is better to address prayers to such things than to attempt to +interpret them for others. + +These, the great Alps, seen thus, link one in some way to one's +immortality. Nor is it possible to convey, or even to suggest, those +few fifty miles, and those few thousand feet; there is something more. +Let me put it thus: that from the height of Weissenstein I saw, as it +were, my religion. I mean, humility, the fear of death, the terror of +height and of distance, the glory of God, the infinite potentiality of +reception whence springs that divine thirst of the soul; my aspiration +also towards completion, and my confidence in the dual destiny. For I +know that we laughers have a gross cousinship with the most high, and +it is this contrast and perpetual quarrel which feeds a spring of +merriment in the soul of a sane man. + +Since I could now see such a wonder and it could work such things in +my mind, therefore, some day I should be part of it. That is what I +felt. + +This it is also which leads some men to climb mountain-tops, but not +me, for I am afraid of slipping down. + +Then you will say, if I felt all this, why do I draw it, and put it in +my book, seeing that my drawings are only for fun? My jest drags down +such a memory and makes it ludicrous. Well, I said in my beginning +that I would note down whatever most impressed me, except figures, +which I cannot draw (I mean figures of human beings, for mathematical +figures I can draw well enough), and I have never failed in this +promise, except where, as in the case of Porrentruy, my drawing was +blown away by the wind and lost--- if anything ever is lost. So I put +down here this extraordinary drawing of what I saw, which is about as +much like it as a printed song full of misprints is to that same song +sung by an army on the march. And I am consoled by remembering that if +I could draw infinitely well, then it would become sacrilege to +attempt to draw that sight. Moreover, I am not going to waste any more +time discussing why I put in this little drawing. If it disturbs your +conception of what it was I saw, paste over it a little bit of paper. +I have made it small for the purpose; but remember that the paper +should be thin and opaque, for thick paper will interfere with the +shape of this book, and transparent paper will disturb you with a +memory of the picture. + +It was all full of this, as a man is full of music just after hearing +it, that I plunged down into the steep forest that led towards the +great plain; then, having found a path, I worked zig-zag down it by a +kind of gully that led through to a place where the limestone cliffs +were broken, and (so my map told me) to the town of Soleure, which +stands at the edge of the plain upon the river Aar. + +I was an hour or more going down the enormous face of the Jura, which +is here an escarpment, a cliff of great height, and contains but few +such breaks by which men can pick their way. It was when I was about +half-way down the mountain side that its vastness most impressed me. +And yet it had been but a platform as it were, from which to view the +Alps and their much greater sublimity. + +This vastness, even of these limestone mountains, took me especially +at a place where the path bordered a steep, or rather precipitous, +lift of white rock to which only here and there a tree could cling. + +I was still very high up, but looking somewhat more eastward than +before, and the plain went on inimitably towards some low vague hills; +nor in that direction could any snow be seen in the sky. Then at last +I came to the slopes which make a little bank under the mountains, and +there, finding a highroad, and oppressed somewhat suddenly by the +afternoon heat of those low places, I went on more slowly towards +Soleure. + +Beside me, on the road, were many houses, shaded by great trees, built +of wood, and standing apart. To each of them almost was a little +water-wheel, run by the spring which came down out of the ravine. The +water-wheel in most cases worked a simple little machine for sawing +planks, but in other cases it seemed used for some purpose inside the +house, which I could not divine; perhaps for spinning. + +All this place was full of working, and the men sang and spoke at +their work in German, which I could not understand. I did indeed find +one man, a young hay-making man carrying a scythe, who knew a little +French and was going my way. I asked him, therefore, to teach me +German, but he had not taught me much before we were at the gates of +the old town and then I left him. It is thus, you will see, that for +my next four days or five, which were passed among the German-speaking +Swiss, I was utterly alone. + +This book must not go on for ever; therefore I cannot say very much +about Soleure, although there is a great deal to be said about it. It +is distinguished by an impression of unity, and of civic life, which I +had already discovered in all these Swiss towns; for though men talk +of finding the Middle Ages here or there, I for my part never find it, +save where there has been democracy to preserve it. Thus I have seen +the Middle Ages especially alive in the small towns of Northern +France, and I have seen the Middle Ages in the University of Paris. +Here also in Switzerland. As I had seen it at St Ursanne, so I found +it now at Soleure. There were huge gates flanking the town, and there +was that evening a continual noise of rifles, at which the Swiss are +for ever practising. Over the church, however, I saw something +terribly seventeenth century, namely, Jaweh in great Hebrew letters +upon its front. + +Well, dining there of the best they had to give me (for this was +another milestone in my pilgrimage), I became foolishly refreshed and +valiant, and instead of sleeping in Soleure, as a wise man would have +done, I determined, though it was now nearly dark, to push on upon the +road to Burgdorf. + +I therefore crossed the river Aar, which is here magnificently broad +and strong, and has bastions jutting out into it in a very bold +fashion. I saw the last colourless light of evening making its waters +seem like dull metal between the gloomy banks; I felt the beginnings +of fatigue, and half regretted my determination. But as it is quite +certain that one should never go back, I went on in the darkness, I do +not know how many miles, till I reached some cross roads and an inn. + +This inn was very poor, and the people had never heard in their lives, +apparently, that a poor man on foot might not be able to talk German, +which seemed to me an astonishing thing; and as I sat there ordering +beer for myself and for a number of peasants (who but for this would +have me their butt, and even as it was found something monstrous in +me), I pondered during my continual attempts to converse with them +(for I had picked up some ten words of their language) upon the folly +of those who imagine the world to be grown smaller by railways. + +I suppose this place was more untouched, as the phrase goes, that is, +more living, more intense, and more powerful to affect others, +whenever it may be called to do so, than are even the dear villages of +Sussex that lie under my downs. For those are haunted by a nearly +cosmopolitan class of gentry, who will have actors, financiers, and +what not to come and stay with them, and who read the paper, and from +time to time address their village folk upon matters of politics. But +here, in this broad plain by the banks of the Emmen, they knew of +nothing but themselves and the Church which is the common bond of +Europe, and they were in the right way. Hence it was doubly hard on me +that they should think me such a stranger. + +When I had become a little morose at their perpetual laughter, I asked +for a bed, and the landlady, a woman of some talent, showed me on her +fingers that the beds were 50c., 75c., and a franc. I determined upon +the best, and was given indeed a very pleasant room, having in it the +statue of a saint, and full of a country air. But I had done too much +in this night march, as you will presently learn, for my next day was +a day without salt, and in it appreciation left me. And this breakdown +of appreciation was due to what I did not know at the time to be +fatigue, but to what was undoubtedly a deep inner exhaustion. + +When I awoke next morning it was as it always is: no one was awake, +and I had the field to myself, to slip out as I chose. I looked out of +the window into the dawn. The race had made its own surroundings. + +These people who suffocated with laughter at the idea of one's knowing +no German, had produced, as it were, a German picture by the mere +influence of years and years of similar thoughts. + +Out of my window I saw the eaves coming low down. I saw an apple-tree +against the grey light. The tangled grass in the little garden, the +dog-kennel, and the standing butt were all what I had seen in those +German pictures which they put into books for children, and which are +drawn in thick black lines: nor did I see any reason why tame faces +should not appear in that framework. I expected the light lank hair +and the heavy unlifting step of the people whose only emotions are in +music. + +But it was too early for any one to be about, and my German garden, +_si j'ose m'exprimer ainsi,_ had to suffice me for an impression of +the Central Europeans. I gazed at it a little while as it grew +lighter. Then I went downstairs and slipped the latch (which, being +German, was of a quaint design). I went out into the road and sighed +profoundly. + +All that day was destined to be covered, so far as my spirit was +concerned, with a motionless lethargy. Nothing seemed properly to +interest or to concern me, and not till evening was I visited by any +muse. Even my pain (which was now dull and chronic) was no longer a +subject for my entertainment, and I suffered from an uneasy isolation +that had not the merit of sharpness and was no spur to the mind. I had +the feeling that every one I might see would be a stranger, and that +their language would be unfamiliar to me, and this, unlike most men +who travel, I had never felt before. + +The reason being this: that if a man has English thoroughly he can +wander over a great part of the world familiarly, and meet men with +whom he can talk. And if he has French thoroughly all Italy, and I +suppose Spain, certainly Belgium, are open to him. Not perhaps that he +will understand what he hears or will be understood of others, but +that the order and nature of the words and the gestures accompanying +them are his own. Here, however, I, to whom English and French were +the same, was to spend (it seemed) whole days among a people who put +their verbs at the end, where the curses or the endearments come in +French and English, and many of whose words stand for ideas we have +not got. I had no room for good-fellowship. I could not sit at tables +and expand the air with terrible stories of adventure, nor ask about +their politics, nor provoke them to laughter or sadness by my tales. +It seemed a poor pilgrimage taken among dumb men. + +Also I have no doubt that I had experienced the ebb of some vitality, +for it is the saddest thing about us that this bright spirit with +which we are lit from within like lanterns, can suffer dimness. Such +frailty makes one fear that extinction is our final destiny, and it +saps us with numbness, and we are less than ourselves. Seven nights +had I been on pilgrimage, and two of them had I passed in the open. +Seven great heights had I climbed: the Forest, Archettes, the Ballon, +the Mont Terrible, the Watershed, the pass by Moutier, the +Weissenstein. Seven depths had I fallen to: twice to the Moselle, the +gap of Belfort, the gorge of the Doubs, Glovelier valley, the hole of +Moutier, and now this plain of the Aar. I had marched 180 miles. It +was no wonder that on this eighth day I was oppressed and that all the +light long I drank no good wine, met no one to remember well, nor sang +any songs. All this part of my way was full of what they call Duty, +and I was sustained only by my knowledge that the vast mountains +(which had disappeared) would be part of my life very soon if I still +went on steadily towards Rome. + +The sun had risen when I reached Burgdorf, and I there went to a +railway station, and outside of it drank coffee and ate bread. I also +bought old newspapers in French, and looked at everything wearily and +with sad eyes. There was nothing to draw. How can a man draw pain in +the foot and knee? And that was all there was remarkable at that +moment. + +I watched a train come in. It was full of tourists, who (it may have +been a subjective illusion) seemed to me common and worthless people, +and sad into the bargain. It was going to Interlaken; and I felt a +languid contempt for people who went to Interlaken instead of driving +right across the great hills to Rome. + +After an hour, or so of this melancholy dawdling, I put a map before +me on a little marble table, ordered some more coffee, and blew into +my tepid life a moment of warmth by the effort of coming to a +necessary decision. I had (for the first time since I had left +Lorraine) the choice of two roads; and why this was so the following +map will make clear. + +Here you see that there is no possibility of following the straight +way to Rome, but that one must go a few miles east or west of it. From +Burgundy one has to strike a point on the sources of the Emmen, and +Burgdorf is on the Emmen. Therefore one might follow the Emmen all the +way up. But it seemed that the road climbed up above a gorge that way, +whereas by the other (which is just as straight) the road is good (it +seemed) and fairly level. So I chose this latter Eastern way, which, +at the bifurcation, takes one up a tributary of the Emmen, then over a +rise to the Upper Emmen again. + +Do you want it made plainer than that? I should think not. And, tell +me--what can it profit you to know these geographical details? Believe +me, I write them down for my own gratification, not yours. + +I say a day without salt. A trudge. The air was ordinary, the colours +common; men, animals, and trees indifferent. Something had stopped +working. + +Our energy also is from God, and we should never be proud of it, even +if we can cover thirty miles day after day (as I can), or bend a peony +in one's hand as could Frocot, the driver in my piece--a man you never +knew--or write bad verse very rapidly as can so many moderns. I say +our energy also is from God, and we should never be proud of it as +though it were from ourselves, but we should accept it as a kind of +present, and we should be thankful for it; just as a man should thank +God for his reason, as did the madman in the Story of the Rose, who +thanked God that he at least was sane though all the rest of the world +had recently lost their reason. + +Indeed, this defaillance and breakdown which comes from time to time +over the mind is a very sad thing, but it can be made of great use to +us if we will draw from it the lesson that we ourselves are nothing. +Perhaps it is a grace. Perhaps in these moments our minds repose ... +Anyhow, a day without salt. + +You understand that under (or in) these circumstances-- + +When I was at Oxford there was a great and terrible debate that shook +the Empire, and that intensely exercised the men whom we send out to +govern the Empire, and which, therefore, must have had its effect upon +the Empire, as to whether one should say 'under these circumstances' +or 'in these circumstances'; nor did I settle matters by calling a +conclave and suggesting _Quae quum ita sint_ as a common formula, +because a new debate arose upon when you should say _sint_ and when +you should say _sunt,_ and they all wrangled like kittens in a basket. + +Until there rose a deep-voiced man from an outlying college, who said, +'For my part I will say that under these circumstances, or in these +circumstances, or in spite of these circumstances, or hovering +playfully above these circumstances, or-- + +I take you all for Fools and Pedants, in the Chief, in the Chevron, +and in the quarter Fess. Fools absolute, and Pedants lordless. Free +Fools, unlanded Fools, and Fools incommensurable, and Pedants +displayed and rampant of the Tierce Major. Fools incalculable and +Pedants irreparable; indeed, the arch Fool-pedants in a universe of +pedantic folly and foolish pedantry, O you pedant-fools of the world!' + +But by this time he was alone, and thus was this great question never +properly decided. + +Under these circumstances, then (or in these circumstances), it would +profit you but little if I were to attempt the description of the +Valley of the Emmen, of the first foot-hills of the Alps, and of the +very uninteresting valley which runs on from Langnau. + +I had best employ my time in telling the story of the Hungry Student. + +LECTOR. And if you are so worn-out and bereft of all emotions, how can +you tell a story? + +AUCTOR. These two conditions permit me. First, that I am writing some +time after, and that I have recovered; secondly, that the story is not +mine, but taken straight out of that nationalist newspaper which had +served me so long to wrap up my bread and bacon in my haversack. This +is the story, and I will tell it you. + +Now, I think of it, it would be a great waste of time. Here am I no +farther than perhaps a third of my journey, and I have already +admitted so much digression that my pilgrimage is like the story of a +man asleep and dreaming, instead of the plain, honest, and +straightforward narrative of fact. I will therefore postpone the Story +of the Hungry Student till I get into the plains of Italy, or into the +barren hills of that peninsula, or among the over-well-known towns of +Tuscany, or in some other place where a little padding will do neither +you nor me any great harm. + +On the other hand, do not imagine that I am going to give you any kind +of description of this intolerable day's march. If you want some kind +of visual Concept (pretty word), take all these little châlets which +were beginning and make what you can of them. + +LECTOR. Where are they? + +AUCTOR. They are still in Switzerland; not here. They were +overnumerous as I maundered up from where at last the road leaves the +valley and makes over a little pass for a place called Schangnau. But +though it is not a story, on the contrary, an exact incident and the +truth--a thing that I would swear to in the court of justice, or quite +willingly and cheerfully believe if another man told it to me; or even +take as historical if I found it in a modern English history of the +Anglo-Saxon Church--though, I repeat, it is a thing actually lived, +yet I will tell it you. + +It was at the very end of the road, and when an enormous weariness had +begun to add some kind of interest to this stuffless episode of the +dull day, that a peasant with a brutal face, driving a cart very +rapidly, came up with me. I said to him nothing, but he said to me +some words in German which I did not understand. We were at that +moment just opposite a little inn upon the right hand of the road, and +the peasant began making signs to me to hold his horse for him while +he went in and drank. + +How willing I was to do this you will not perhaps understand, unless +you have that delicate and subtle pleasure in the holding of horses' +heads, which is the boast and glory of some rare minds. And I was the +more willing to do it from the fact that I have the habit of this kind +of thing, acquired in the French manoeuvres, and had once held a horse +for no less a person than a General of Division, who gave me a franc +for it, and this franc I spent later with the men of my battery, +purchasing wine. So to make a long story short, as the publisher said +when he published the popular edition of _Pamela,_ I held the horse +for the peasant; always, of course, under the implicit understanding +that he should allow me when he came out to have a drink, which I, of +course, expected him to bring in his own hands. + +Far from it. I can understand the anger which some people feel against +the Swiss when they travel in that country, though I will always hold +that it is monstrous to come into a man's country of your own accord, +and especially into a country so free and so well governed as is +Switzerland, and then to quarrel with the particular type of citizen +that you find there. + +Let us not discuss politics. The point is that the peasant sat in +there drinking with his friends for a good three-quarters of an hour. +Now and then a man would come out and look at the sky, and cough and +spit and turn round again and say something to the people within in +German, and go off; but no one paid the least attention to me as I +held this horse. + +I was already in a very angry and irritable mood, for the horse was +restive and smelt his stable, and wished to break away from me. And +all angry and irritable as I was, I turned around to see if this man +were coming to relieve me; but I saw him laughing and joking with the +people inside; and they were all looking my way out of their window as +they laughed. I may have been wrong, but I thought they were laughing +at me. A man who knows the Swiss intimately, and who has written a +book upon 'The Drink Traffic: The Example of Switzerland', tells me +they certainly were not laughing at me; at any rate, I thought they +were, and moved by a sudden anger I let go the reins, gave the horse a +great clout, and set him off careering and galloping like a whirlwind +down the road from which he had come, with the bit in his teeth and +all the storms of heaven in his four feet. Instantly, as you may +imagine, all the scoffers came tumbling out of the inn, hullabooling, +gesticulating, and running like madmen after the horse, and one old +man even turned to protest to me. But I, setting my teeth, grasping my +staff, and remembering the purpose of my great journey, set on up the +road again with my face towards Rome. + +I sincerely hope, trust, and pray that this part of my journey will +not seem as dull to you as it did to me at the time, or as it does to +me now while I write of it. But now I come to think of it, it cannot +seem as dull, for I had to walk that wretched thirty miles or so all +the day long, whereas you have not even to read it; for I am not going +to say anything more about it, but lead you straight to the end. + +Oh, blessed quality of books, that makes them a refuge from living! +For in a book everything can be made to fit in, all tedium can be +skipped over, and the intense moments can be made timeless and +eternal, and as a poet who is too little known has well said in one of +his unpublished lyrics, we, by the art of writing-- + + Can fix the high elusive hour + And stand in things divine. + +And as for high elusive hours, devil a bit of one was there all the +way from Burgdorf to the Inn of the Bridge, except the ecstatic flash +of joy when I sent that horse careering down the road with his bad +master after him and all his gang shouting among the hollow hills. + +So. It was already evening. I was coming, more tired than ever, to a +kind of little pass by which my road would bring me back again to the +Emmen, now nothing but a torrent. All the slope down the other side of +the little pass (three or four hundred feet perhaps) was covered by a +village, called, if I remember right, Schangnau, and there was a large +school on my right and a great number of children there dancing round +in a ring and singing songs. The sight so cheered me that I +determined to press on up the valley, though with no definite goal for +the night. It was a foolish decision, for I was really in the heart of +an unknown country, at the end of roads, at the sources of rivers, +beyond help. I knew that straight before me, not five miles away, was +the Brienzer Grat, the huge high wall which it was my duty to cross +right over from side to side. I did not know whether or not there was +an inn between me and that vast barrier. + +The light was failing. I had perhaps some vague idea of sleeping out, +but that would have killed me, for a heavy mist that covered all the +tops of the hills and that made a roof over the valley, began to drop +down a fine rain; and, as they sing in church on Christmas Eve, 'the +heavens sent down their dews upon a just man'. But that was written in +Palestine, where rain is a rare blessing; there and then in the cold +evening they would have done better to have warmed the righteous. +There is no controlling them; they mean well, but they bungle +terribly. + +The road stopped being a road, and became like a Californian trail. I +approached enormous gates in the hills, high, precipitous, and narrow. +The mist rolled over them, hiding their summits and making them seem +infinitely lifted up and reaching endlessly into the thick sky; the +straight, tenuous lines of the rain made them seem narrower still. +Just as I neared them, hobbling, I met a man driving two cows, and +said to him the word, 'Guest-house?' to which he said 'Yaw!' and +pointed out a clump of trees to me just under the precipice and right +in the gates I speak of. So I went there over an old bridge, and found +a wooden house and went in. + +It was a house which one entered without ceremony. The door was open, +and one walked straight into a great room. There sat three men playing +at cards. I saluted them loudly in French, English, and Latin, but +they did not understand me, and what seemed remarkable in an hotel +(for it was an hotel rather than an inn), no one in the house +understood me--neither the servants nor any one; but the servants did +not laugh at me as had the poor people near Burgdorf, they only stood +round me looking at me patiently in wonder as cows do at trains. Then +they brought me food, and as I did not know the names of the different +kinds of food, I had to eat what they chose; and the angel of that +valley protected me from boiled mutton. I knew, however, the word +Wein, which is the same in all languages, and so drank a quart of it +consciously and of a set purpose. Then I slept, and next morning at +dawn I rose up, put on my thin, wet linen clothes, and went +downstairs. No one was about. I looked around for something to fill my +sack. I picked up a great hunk of bread from the dining-room table, +and went out shivering into the cold drizzle that was still falling +from a shrouded sky. Before me, a great forbidding wall, growing +blacker as it went upwards and ending in a level line of mist, stood +the Brienzer Grat. + +To understand what I next had to do it is necessary to look back at +the little map on page 105. + +You will observe that the straight way to Rome cuts the Lake of Brienz +rather to the eastward of the middle, and then goes slap over +Wetterhorn and strikes the Rhone Valley at a place called Ulrichen. +That is how a bird would do it, if some High Pope of Birds lived in +Rome and needed visiting, as, for instance, the Great Auk; or if some +old primal relic sacred to birds was connected therewith, as, for +instance, the bones of the Dodo.... But I digress. The point is that +the straight line takes one over the Brienzer Grat, over the lake, and +then over the Wetterhorn. That was manifestly impossible. But whatever +of it was possible had to be done, and among the possible things was +clambering over the high ridge of the Brienzer Grat instead of going +round like a coward by Interlaken. After I had clambered over it, +however, needs must I should have to take a pass called the Grimsel +Pass and reach the Rhone Valley that way. It was with such a +determination that I had come here to the upper waters of the Emmen, +and stood now on a moist morning in the basin where that stream rises, +at the foot of the mountain range that divided me from the lake. + +The Brienzer Grat is an extraordinary thing. It is quite straight; its +summits are, of course, of different heights, but from below they seem +even, like a ridge: and, indeed, the whole mountain is more like a +ridge than any other I have seen. At one end is a peak called the 'Red +Horn', the other end falls suddenly above Interlaken, and wherever you +should cut it you would get a section like this, for it is as steep as +anything can be short of sheer rock. There are no precipices on it, +though there are nasty slabs quite high enough to kill a man--I saw +several of three or four hundred feet. It is about five or six +thousand feet high, and it stands right up and along the northern +shore of the lake of Brienz. I began the ascent. + +Spongy meads, that soughed under the feet and grew steeper as one +rose, took up the first few hundred feet. Little rivulets of mere +dampness ran in among the under moss, and such very small hidden +flowers as there were drooped with the surfeit of moisture. The rain +was now indistinguishable from a mist, and indeed I had come so near +to the level belt of cloud, that already its gloom was exchanged for +that diffused light which fills vapours from within and lends them +their mystery. A belt of thick brushwood and low trees lay before me, +clinging to the slope, and as I pushed with great difficulty and many +turns to right and left through its tangle a wisp of cloud enveloped +me, and from that time on I was now in, now out, of a deceptive +drifting fog, in which it was most difficult to gauge one's progress. + +Now and then a higher mass of rock, a peak on the ridge, would showr +clear through a corridor of cloud and be hidden again; also at times I +would stand hesitating before a sharp wall or slab, and wait for a +shifting of the fog to make sure of the best way round. I struck what +might have been a loose path or perhaps only a gully; lost it again +and found it again. In one place I climbed up a jagged surface for +fifty feet, only to find when it cleared that it was no part of the +general ascent, but a mere obstacle which might have been outflanked. +At another time I stopped for a good quarter of an hour at an edge +that might have been an indefinite fall of smooth rock, but that +turned out to be a short drop, easy for a man, and not much longer +than my body. So I went upwards always, drenched and doubting, and not +sure of the height I had reached at any time. + +At last I came to a place where a smooth stone lay between two +pillared monoliths, as though it had been put there for a bench. +Though all around me was dense mist, yet I could see above me the +vague shape of a summit looming quite near. So I said to myself-- + +'I will sit here and wait till it grows lighter and clearer, for I +must now be within two or three hundred feet of the top of the ridge, +and as anything at all may be on the other side, I had best go +carefully and knowing my way.' + +So I sat down facing the way I had to go and looking upwards, till +perhaps a movement of the air might show me against a clear sky the +line of the ridge, and so let me estimate the work that remained to +do. I kept my eyes fixed on the point where I judged that sky line to +lie, lest I should miss some sudden gleam revealing it; and as I sat +there I grew mournful and began to consider the folly of climbing this +great height on an empty stomach. The soldiers of the Republic fought +their battles often before breakfast, but never, I think, without +having drunk warm coffee, and no one should attempt great efforts +without some such refreshment before starting. Indeed, my fasting, +and the rare thin air of the height, the chill and the dampness that +had soaked my thin clothes through and through, quite lowered my blood +and left it piano, whimpering and irresolute. I shivered and demanded +the sun. + +Then I bethought me of the hunk of bread I had stolen, and pulling it +out of my haversack I began to munch that ungrateful breakfast. It was +hard and stale, and gave me little sustenance; I still gazed upwards +into the uniform meaningless light fog, looking for the ridge. + +Suddenly, with no warning to prepare the mind, a faint but distinct +wind blew upon me, the mist rose in a wreath backward and upward, and +I was looking through clear immensity, not at any ridge, but over an +awful gulf at great white fields of death. The Alps were right upon me +and before me, overwhelming and commanding empty downward distances of +air. Between them and me was a narrow dreadful space of nothingness +and silence, and a sheer mile below us both, a floor to that +prodigious hollow, lay the little lake. + +My stone had not been a halting-place at all, but was itself the +summit of the ridge, and those two rocks on either side of it framed a +notch upon the very edge and skyline of the high hills of Brienz. + +Surprise and wonder had not time to form in my spirit before both were +swallowed up by fear. The proximity of that immense wall of cold, the +Alps, seen thus full from the level of its middle height and +comprehended as it cannot be from the depths; its suggestion of +something never changing throughout eternity--yet dead--was a threat +to the eager mind. They, the vast Alps, all wrapped round in ice, +frozen, and their immobility enhanced by the delicate, roaming veils +which (as from an attraction) hovered in their hollows, seemed to halt +the process of living. And the living soul whom they thus perturbed +was supported by no companionship. There were no trees or blades of +grass around me, only the uneven and primal stones of that height. +There were no birds in the gulf; there was no sound. And the whiteness +of the glaciers, the blackness of the snow-streaked rocks beyond, was +glistening and unsoftened. There had come something evil into their +sublimity. I was afraid. + +Nor could I bear to look downwards. The slope was in no way a danger. +A man could walk up it without often using his hands, and a man could +go down it slowly without any direct fall, though here and there he +would have to turn round at each dip or step and hold with his hands +and feel a little for his foothold. I suppose the general slope, down, +down, to where the green began was not sixty degrees, but have you +ever tried looking down five thousand feet at sixty degrees? It drags +the mind after it, and I could not bear to begin the descent. + +However I reasoned with myself. I said to myself that a man should +only be afraid of real dangers. That nightmare was not for the +daylight. That there was now no mist but a warm sun. Then choosing a +gully where water sometimes ran, but now dry, I warily began to +descend, using my staff and leaning well backwards. + +There was this disturbing thing about the gully, that it went in +steps, and before each step one saw the sky just a yard or two ahead: +one lost the comforting sight of earth. One knew of course that it +would only be a little drop, and that the slope would begin again, but +it disturbed one. And it is a trial to drop or clamber down, say +fourteen or fifteen feet, sometimes twenty, and then to find no flat +foothold but that eternal steep beginning again. And this outline in +which I have somewhat, but not much, exaggerated the slope, will show +what I mean. The dotted line is the line of vision just as one got to +a 'step'. The little figure is AUCTOR. LECTOR is up in the air looking +at him. Observe the perspective of the lake below, but make no +comments. + +I went very slowly. When I was about half-way down and had come to a +place where a shoulder of heaped rock stood on my left and where +little parallel ledges led up to it, having grown accustomed to the +descent and easier in my mind, I sat down on a slab and drew +imperfectly the things I saw: the lake below me, the first forests +clinging to the foot of the Alps beyond, their higher slopes of snow, +and the clouds that had now begun to gather round them and that +altogether hid the last third of their enormous height. + +Then I saw a steamer on the lake. I felt in touch with men. The slope +grew easier. I snapped my fingers at the great devils that haunt high +mountains. I sniffed the gross and comfortable air of the lower +valleys, I entered the belt of wood and was soon going quite a pace +through the trees, for I had found a path, and was now able to sing. +So I did. + +At last I saw through the trunks, but a few hundred feet below me, the +highroad that skirts the lake. I left the path and scrambled straight +down to it. I came to a wall which I climbed, and found myself in +somebody's garden. Crossing this and admiring its wealth and order (I +was careful not to walk on the lawns), I opened a little private gate +and came on to the road, and from there to Brienz was but a short way +along a fine hard surface in a hot morning sun, with the gentle lake +on my right hand not five yards away, and with delightful trees upon +my left, caressing and sometimes even covering me with their shade. + +I was therefore dry, ready and contented when I entered by mid morning +the curious town of Brienz, which is all one long street, and of which +the population is Protestant. I say dry, ready and contented; dry in +my clothes, ready for food, contented with men and nature. But as I +entered I squinted up that interminable slope, I saw the fog wreathing +again along the ridge so infinitely above me, and I considered myself +a fool to have crossed the Brienzer Grat without breakfast. But I +could get no one in Brienz to agree with me, because no one thought I +had done it, though several people there could talk French. + +The Grimsel Pass is the valley of the Aar; it is also the eastern +flank of that great _massif,_ or bulk and mass of mountains called the +Bernese Oberland. Western Switzerland, you must know, is not (as I +first thought it was when I gazed down from the Weissenstein) a plain +surrounded by a ring of mountains, but rather it is a plain in its +northern half (the plain of the lower Aar), and in its southern half +it is two enormous parallel lumps of mountains. I call them 'lumps', +because they are so very broad and tortuous in their plan that they +are hardly ranges. Now these two lumps are the Bernese Oberland and +the Pennine Alps, and between them runs a deep trench called the +valley of the Rhone. Take Mont Blanc in the west and a peak called the +Crystal Peak over the Val Bavona on the east, and they are the +flanking bastions of one great wall, the Pennine Alps. Take the +Diablerets on the west, and the Wetterhorn on the east, and they are +the flanking bastions of another great wall, the Bernese Oberland. And +these two walls are parallel, with the Rhone in between. + +Now these two walls converge at a point where there is a sort of knot +of mountain ridges, and this point may be taken as being on the +boundary between Eastern and Western Switzerland. At this wonderful +point the Ticino, the Rhone, the Aar, and the Reuss all begin, and it +is here that the simple arrangement of the Alps to the west turns into +the confused jumble of the Alps to the east. + +When you are high up on either wall you can catch the plan of all +this, but to avoid a confused description and to help you to follow +the marvellous, Hannibalian and never-before-attempted charge and +march which I made, and which, alas! ended only in a glorious +defeat--to help you to picture faintly to yourselves the mirific and +horripilant adventure whereby I nearly achieved superhuman success in +spite of all the powers of the air, I append a little map which is +rough but clear and plain, and which I beg you to study closely, for +it will make it easy for you to understand what next happened in my +pilgrimage. + +The dark strips are the deep cloven valleys, the shaded belt is that +higher land which is yet passable by any ordinary man. The part left +white you may take to be the very high fields of ice and snow with +great peaks which an ordinary man must regard as impassable, unless, +indeed, he can wait for his weather and take guides and go on as a +tourist instead of a pilgrim. + +You will observe that I have marked five clefts or valleys. A is that +of the _Aar,_ and the little white patch at the beginning is the lake +of Brienz. B is that of the _Reuss._ C is that of the _Rhone;_ and all +these three are _north_ of the great watershed or main chain, and all +three are full of German-speaking people. + +On the other hand, D is the valley of the _Toccia,_ E of the _Maggia,_ +and F of the _Ticino._ All these three are _south_ of the great +watershed, and are inhabited by Italian-speaking people. All these +three lead down at last to Lake Major, and so to Milan and so to Rome. + +The straight line to Rome is marked on my map by a dotted line ending +in an arrow, and you will see that it was just my luck that it should +cross slap over that knot or tangle of ranges where all the rivers +spring. The problem was how to negotiate a passage from the valley of +the Aar to one of the three Italian valleys, without departing too far +from my straight line. To explain my track I must give the names of +all the high passes between the valleys. That between A and C is +called the _Grimsel;_ that between B and C the _Furka._ That between D +and C is the _Gries_ Pass, that between F and C the _Nufenen,_ and +that between E and F is not the easy thing it looks on the map; indeed +it is hardly a pass at all but a scramble over very high peaks, and it +is called the Crystalline Mountain. Finally, on the far right of my +map, you see a high passage between B and F. This is the famous St +Gothard. + +The straightest way of all was (1) over the _Grimsel,_ then, the +moment I got into the valley of the Rhone (2), up out of it again over +the _Nufenen,_ then the moment I was down into the valley of the +_Ticino_ (F), up out of it again (3) over the Crystalline to the +valley of the _Maggia_ (E). Once in the Maggia valley (the top of it +is called the _Val Bavona),_ it is a straight path for the lakes and +Rome. There were also these advantages: that I should be in a place +very rarely visited--all the guide-books are doubtful on it; that I +should be going quite straight; that I should be accomplishing a feat, +viz. the crossing of those high passes one after the other (and you +must remember that over the Nufenen there is no road at all). + +But every one I asked told me that thus early in the year (it was not +the middle of June) I could not hope to scramble over the Crystalline. +No one (they said) could do it and live. It was all ice and snow and +cold mist and verglas, and the precipices were smooth--a man would +never get across; so it was not worth while crossing the Nufenen Pass +if I was to be balked at the Crystal, and I determined on the Gries +Pass. I said to myself: 'I will go on over the Grimsel, and once in +the valley of the Rhone, I will walk a mile or two down to where the +Gries Pass opens, and I will go over it into Italy.' For the Gries +Pass, though not quite in the straight line, had this advantage, that +once over it you are really in Italy. In the Ticino valley or in the +Val Bavona, though the people are as Italian as Catullus, yet +politically they count as part of Switzerland; and therefore if you +enter Italy thereby, you are not suddenly introduced to that country, +but, as it were, inoculated, and led on by degrees, which is a pity. +For good things should come suddenly, like the demise of that wicked +man, Mr _(deleted by the censor),_ who had oppressed the poor for some +forty years, when he was shot dead from behind a hedge, and died in +about the time it takes to boil an egg, and there was an end of him. + +Having made myself quite clear that I had a formed plan to go over the +Grimsel by the new road, then up over the Gries, where there is no +road at all, and so down into the vale of the Tosa, and having +calculated that on the morrow I should be in Italy, I started out from +Brienz after eating a great meal, it being then about midday, and I +having already, as you know, crossed the Brienzer Grat since dawn. + +The task of that afternoon was more than I could properly undertake, +nor did I fulfil it. From Brienz to the top of the Grimsel is, as the +crow flies, quite twenty miles, and by the road a good twenty-seven. +It is true I had only come from over the high hills; perhaps six miles +in a straight line. But what a six miles! and all without food. Not +certain, therefore, how much of the pass I could really do that day, +but aiming at crossing it, like a fool, I went on up the first miles. + +For an hour or more after Brienz the road runs round the base of and +then away from a fine great rock. There is here an alluvial plain like +a continuation of the lake, and the Aar runs through it, canalized and +banked and straight, and at last the road also becomes straight. On +either side rise gigantic cliffs enclosing the valley, and (on the day +I passed there) going up into the clouds, which, though high, yet made +a roof for the valley. From the great mountains on the left the noble +rock jutted out alone and dominated the little plain; on the right the +buttresses of the main Alps all stood in a row, and between them went +whorls of vapour high, high up--just above the places where snow still +clung to the slopes. These whorls made the utmost steeps more and more +misty, till at last they were lost in a kind of great darkness, in +which the last and highest banks of ice seemed to be swallowed up. I +often stopped to gaze straight above me, and I marvelled at the +silence. + +It was the first part of the afternoon when I got to a place called +Meiringen, and I thought that there I would eat and drink a little +more. So I steered into the main street, but there I found such a +yelling and roaring as I had never heard before, and very damnable it +was; as though men were determined to do common evil wherever God has +given them a chance of living in awe and worship. + +For they were all bawling and howling, with great placards and +tickets, and saying, 'This way to the Extraordinary Waterfall; that +way to the Strange Cave. Come with me and you shall see the +never-to-be-forgotten Falls of the Aar,' and so forth. So that my +illusion of being alone in the roots of the world dropped off me very +quickly, and I wondered how people could be so helpless and foolish as +to travel about in Switzerland as tourists and meet with all this +vulgarity and beastliness. + +If a man goes to drink good wine he does not say, 'So that the wine be +good I do not mind eating strong pepper and smelling hartshorn as I +drink it,' and if a man goes to read a good verse, for instance, Jean +Richepin, he does not say, 'Go on playing on the trombone, go on +banging the cymbals; so long as I am reading good verse I am content.' +Yet men now go into the vast hills and sleep and live in their +recesses, and pretend to be indifferent to all the touts and shouters +and hurry and hotels and high prices and abominations. Thank God, it +goes in grooves! I say it again, thank God, the railways are trenches +that drain our modern marsh, for you have but to avoid railways, even +by five miles, and you can get more peace than would fill a nosebag. +All the world is my garden since they built railways, and gave me +leave to keep off them. + +Also I vowed a franc to the Black Virgin of La Delivrande (next time I +should be passing there) because I was delivered from being a tourist, +and because all this horrible noise was not being dinned at me (who +was a poor and dirty pilgrim, and no kind of prey for these cabmen, +and busmen, and guides and couriers), but at a crowd of drawn, sad, +jaded tourists that had come in by a train. + +Soon I had left them behind. The road climbed the first step upwards +in the valley, going round a rock on the other side of which the Aar +had cut itself a gorge and rushed in a fall and rapids. Then the road +went on and on weary mile after weary mile, and I stuck to it, and it +rose slowly all the time, and all the time the Aar went dashing by, +roaring and filling the higher valley with echoes. + +I got beyond the villages. The light shining suffused through the +upper mist began to be the light of evening. Rain, very fine and +slight, began to fall. It was cold. There met and passed me, going +down the road, a carriage with a hood up, driving at full speed. It +could not be from over the pass, for I knew that it was not yet open +for carriages or carts. It was therefore from a hotel somewhere, and +if there was a hotel I should find it. I looked back to ask the +distance, but they were beyond earshot, and so I went on. + +My boots in which I had sworn to walk to Rome were ruinous. Already +since the Weissenstein they had gaped, and now the Brienzer Grat had +made the sole of one of them quite free at the toe. It flapped as I +walked. Very soon I should be walking on my uppers. I limped also, and +I hated the wet cold rain. But I had to go on. Instead of flourishing +my staff and singing, I leant on it painfully and thought of duty, and +death, and dereliction, and every other horrible thing that begins +with a D. I had to go on. If I had gone back there was nothing for +miles. + +Before it was dark--indeed one could still read--I saw a group of +houses beyond the Aar, and soon after I saw that my road would pass +them, going over a bridge. When I reached them I went into the first, +saying to myself, 'I will eat, and if I can go no farther I will sleep +here.' + +There were in the house two women, one old, the other young; and they +were French-speaking, from the Vaud country. They had faces like +Scotch people, and were very kindly, but odd, being Calvinist. I said, +'Have you any beans?' They said, 'Yes.' I suggested they should make +me a dish of beans and bacon, and give me a bottle of wine, while I +dried myself at their great stove. All this they readily did for me, +and I ate heartily and drank heavily, and they begged me afterwards to +stop the night and pay them for it; but I was so set up by my food and +wine that I excused myself and went out again and took the road. It +was not yet dark. + +By some reflection from the fields of snow, which were now quite near +at hand through the mist, the daylight lingered astonishingly late. +The cold grew bitter as I went on through the gloaming. There were no +trees save rare and stunted pines. The Aar was a shallow brawling +torrent, thick with melting ice and snow and mud. Coarse grass grew on +the rocks sparsely; there were no flowers. The mist overhead was now +quite near, and I still went on and steadily up through the +half-light. It was as lonely as a calm at sea, except for the noise of +the river. I had overworn myself, and that sustaining surface which +hides from us in our health the abysses below the mind--I felt it +growing weak and thin. My fatigue bewildered me. The occasional steeps +beside the road, one especially beneath a high bridge where a +tributary falls into the Aar in a cascade, terrified me. They were +like the emptiness of dreams. At last it being now dark, and I having +long since entered the upper mist, or rather cloud (for I was now as +high as the clouds), I saw a light gleaming through the fog, just off +the road, through pine-trees. It was time. I could not have gone much +farther. + +To this I turned and found there one of those new hotels, not very +large, but very expensive. They knew me at once for what I was, and +welcomed me with joy. They gave me hot rum and sugar, a fine warm bed, +told me I was the first that had yet stopped there that year, and left +me to sleep very deep and yet in pain, as men sleep who are stunned. +But twice that night I woke suddenly, staring at darkness. I had +outworn the physical network upon which the soul depends, and I was +full of terrors. + +Next morning I had fine coffee and bread and butter and the rest, like +a rich man; in a gilded dining-room all set out for the rich, and +served by a fellow that bowed and scraped. Also they made me pay a +great deal, and kept their eyes off my boots, and were still courteous +to me, and I to them. Then I bought wine of them--the first wine not +of the country that I had drunk on this march, a Burgundy--and putting +it in my haversack with a nice white roll, left them to wait for the +next man whom the hills might send them. + +The clouds, the mist, were denser than ever in that early morning; one +could only see the immediate road. The cold was very great; my clothes +were not quite dried, but my heart was high, and I pushed along well +enough, though stiffly, till I came to what they call the Hospice, +which was once a monk-house, I suppose, but is now an inn. I had +brandy there, and on going out I found that it stood at the foot of a +sharp ridge which was the true Grimsel Pass, the neck which joins the +Bernese Oberland to the eastern group of high mountains. This ridge or +neck was steep like a pitched roof--very high I found it, and all of +black glassy rock, with here and there snow in sharp, even, sloping +sheets just holding to it. I could see but little of it at a time on +account of the mist. + +Hitherto for all these miles the Aar had been my companion, and the +road, though rising always, had risen evenly and not steeply. Now the +Aar was left behind in the icy glen where it rises, and the road went +in an artificial and carefully built set of zig-zags up the face of +the cliff. There is a short cut, but I could not find it in the mist. +It is the old mule-path. Here and there, however, it was possible to +cut off long corners by scrambling over the steep black rock and +smooth ice, and all the while the cold, soft mist wisped in and out +around me. After a thousand feet of this I came to the top of the +Grimsel, but not before I had passed a place where an avalanche had +destroyed the road and where planks were laid. Also before one got to +the very summit, no short cuts or climbing were possible. The road +ran deep in a cutting like a Devonshire lane. Only here the high banks +were solid snow. + +Some little way past the summit, on the first zig-zag down, I passed +the Lake of the Dead in its mournful hollow. The mist still enveloped +all the ridge-side, and moved like a press of spirits over the frozen +water, then--as suddenly as on the much lower Brienzer Grat, and (as +on the Brienzer Grat) to the southward and the sun, the clouds lifted +and wreathed up backward and were gone, and where there had just been +fulness was only an immensity of empty air and a sudden sight of clear +hills beyond and of little strange distant things thousands and +thousands of feet below. + +LECTOR. Pray are we to have any more of that fine writing? + +AUCTOR. I saw there as in a cup things that I had thought (when I +first studied the map at home) far too spacious and spread apart to go +into the view. Yet here they were all quite contained and close +together, on so vast a scale was the whole place conceived. It was the +comb of mountains of which I have written; the meeting of all the +valleys. + +There, from the height of a steep bank, as it were (but a bank many +thousands of feet high), one looked down into a whole district or +little world. On the map, I say, it had seemed so great that I had +thought one would command but this or that portion of it; as it was, +one saw it all. + +And this is a peculiar thing I have noticed in all mountains, and have +never been able to understand--- namely, that if you draw a plan or +section to scale, your mountain does not seem a very important thing. +One should not, in theory, be able to dominate from its height, nor to +feel the world small below one, nor to hold a whole countryside in +one's hand--yet one does. The mountains from their heights reveal to +us two truths. They suddenly make us feel our insignificance, and at +the same time they free the immortal Mind, and let it feel its +greatness, and they release it from the earth. But I say again, in +theory, when one considers the exact relation of their height to the +distances one views from them, they ought to claim no such effect, and +that they can produce that effect is related to another thing--the way +in which they exaggerate their own steepness. + +For instance, those noble hills, my downs in Sussex, when you are upon +them overlooking the weald, from Chanctonbury say, feel like this--or +even lower. Indeed, it is impossible to give them truly, so +insignificant are they; if the stretch of the Weald were made nearly a +yard long, Chanctonbury would not, in proportion, be more than a fifth +of an inch high! And yet, from the top of Chanctonbury, how one seems +to overlook it and possess it all! + +Well, so it was here from the Grimsel when I overlooked the springs of +the Rhone. In true proportion the valley I gazed into and over must +have been somewhat like this-- + +It felt for all the world as deep and utterly below me as this other-- + +Moreover, where there was no mist, the air was so surprisingly clear +that I could see everything clean and sharp wherever I turned my eyes. +The mountains forbade any very far horizons to the view, and all that +I could see was as neat and vivid as those coloured photographs they +sell with bright green grass and bright white snow, and blue glaciers +like precious stones. + +I scrambled down the mountain, for here, on the south side of the +pass, there was no snow or ice, and it was quite easy to leave the +road and take the old path cutting off the zig-zags. As the air got +heavier, I became hungry, and at the very end of my descent, two +hundred feet or so above the young Rhone, I saw a great hotel. I went +round to their front door and asked them whether I could eat, and at +what price. 'Four francs,' they said. + +'What!' said I, 'four francs for a meal! Come, let me eat in the +kitchen, and charge me one.' But they became rude and obstinate, being +used only to deal with rich people, so I cursed them, and went down +the road. But I was very hungry. + +The road falls quite steeply, and the Rhone, which it accompanies in +that valley, leaps in little falls. On a bridge I passed a sad +Englishman reading a book, and a little lower down, two American women +in a carriage, and after that a priest (it was lucky I did not see him +first. Anyhow, I touched iron at once, to wit, a key in my pocket), +and after that a child minding a goat. Altogether I felt myself in the +world again, and as I was on a good road, all down hill, I thought +myself capable of pushing on to the next village. But my hunger was +really excessive, my right boot almost gone, and my left boot nothing +to exhibit or boast of, when I came to a point where at last one +looked down the Rhone valley for miles. It is like a straight trench, +and at intervals there are little villages, built of most filthy +chalets, the said chalets raised on great stones. There are pine-trees +up, up on either slope, into the clouds, and beyond the clouds I could +not see. I left on my left a village called 'Between the Waters'. I +passed through another called 'Ehringen', but it has no inn. At last, +two miles farther, faint from lack of food, I got into Ulrichen, a +village a little larger than the rest, and the place where I believed +one should start to go either over the Gries or Nufenen Pass. In +Ulrichen was a warm, wooden, deep-eaved, frousty, comfortable, +ramshackle, dark, anyhow kind of a little inn called 'The Bear'. And +entering, I saw one of the women whom god loves. + +She was of middle age, very honest and simple in the face, kindly and +good. She was messing about with cooking and stuff, and she came up +to me stooping a little, her eyes wide and innocent, and a great spoon +in her hand. Her face was extremely broad and flat, and I have never +seen eyes set so far apart. Her whole gait, manner, and accent proved +her to be extremely good, and on the straight road to heaven. I +saluted her in the French tongue. She answered me in the same, but +very broken and rustic, for her natural speech was a kind of mountain +German. She spoke very slowly, and had a nice soft voice, and she did +what only good people do, I mean, looked you in the eyes as she spoke +to you. + +Beware of shifty-eyed people. It is not only nervousness, it is also a +kind of wickedness. Such people come to no good. I have three of them +now in my mind as I write. One is a Professor. + +And, by the way, would you like to know why universities suffer from +this curse of nervous disease? Why the great personages stammer or +have St Vitus' dance, or jabber at the lips, or hop in their walk, or +have their heads screwed round, or tremble in the fingers, or go +through life with great goggles like a motor car? Eh? I will tell you. +It is the punishment of their _intellectual pride,_ than which no sin +is more offensive to the angels. + +What! here are we with the jolly world of God all round us, able to +sing, to draw, to paint, to hammer and build, to sail, to ride horses, +to run, to leap; having for our splendid inheritance love in youth and +memory in old age, and we are to take one miserable little faculty, +our one-legged, knock-kneed, gimcrack, purblind, rough-skinned, +underfed, and perpetually irritated and grumpy intellect, or +analytical curiosity rather (a diseased appetite), and let it swell +till it eats up every other function? Away with such foolery. + +LECTOR. When shall we get on to ... + +AUCTOR. Wait a moment. I say, away with such foolery. Note that +pedants lose all proportion. They never can keep sane in a discussion. +They will go wild on matters they are wholly unable to judge, such as +Armenian Religion or the Politics of Paris or what not. Never do they +use one of those three phrases which keep a man steady and balance his +mind, I mean the words (1) _After all it is not my business. (2) Tut! +tut! You don't say so! and (3) _Credo in Unum Deum Patrem +Omnipotentem, Factorem omnium visibilium atque invisibilium;_ in which +last there is a power of synthesis that can jam all their analytical +dust-heap into such a fine, tight, and compact body as would make them +stare to see. I understand that they need six months' holiday a year. +Had I my way they should take twelve, and an extra day on leap years. + +LECTOR. Pray, pray return to the woman at the inn. + +AUCTOR. I will, and by this road: to say that on the day of Judgement, +when St Michael weighs souls in his scales, and the wicked are led off +by the Devil with a great rope, as you may see them over the main +porch of Notre Dame (I will heave a stone after them myself I hope), +all the souls of the pedants together will not weigh as heavy and +sound as the one soul of this good woman at the inn. + +She put food before me and wine. The wine was good, but in the food +was some fearful herb or other I had never tasted before--a pure spice +or scent, and a nasty one. One could taste nothing else, and it was +revolting; but I ate it for her sake. + +Then, very much refreshed, I rose, seized my great staff, shook myself +and said, 'Now it is about noon, and I am off for the frontier.' + +At this she made a most fearful clamour, saying that it was madness, +and imploring me not to think of it, and running out fetched from the +stable a tall, sad, pale-eyed man who saluted me profoundly and told +me that he knew more of the mountains than any one for miles. And this +by asking many afterwards I found out to be true. He said that he had +crossed the Nufenen and the Gries whenever they could be crossed since +he was a child, and that if I attempted it that day I should sleep +that night in Paradise. The clouds on the mountain, the soft snow +recently fallen, the rain that now occupied the valleys, the glacier +on the Gries, and the pathless snow in the mist on the Nufenen would +make it sheer suicide for him, an experienced guide, and for me a +worse madness. Also he spoke of my boots and wondered at my poor coat +and trousers, and threatened me with intolerable cold. + +It seems that the books I had read at home, when they said that the +Nufenen had no snow on it, spoke of a later season of the year; it was +all snow now, and soft snow, and hidden by a full mist in such a day +from the first third of the ascent. As for the Gries, there was a +glacier on the top which needed some kind of clearness in the weather. +Hearing all this I said I would remain--but it was with a heavy heart. +Already I felt a shadow of defeat over me. The loss of time was a +thorn. I was already short of cash, and my next money was Milan. My +return to England was fixed for a certain date, and stronger than +either of these motives against delay was a burning restlessness that +always takes men when they are on the way to great adventures. + +I made him promise to wake me next morning at three o'clock, and, +short of a tempest, to try and get me across the Gries. As for the +Nufenen and Crystalline passes which I had desired to attempt, and +which were (as I have said) the straight line to Rome, he said (and he +was right), that let alone the impassability of the Nufenen just then, +to climb the Crystal Mountain in that season would be as easy as +flying to the moon. Now, to cross the Nufenen alone, would simply land +me in the upper valley of the Ticino, and take me a great bend out of +my way by Bellinzona. Hence my bargain that at least he should show me +over the Gries Pass, and this he said, if man could do it, he would do +the next day; and I, sending my boots to be cobbled (and thereby +breaking another vow), crept up to bed, and all afternoon read the +school-books of the children. They were in French, from lower down the +valley, and very Genevese and heretical for so devout a household. But +the Genevese civilization is the standard for these people, and they +combat the Calvinism of it with missions, and have statues in their +rooms, not to speak of holy water stoups. + +The rain beat on my window, the clouds came lower still down the +mountain. Then (as is finely written in the Song of Roland), 'the day +passed and the night came, and I slept.' But with the coming of the +small hours, and with my waking, prepare yourselves for the most +extraordinary and terrible adventure that befell me out of all the +marvels and perils of this pilgrimage, the most momentous and the most +worthy of perpetual record, I think, of all that has ever happened +since the beginning of the world. + +At three o'clock the guide knocked at my door, and I rose and came out +to him. We drank coffee and ate bread. We put into our sacks ham and +bread, and he white wine and I brandy. Then we set out. The rain had +dropped to a drizzle, and there was no wind. The sky was obscured for +the most part, but here and there was a star. The hills hung awfully +above us in the night as we crossed the spongy valley. A little wooden +bridge took us over the young Rhone, here only a stream, and we +followed a path up into the tributary ravine which leads to the +Nufenen and the Gries. In a mile or two it was a little lighter, and +this was as well, for some weeks before a great avalanche had fallen, +and we had to cross it gingerly. Beneath the wide cap of frozen snow +ran a torrent roaring. I remembered Colorado, and how I had crossed +the Arkansaw on such a bridge as a boy. We went on in the uneasy dawn. +The woods began to show, and there was a cross where a man had slipped +from above that very April and been killed. Then, most ominous and +disturbing, the drizzle changed to a rain, and the guide shook his +head and said it would be snowing higher up. We went on, and it grew +lighter. Before it was really day (or else the weather confused and +darkened the sky), we crossed a good bridge, built long ago, and we +halted at a shed where the cattle lie in the late summer when the snow +is melted. There we rested a moment. + +But on leaving its shelter we noticed many disquieting things. The +place was a hollow, the end of the ravine--a bowl, as it were; one way +out of which is the Nufenen, and the other the Gries. + +Here it is in a sketch map. The heights are marked lighter and +lighter, from black in the valleys to white in the impassable +mountains. E is where we stood, in a great cup or basin, having just +come up the ravine B. C is the Italian valley of the Tosa, and the +neck between it and E is the Gries. D is the valley of the Ticino, +and the neck between E and it is the Nufenen. A is the Crystal +Mountain. You may take the necks or passes to be about 8000, and the +mountains 10,000 or 11,000 feet above the sea. + +We noticed, I say, many disquieting things. First, all, that bowl or +cup below the passes was a carpet of snow, save where patches of black +water showed, and all the passes and mountains, from top to bottom, +were covered with very thick snow; the deep surface of it soft and +fresh fallen. Secondly, the rain had turned into snow. It was falling +thickly all around. Nowhere have I more perceived the immediate +presence of great Death. Thirdly, it was far colder, and we felt the +beginning of a wind. Fourthly, the clouds had come quite low down. + +The guide said it could not be done, but I said we must attempt it. I +was eager, and had not yet felt the awful grip of the cold. We left +the Nufenen on our left, a hopeless steep of new snow buried in fog, +and we attacked the Gries. For half-an-hour we plunged on through snow +above our knees, and my thin cotton clothes were soaked. So far the +guide knew we were more or less on the path, and he went on and I +panted after him. Neither of us spoke, but occasionally he looked back +to make sure I had not dropped out. + +The snow began to fall more thickly, and the wind had risen somewhat. +I was afraid of another protest from the guide, but he stuck to it +well, and I after him, continually plunging through soft snow and +making yard after yard upwards. The snow fell more thickly and the +wind still rose. + +We came to a place which is, in the warm season, an alp; that is, a +slope of grass, very steep but not terrifying; having here and there +sharp little precipices of rock breaking it into steps, but by no +means (in summer) a matter to make one draw back. Now, however, when +everything was still Arctic it was a very different matter. A sheer +steep of snow whose downward plunge ran into the driving storm and was +lost, whose head was lost in the same mass of thick cloud above, a +slope somewhat hollowed and bent inwards, had to be crossed if we were +to go any farther; and I was terrified, for I knew nothing of +climbing. The guide said there was little danger, only if one slipped +one might slide down to safety, or one might (much less probably) get +over rocks and be killed. I was chattering a little with cold; but as +he did not propose a return, I followed him. The surface was +alternately slabs of frozen snow and patches of soft new snow. In the +first he cut steps, in the second we plunged, and once I went right in +and a mass of snow broke off beneath me and went careering down the +slope. He showed me how to hold my staff backwards as he did his +alpenstock, and use it as a kind of brake in case I slipped. + +We had been about twenty minutes crawling over that wall of snow and +ice; and it was more and more apparent that we were in for danger. +Before we had quite reached the far side, the wind was blowing a very +full gale and roared past our ears. The surface snow was whirring +furiously like dust before it: past our faces and against them drove +the snow-flakes, cutting the air: not falling, but making straight +darts and streaks. They seemed like the form of the whistling wind; +they blinded us. The rocks on the far side of the slope, rocks which +had been our goal when we set out to cross it, had long ago +disappeared in the increasing rush of the blizzard. Suddenly as we +were still painfully moving on, stooping against the mad wind, these +rocks loomed up over as large as houses, and we saw them through the +swarming snow-flakes as great hulls are seen through a fog at sea. The +guide crouched under the lee of the nearest; I came up close to him +and he put his hands to my ear and shouted to me that nothing further +could be done--he had so to shout because in among the rocks the +hurricane made a roaring sound, swamping the voice. + +I asked how far we were from the summit. He said he did not know where +we were exactly, but that we could not be more than 800 feet from it. +I was but that from Italy and I would not admit defeat. I offered him +all I had in money to go on, but it was folly in me, because if I had +had enough to tempt him and if he had yielded we should both have +died. Luckily it was but a little sum. He shook his head. He would not +go on, he broke out, for all the money there was in the world. He +shouted me to eat and drink, and so we both did. + +Then I understood his wisdom, for in a little while the cold began to +seize me in my thin clothes. My hands were numb, my face already gave +me intolerable pain, and my legs suffered and felt heavy. I learnt +another thing (which had I been used to mountains I should have +known), that it was not a simple thing to return. The guide was +hesitating whether to stay in this rough shelter, or to face the +chances of the descent. This terror had not crossed my mind, and I +thought as little of it as I could, needing my courage, and being near +to breaking down from the intensity of the cold. + +It seems that in a _tourmente_ (for by that excellent name do the +mountain people call such a storm) it is always a matter of doubt +whether to halt or go back. If you go back through it and lose your +way, you are done for. If you halt in some shelter, it may go on for +two or three days, and then there is an end of you. + +After a little he decided for a return, but he told me honestly what +the chances were, and my suffering from cold mercifully mitigated my +fear. But even in that moment, I felt in a confused but very conscious +way that I was defeated. I had crossed so many great hills and rivers, +and pressed so well on my undeviating arrow-line to Rome, and I had +charged this one great barrier manfully where the straight path of my +pilgrimage crossed the Alps--and I had failed! Even in that fearful +cold I felt it, and it ran through my doubt of return like another and +deeper current of pain. Italy was there, just above, right to my hand. +A lifting of a cloud, a little respite, and every downward step would +have been towards the sunlight. As it was, I was being driven back +northward, in retreat and ashamed. The Alps had conquered me. + +Let us always after this combat their immensity and their will, and +always hate the inhuman guards that hold the gates of Italy, and the +powers that lie in wait for men on those high places. But now I know +that Italy will always stand apart. She is cut off by no ordinary +wall, and Death has all his army on her frontiers. + +Well, we returned. Twice the guide rubbed my hands with brandy, and +once I had to halt and recover for a moment, failing and losing my +hold. Believe it or not, the deep footsteps of our ascent were already +quite lost and covered by the new snow since our halt, and even had +they been visible, the guide would not have retraced them. He did what +I did not at first understand, but what I soon saw to be wise. He took +a steep slant downward over the face of the snow-slope, and though +such a pitch of descent a little unnerved me, it was well in the end. +For when we had gone down perhaps 900 feet, or a thousand, in +perpendicular distance, even I, half numb and fainting, could feel +that the storm was less violent. Another two hundred, and the flakes +could be seen not driving in flashes past, but separately falling. +Then in some few minutes we could see the slope for a very long way +downwards quite clearly; then, soon after, we saw far below us the +place where the mountain-side merged easily into the plain of that cup +or basin whence we had started. + +When we saw this, the guide said to me, 'Hold your stick thus, if you +are strong enough, and let yourself slide.' I could just hold it, in +spite of the cold. Life was returning to me with intolerable pain. We +shot down the slope almost as quickly as falling, but it was evidently +safe to do so, as the end was clearly visible, and had no break or +rock in it. + +So we reached the plain below, and entered the little shed, and thence +looking up, we saw the storm above us; but no one could have told it +for what it was. Here, below, was silence, and the terror and raging +above seemed only a great trembling cloud occupying the mountain. Then +we set our faces down the ravine by which we had come up, and so came +down to where the snow changed to rain. When we got right down into +the valley of the Rhone, we found it all roofed with cloud, and the +higher trees were white with snow, making a line like a tide mark on +the slopes of the hills. + +I re-entered 'The Bear', silent and angered, and not accepting the +humiliation of that failure. Then, having eaten, I determined in equal +silence to take the road like any other fool; to cross the Furka by a +fine highroad, like any tourist, and to cross the St Gothard by +another fine highroad, as millions had done before me, and not to look +heaven in the face again till I was back after my long detour, on the +straight road again for Rome. + +But to think of it! I who had all that planned out, and had so nearly +done it! I who had cut a path across Europe like a shaft, and seen so +many strange places!--now to have to recite all the litany of the +vulgar; Bellinzona, Lugano, and this and that, which any railway +travelling fellow can tell you. Not till Como should I feel a man +again ... + +Indeed it is a bitter thing to have to give up one's sword. + +I had not the money to wait; my defeat had lowered me in purse as well +as in heart. I started off to enter by the ordinary gates--not Italy +even, but a half-Italy, the canton of the Ticino. It was very hard. + +This book is not a tragedy, and I will not write at any length of such +pain. That same day, in the latter half of it, I went sullenly over +the Furka; exactly as easy a thing as going up St James' Street and +down Piccadilly. I found the same storm on its summit, but on a +highroad it was a different affair. I took no short cuts. I drank at +all the inns--at the base, half-way up, near the top, and at the top. +I told them, as the snow beat past, how I had attacked and all but +conquered the Gries that wild morning, and they took me for a liar; so +I became silent even within my own mind. I looked sullenly at the +white ground all the way. And when on the far side I had got low +enough to be rid of the snow and wind and to be in the dripping rain +again, I welcomed the rain, and let it soothe like a sodden friend my +sodden uncongenial mind. + +I will not write of Hospenthal. It has an old tower, and the road to +it is straight and hideous. Much I cared for the old tower! The people +of the inn (which I chose at random) cannot have loved me much. + +I will not write of the St Gothard. Get it out of a guide-book. I rose +when I felt inclined; I was delighted to find it still raining. A +dense mist above the rain gave me still greater pleasure. I had +started quite at my leisure late in the day, and I did the thing +stolidly, and my heart was like a dully-heated mass of coal or iron +because I was acknowledging defeat. You who have never taken a +straight line and held it, nor seen strange men and remote places, you +do not know what it is to have to go round by the common way. + +Only in the afternoon, and on those little zig-zags which are sharper +than any other in the Alps (perhaps the road is older), something +changed. + +A warm air stirred the dense mist which had mercifully cut me off from +anything but the mere road and from the contemplation of hackneyed +sights. + +A hint or memory of gracious things ran in the slight breeze, the +wreaths of fog would lift a little for a few yards, and in their +clearings I thought to approach a softer and more desirable world. I +was soothed as though with caresses and when I began to see somewhat +farther and felt a vigour and fulness in the outline of the Trees, I +said to myself suddenly-- + +'I know what it is! It is the South, and a great part of my blood. +They may call it Switzerland still, but I know now that I am in Italy, +and this is the gate of Italy lying in groves.' + +Then and on till evening I reconciled myself with misfortune, and when +I heard again at Airolo the speech of civilized men, and saw the +strong Latin eyes and straight forms of the Race after all those days +of fog and frost and German speech and the north, my eyes filled with +tears and I was as glad as a man come home again, and I could have +kissed the ground. + +The wine of Airolo and its songs, how greatly they refreshed me! To +see men with answering eyes and to find a salute returned; the noise +of careless mouths talking all together; the group at cards, and the +laughter that is proper to mankind; the straight carriage of the +women, and in all the people something erect and noble as though +indeed they possessed the earth. I made a meal there, talking to all +my companions left and right in a new speech of my own, which was made +up, as it were, of the essence of all the Latin tongues, saying-- + +_'Ha! Si jo a traversa li montagna no erat facile! Nenni! II san +Gottardo? Nil est! pooh! poco! Ma hesterna jo ha voulu traversar in +Val Bavona, e credi non ritornar, namfredo, fredo erat in alto! La +tourmente ma prise...'_ + +And so forth, explaining all fully with gestures, exaggerating, +emphasizing, and acting the whole matter, so that they understood me +without much error. But I found it more difficult to understand them, +because they had a regular formed language with terminations and +special words. + +It went to my heart to offer them no wine, but a thought was in me of +which you shall soon hear more. My money was running low, and the +chief anxiety of a civilized man was spreading over my mind like the +shadow of a cloud over a field of corn in summer. They gave me a +number of 'good-nights', and at parting I could not forbear from +boasting that I was a pilgrim on my way to Rome. This they repeated +one to another, and one man told me that the next good halting-place +was a town called Faido, three hours down the road. He held up three +fingers to explain, and that was the last intercourse I had with the +Airolans, for at once I took the road. + +I glanced up the dark ravine which I should have descended had I +crossed the Nufenen. I thought of the Val Bavona, only just over the +great wall that held the west; and in one place where a rift (you have +just seen its picture) led up to the summits of the hills I was half +tempted to go back to Airolo and sleep and next morning to attempt a +crossing. But I had accepted my fate on the Gries and the falling road +also held me, and so I continued my way. + +Everything was pleasing in this new valley under the sunlight that +still came strongly from behind the enormous mountains; everything +also was new, and I was evidently now in a country of a special kind. +The slopes were populous, I had come to the great mother of fruits and +men, and I was soon to see her cities and her old walls, and the +rivers that glide by them. Church towers also repeated the same shapes +up and up the wooded hills until the villages stopped at the line of +the higher slopes and at the patches of snow. The houses were square +and coloured; they were graced with arbours, and there seemed to be +all around nothing but what was reasonable and secure, and especially +no rich or poor. + +I noticed all these things on the one side and the other till, not two +hours from Airolo, I came to a step in the valley. For the valley of +the Ticino is made up of distinct levels, each of which might have +held a lake once for the way it is enclosed: and each level ends in +high rocks with a gorge between them. Down this gorge the river +tumbles in falls and rapids and the road picks its way down steeply, +all banked and cut, and sometimes has to cross from side to side by a +bridge, while the railway above one overcomes the sharp descent by +running round into the heart of the hills through circular tunnels and +coming out again far below the cavern where it plunged in. Then when +all three--the river, the road, and the railway--- have got over the +great step, a new level of the valley opens. This is the way the road +comes into the south, and as I passed down to the lower valley, though +it was darkening into evening, something melted out of the mountain +air, there was content and warmth in the growing things, and I found +it was a place for vineyards. So, before it was yet dark, I came into +Faido, and there I slept, having at last, after so many adventures, +crossed the threshold and occupied Italy. + +Next day before sunrise I went out, and all the valley was adorned and +tremulous with the films of morning. + +Now all of you who have hitherto followed the story of this great +journey, put out of your minds the Alps and the passes and the +snows--postpone even for a moment the influence of the happy dawn and +of that South into which I had entered, and consider only this truth, +that I found myself just out of Faido on this blessed date of God with +eight francs and forty centimes for my viaticum and temporal provision +wherewith to accomplish the good work of my pilgrimage. + +Now when you consider that coffee and bread was twopence and a penny +for the maid, you may say without lying that I had left behind me the +escarpment of the Alps and stood upon the downward slopes of the first +Italian stream and at the summit of the entry road with _eight francs +ten centimes_ in my pocket--my body hearty and my spirit light, for +the arriving sun shot glory into the sky. The air was keen, and a +fresh day came radiant over the high eastern walls of the valley. + +And what of that? Why, one might make many things of it. For instance, +eight francs and ten centimes is a very good day's wages; it is a lot +to spend in cab fares but little for a _coupé._ It is a heavy price +for Burgundy but a song for Tokay. It is eighty miles third-class and +more; it is thirty or less first-class; it is a flash in a train _de +luxe,_ and a mere fleabite as a bribe to a journalist. It would be +enormous to give it to an apostle begging at a church door, but +nothing to spend on luncheon. + +Properly spent I can imagine it saving five or six souls, but I cannot +believe that so paltry a sum would damn half an one. + +Then, again, it would be a nice thing to sing about. Thus, if one were +a modern fool one might write a dirge with 'Huit francs et dix +centimes' all chanted on one low sad note, and coming in between +brackets for a 'motif, and with a lot about autumn and Death--which +last, Death that is, people nowadays seem to regard as something odd, +whereas it is well known to be the commonest thing in the world. Or +one might make the words the Backbone of a triolet, only one would +have to split them up to fit it into the metre; or one might make it +the decisive line in a sonnet; or one might make a pretty little lyric +of it, to the tune of 'Madame la Marquise'-- + +_'Huit francs et dix centimes, Tra la la, la la la.'_ + +Or one might put it rhetorically, fiercely, stoically, finely, +republicanly into the Heroics of the Great School. Thus-- + +HERNANI _(with indignation}... dans ces efforts sublimes_ _'Qu'avez +vous à offrir?' + +RUY BLAS _(simply) Huit francs et dix centimes!_ + +Or finally (for this kind of thing cannot go on for ever), one might +curl one's hair and dye it black, and cock a dirty slouch hat over one +ear and take a guitar and sit on a flat stone by the roadside and +cross one's legs, and, after a few pings and pongs on the strings, +strike up a Ballad with the refrain-- + +_Car j'ai toujours huit francs et dix centimes!_ a jocular, +sub-sardonic, a triumphant refrain! + +But all this is by the way; the point is, why was the eight francs and +ten centimes of such importance just there and then? + +For this reason, that I could get no more money before Milan; and I +think a little reflection will show you what a meaning lies in that +phrase. Milan was nearer ninety miles than eighty miles off. By the +strict road it was over ninety. And so I was forced to consider and to +be anxious, for how would this money hold out? + +There was nothing for it but forced marches, and little prospect of +luxuries. But could it be done? + +I thought it could, and I reasoned this way. + +'It is true I need a good deal of food, and that if a man is to cover +great distances he must keep fit. It is also true that many men have +done more on less. On the other hand, they were men who were not +pressed for time--I am; and I do not know the habits of the country. +Ninety miles is three good days; two very heavy days. Indeed, whether +it can be done at all in two is doubtful. But it can be done in two +days, two nights, and half the third day. So if I plan it thus I shall +achieve it; namely, to march say forty-five miles or more to-day, and +to sleep rough at the end of it. My food may cost me altogether three +francs. I march the next day twenty-five to thirty, my food costing me +another three francs. Then with the remaining two francs and ten +centimes I will take a bed at the end of the day, and coffee and bread +next morning, and will march the remaining twenty miles or less (as +they may be) into Milan with a copper or two in my pocket. Then in +Milan, having obtained my money, I will eat.' + +So I planned with very careful and exact precision, but many accidents +and unexpected things, diverting my plans, lay in wait for me among +the hills. + +And to cut a long story short, as the old sailor said to the young +fool-- + +LECTOR. What did the old sailor say to the young fool? + +AUCTOR. Why, the old sailor was teaching the young fool his compass, +and he said--- + +'Here we go from north, making round by west, and then by south round +by east again to north. There are thirty-two points of the compass, +namely, first these four, N., W., S., and E., and these are halved, +making four more, viz., NW., S W., SE., and NE. I trust I make myself +clear,' said the old sailor. + +'That makes eight divisions, as we call them. So look smart and +follow. Each of these eight is divided into two symbolically and +symmetrically divided parts, as is most evident in the nomenclature of +the same,' said the old sailor. 'Thus between N. and NE. is NNE., +between NE. and E. is ENE., between E. and SE. is...' + +'I see,' said the young fool. + +The old sailor, frowning at him, continued-- + +'Smart you there. Heels together, and note you well. Each of these +sixteen divisions is separated quite reasonably and precisely into +two. Thus between N. and NNE. we get N. by E.,' said the old sailor; +'and between NNE. and NE. we get NE. by E., and between NE. and ENE. +we get NE. by E.,' said the old sailor; 'and between ENE. and E. we +get E. by N., and then between E. and ESE. we get...' + +But here he noticed something dangerous in the young fool's eyes, and +having read all his life Admiral Griles' 'Notes on Discipline', and +knowing that discipline is a subtle bond depending 'not on force but +on an attitude of the mind,' he continued-- + +'And so TO CUT A LONG STORY SHORT we come round to the north again.' +Then he added, 'It is customary also to divide each of these points +into quarters. Thus NNE. 3/4 E. signifies...' + +But at this point the young fool, whose hands were clasped behind him +and concealed a marlin-spike, up and killed the old sailor, and so +rounded off this fascinating tale. + +Well then, to cut a long story short, I had to make forced marches. +With eight francs and ten centimes, and nearer ninety than eighty-five +miles before the next relief, it was necessary to plan and then to +urge on heroically. Said I to myself, 'The thing can be done quite +easily. What is ninety miles? Two long days! Who cannot live on four +francs a day? Why, lots of men do it on two francs a day.' + +But my guardian angel said to me, 'You are an ass! Ninety miles is a +great deal more than twice forty-five. Besides which' (said he) 'a +great effort needs largeness and ease. Men who live on two francs a +day or less are not men who attempt to march forty-five miles a day. +Indeed, my friend, you are pushing it very close.' + +'Well,' thought I, 'at least in such a glorious air, with such Hills +all about one, and such a race, one can come to no great harm.' + +But I knew within me that Latins are hard where money is concerned, +and I feared for my strength. I was determined to push forward and to +live on little. I filled my lungs and put on the spirit of an attempt +and swung down the valley. + +Alas! I may not linger on that charge, for if I did I should not give +you any measure of its determination and rapidity. Many little places +passed me off the road on the flanks of that valley, and mostly to the +left. While the morning was yet young, I came to the packed little +town of Bodio, and passed the eight franc limit by taking coffee, +brandy, and bread. There also were a gentleman and a lady in a +carriage who wondered where I was going, and I told them (in French) +'to Rome'. It was nine in the morning when I came to Biasca. The sun +was glorious, and not yet warm: it was too early for a meal. They gave +me a little cold meat and bread and wine, and seven francs stood out +dry above the falling tide of my money. + +Here at Biasca the valley took on a different aspect. It became wider +and more of a countryside; the vast hills, receding, took on an +appearance of less familiar majesty, and because the trend of the +Ticino turned southerly some miles ahead the whole place seemed +enclosed from the world. One would have said that a high mountain +before me closed it in and rendered it unique and unknown, had not a +wide cleft in the east argued another pass over the hills, and +reminded me that there were various routes over the crest of the Alps. + +Indeed, this hackneyed approach to Italy which I had dreaded and +despised and accepted only after a defeat was very marvellous, and +this valley of the Ticino ought to stand apart and be a commonwealth +of its own like Andorra or the Gresivaudan: the noble garden of the +Isere within the first gates of the Dauphine. + +I was fatigued, and my senses lost acuteness. Still I noticed with +delight the new character of the miles I pursued. A low hill just +before me, jutting out apparently from the high western mountains, +forbade me to see beyond it. The plain was alluvial, while copses and +wood and many cultivated fields now found room where, higher up, had +been nothing but the bed of a torrent with bare banks and strips of +grass immediately above them; it was a place worthy of a special name +and of being one lordship and a countryside. Still I went on towards +that near boundary of the mountain spur and towards the point where +the river rounded it, the great barrier hill before me still seeming +to shut in the valley. + +It was noon, or thereabouts, the heat was increasing (I did not feel +it greatly, for I had eaten and drunk next to nothing), when, coming +round the point, there opened out before me the great fan of the lower +valley and the widening and fruitful plain through which the Ticino +rolls in a full river to reach Lake Major, which is its sea. + +Weary as I was, the vision of this sudden expansion roused me and made +me forget everything except the sight before me. The valley turned +well southward as it broadened. The Alps spread out on either side +like great arms welcoming the southern day; the wholesome and familiar +haze that should accompany summer dimmed the more distant mountains of +the lakes and turned them amethystine, and something of repose and of +distance was added to the landscape; something I had not seen for many +days. There was room in that air and space for dreams and for many +living men, for towns perhaps on the slopes, for the boats of happy +men upon the waters, and everywhere for crowded and contented living. +History might be in all this, and I remembered it was the entry and +introduction of many armies. Singing therefore a song of Charlemagne, +I swung on in a good effort to where, right under the sun, what seemed +a wall and two towers on a sharp little hillock set in the bosom of +the valley showed me Bellinzona. Within the central street of that +city, and on its shaded side, I sank down upon a bench before the +curtained door of a drinking booth and boasted that I had covered in +that morning my twenty-five miles. + +The woman of the place came out to greet me, and asked me a question. +I did not catch it (for it was in a foreign language), but guessing +her to mean that I should take something, I asked for vermouth, and +seeing before me a strange door built of red stone, I drew it as I +sipped my glass and the woman talked to me all the while in a language +I could not understand. And as I drew I became so interested that I +forgot my poverty and offered her husband a glass, and then gave +another to a lounging man that had watched me at work, and so from +less than seven francs my money fell to six exactly, and my pencil +fell from my hand, and I became afraid. + +'I have done a foolish thing,' said I to myself, 'and have endangered +the success of my endeavour. Nevertheless, that cannot now be +remedied, and I must eat; and as eating is best where one has friends +I will ask a meal of this woman.' + +Now had they understood French I could have bargained and chosen; as +it was I had to take what they were taking, and so I sat with them as +they all came out and ate together at the little table. They had soup +and flesh, wine and bread, and as we ate we talked, not understanding +each other, and laughing heartily at our mutual ignorance. And they +charged me a franc, which brought my six francs down to five. But I, +knowing my subtle duty to the world, put down twopence more, as I +would have done anywhere else, for a _pour boire;_ and so with four +francs and eighty centimes left, and with much less than a third of my +task accomplished I rose, now drowsy with the food and wine, and +saluting them, took the road once more. + +But as I left Bellinzona there was a task before me which was to bring +my poverty to the test; for you must know that my map was a bad one, +and on a very small scale, and the road from Bellinzona to Lugano has +a crook in it, and it was essential to find a short cut. So I thought +to myself, 'I will try to see a good map as cheaply as possible,' and +I slunk off to the right into a kind of main square, and there I found +a proud stationer's shop, such as would deal with rich men only, or +tourists of the coarser and less humble kind. I entered with some +assurance, and said in French-- + +'Sir, I wish to know the hills between here and Lugano, but I am too +poor to buy a map. If you will let me look at one for a few moments, I +will pay you what you think fit.' + +The wicked stationer became like a devil for pride, and glaring at me, +said-- + +'Look! Look for yourself. I do not take pence. I sell maps; I do not +hire them!' + +Then I thought, 'Shall I take a favour from such a man?' But I +yielded, and did. I went up to the wall and studied a large map for +some moments. Then as I left, I said to him-- + +'Sir, I shall always hold in remembrance the day on which you did me +this signal kindness; nor shall I forget your courtesy and goodwill.' + +And what do you think he did at that? + +Why, he burst into twenty smiles, and bowed and seemed beatified, and +said: 'Whatever I can do for my customers and for visitors to this +town, I shall always be delighted to do. Pray, sir, will you not look +at other maps for a moment?' + +Now, why did he say this and grin happily like a gargoyle appeased? +Did something in my accent suggest wealth? or was he naturally kindly? +I do not know; but of this I am sure, one should never hate human +beings merely on a first, nor on a tenth, impression. Who knows? This +map-seller of Bellinzona may have been a good man; anyhow, I left him +as rich as I had found him, and remembering that the true key to a +forced march is to break the twenty-four hours into three pieces, and +now feeling the extreme heat, I went out along the burning straight +road until I found a border of grass and a hedge, and there, in spite +of the dust and the continually passing carts, I lay at full length in +the shade and fell into the sleep of men against whom there is no +reckoning. Just as I forgot the world I heard a clock strike two. + +I slept for hours beneath that hedge, and when I woke the air was no +longer a trembling furnace, but everything about me was wrapped round +as in a cloak of southern afternoon, and was still. The sun had fallen +midway, and shone in steady glory through a haze that overhung Lake +Major, and the wide luxuriant estuary of the vale. There lay before me +a long straight road for miles at the base of high hills; then, far +off, this road seemed to end at the foot of a mountain called, I +believe, Ash Mount or Cinder Hill. But my imperfect map told me that +here it went sharp round to the left, choosing a pass, and then at an +angle went down its way to Lugano. + +Now Lugano was not fifteen miles as the crow flies from where I stood, +and I determined to cut off that angle by climbing the high hills just +above me. They were wooded only on their slopes; their crest and much +of their sides were a down-land of parched grass, with rocks appearing +here and there. At the first divergent lane I made off eastward from +the road and began to climb. + +In under the chestnut trees the lane became a number of vague beaten +paths; I followed straight upwards. Here and there were little houses +standing hidden in leaves, and soon I crossed the railway, and at last +above the trees I saw the sight of all the Bellinzona valley to the +north; and turning my eyes I saw it broaden out between its walls to +where the lake lay very bright, in spite of the slight mist, and this +mist gave the lake distances, and the mountains round about it were +transfigured and seemed part of the mere light. + +The Italian lakes have that in them and their air which removes them +from common living. Their beauty is not the beauty which each of us +sees for himself in the world; it is rather the beauty of a special +creation; the expression of some mind. To eyes innocent, and first +freshly noting our great temporal inheritance--1 mean to the eyes of a +boy and girl just entered upon the estate of this glorious earth, and +thinking themselves immortal, this shrine of Europe might remain for +ever in the memory; an enchanted experience, in which the single sense +of sight had almost touched the boundary of music. They would remember +these lakes as the central emotion of their youth. To mean men also +who, in spite of years and of a full foreknowledge of death, yet +attempt nothing but the satisfaction of sense, and pride themselves +upon the taste and fineness with which they achieve this satisfaction, +the Italian lakes would seem a place for habitation, and there such a +man might build his house contentedly. But to ordinary Christians I am +sure there is something unnatural in this beauty of theirs, and they +find in it either a paradise only to be won by a much longer road to a +bait and veil of sorcery, behind which lies great peril. Now, for all +we know, beauty beyond the world may not really bear this double +aspect; but to us on earth--if we are ordinary men--beauty of this +kind has something evil. Have you not read in books how men when they +see even divine visions are terrified? So as I looked at Lake Major in +its halo I also was afraid, and I was glad to cross the ridge and +crest of the hill and to shut out that picture framed all round with +glory. + +But on the other side of the hill I found, to my great disgust, not as +I had hoped, a fine slope down leading to Lugano, but a second +interior valley and another range just opposite me. I had not the +patience to climb this so I followed down the marshy land at the foot +of it, passed round the end of the hill and came upon the railway, +which had tunnelled under the range I had crossed. I followed the +railway for a little while and at last crossed it, penetrated through +a thick brushwood, forded a nasty little stream, and found myself +again on the main road, wishing heartily I had never left it. + +It was still at least seven miles to Lugano, and though all the way +was downhill, yet fatigue threatened me. These short cuts over marshy +land and through difficult thickets are not short cuts at all, and I +was just wondering whether, although it was already evening, I dared +not rest a while, when there appeared at a turn in the road a little +pink house with a yard all shaded over by a vast tree; there was also +a trellis making a roof over a plain bench and table, and on the +trellis grew vines. + +'Into such houses,' I thought, 'the gods walk when they come down and +talk with men, and such houses are the scenes of adventures. I will go +in and rest.' + +So I walked straight into the courtyard and found there a shrivelled +brown-faced man with kindly eyes, who was singing a song to himself. +He could talk a little French, a little English, and his own Italian +language. He had been to America and to Paris; he was full of +memories; and when I had listened to these and asked for food and +drink, and said I was extremely poor and would have to bargain, he +made a kind of litany of 'I will not cheat you; I am an honest man; I +also am poor,' and so forth. Nevertheless I argued about every +item--the bread, the sausage, and the beer. Seeing that I was in +necessity, he charged me about three times their value, but I beat him +down to double, and lower than that he would not go. Then we sat down +together at the table and ate and drank and talked of far countries; +and he would interject remarks on his honesty compared with the +wickedness of his neighbours, and I parried with illustrations of my +poverty and need, pulling out the four francs odd that remained to me, +and jingling them sorrowfully in my hand. 'With these,' I said, 'I +must reach Milan.' + +Then I left him, and as I went down the road a slight breeze came on, +and brought with it the coolness of evening. + +At last the falling plateau reached an edge, many little lights +glittered below me, and I sat on a stone and looked down at the town +of Lugano. It was nearly dark. The mountains all around had lost their +mouldings, and were marked in flat silhouettes against the sky. The +new lake which had just appeared below me was bright as water is at +dusk, and far away in the north and east the high Alps still stood up +and received the large glow of evening. Everything else was full of +the coming night, and a few stars shone. Up from She town came the +distant noise of music; otherwise there was no sound. I could have +rested there a long time, letting my tired body lapse into the +advancing darkness, and catching in my spirit the inspiration of the +silence--had it not been for hunger. I knew by experience that when it +is very late one cannot be served in the eating-houses of poor men, +and I had not the money or any other. So I rose and shambled down the +steep road into the town, and there I found a square with arcades, and +in the south-eastern corner of this square just such a little tavern +as I required. Entering, therefore, and taking off my hat very low, I +said in French to a man who was sitting there with friends, and who +was the master, 'Sir, what is the least price at which you can give me +a meal?' + +He said, 'What do you want?' + +I answered, 'Soup, meat, vegetables, bread, and a little wine.' + +He counted on his fingers, while all his friends stared respectfully +at him and me. He then gave orders, and a very young and beautiful +girl set before me as excellent a meal as I had eaten for days on +days, and he charged me but a franc and a half. He gave me also coffee +and a little cheese, and I, feeling hearty, gave threepence over for +the service, and they all very genially wished me a good-night; but +their wishes were of no value to me, for the night was terrible. + +I had gone over forty miles; how much over I did not know. I should +have slept at Lugano, but my lightening purse forbade me. I thought, +'I will push on and on; after all, I have already slept, and so broken +the back of the day. I will push on till I am at the end of my tether, +then I will find a wood and sleep.' Within four miles my strength +abandoned me. I was not even so far down the lake as to have lost the +sound of the band at Lugano floating up the still water, when I was +under an imperative necessity for repose. It was perhaps ten o'clock, +and the sky was open and glorious with stars. I climbed up a bank on +my right, and searching for a place to lie found one under a tree near +a great telegraph pole. Here was a little parched grass, and one could +lie there and see the lake and wait for sleep. It was a benediction to +stretch out all supported by the dry earth, with my little side-bag +for pillow, and to look at the clear night above the hills, and to +listen to the very distant music, and to wonder whether or not, in +this strange southern country, there might not be snakes gliding about +in the undergrowth. Caught in such a skein of influence I was soothed +and fell asleep. + +For a little while I slept dreamlessly. + +Just so much of my living self remained as can know, without +understanding, the air around. It is the life of trees. That +under-part, the barely conscious base of nature which trees and +sleeping men are sunk in, is not only dominated by an immeasurable +calm, but is also beyond all expression contented. And in its very +stuff there is a complete and changeless joy. This is surely what the +great mind meant when it said to the Athenian judges that death must +not be dreaded since no experience in life was so pleasurable as a +deep sleep; for being wise and seeing the intercommunion of things, he +could not mean extinction, which is nonsense, but a lapse into that +under-part of which I speak. For there are gods also below the earth. + +But a dream came into my sleep and disturbed me, increasing life, and +therefore bringing pain. I dreamt that I was arguing, at first easily, +then violently, with another man. More and more he pressed me, and at +last in my dream there were clearly spoken words, and he said to me, +'You must be wrong, because you are so cold; if you were right you +would not be so cold.' And this argument seemed quite reasonable to me +in my foolish dream, and I muttered to him, 'You are right, I must be +in the wrong. It is very cold ...' Then I half opened my eyes and saw +the telegraph pole, the trees, and the lake. Far up the lake, where +the Italian Frontier cuts it, the torpedo-boats, looking for +smugglers, were casting their search-lights. One of the roving beams +fell full on me and I became broad awake. I stood up. It was indeed +cold, with a kind of clinging and grasping chill that was not to be +expressed in degrees of heat, but in dampness perhaps, or perhaps in +some subtler influence of the air. + +I sat on the bank and gazed at the lake in some despair. Certainly I +could not sleep again without a covering cloth, and it was now past +midnight, nor did I know of any house, whether if I took the road I +should find one in a mile, or in two, or in five. And, note you, I was +utterly exhausted. That enormous march from Faido, though it had been +wisely broken by the siesta at Bellinzona, needed more than a few cold +hours under trees, and I thought of the three poor francs in my +pocket, and of the thirty-eight miles remaining to Milan. + +The stars were beyond the middle of their slow turning, and I watched +them, splendid and in order, for sympathy, as I also regularly, but +slowly and painfully, dragged myself along my appointed road. But in a +very short time a great, tall, square, white house stood right on the +roadway, and to my intense joy I saw a light in one of its higher +windows. Standing therefore beneath, I cried at the top of my voice, +'Hola!' five or six times. A woman put her head out of the window into +the fresh night, and said, 'You cannot sleep here; we have no rooms,' +then she remained looking out of her window and ready to analyse the +difficulties of the moment; a good-natured woman and fat. + +In a moment another window at the same level, but farther from me, +opened, and a man leaned out, just as those alternate figures come in +and out of the toys that tell the weather. 'It is impossible,' said +the man; 'we have no rooms.' + +Then they talked a great deal together, while I shouted, _'Quid vis? +Non e possibile dormire in la foresta! e troppo fredo! Vis ne me +assassinare? Veni de Lugano--e piu--non e possibile ritornare!'_ and +so forth. + +They answered in strophe and antistrophe, sometimes together in full +chorus, and again in semichorus, and with variations, that it was +impossible. Then a light showed in the chinks of their great door; the +lock grated, and it opened. A third person, a tall youth, stood in the +hall. I went forward into the breach and occupied the hall. He blinked +at me above a candle, and murmured, as a man apologizing 'It is not +possible.' + +Whatever I have in common with these southerners made me understand +that I had won, so I smiled at him and nodded; he also smiled, and at +once beckoned to me. He led me upstairs, and showed me a charming bed +in a clean room, where there was a portrait of the Pope, looking +cunning; the charge for that delightful and human place was sixpence, +and as I said good-night to the youth, the man and woman from above +said good-night also. And this was my first introduction to the most +permanent feature in the Italian character. The good people! + +When I woke and rose I was the first to be up and out. It was high +morning. The sun was not yet quite over the eastern mountains, but I +had slept, though so shortly yet at great ease, and the world seemed +new and full of a merry mind. The sky was coloured like that high +metal work which you may see in the studios of Paris; there was gold +in it fading into bronze, and above, the bronze softened to silver. A +little morning breeze, courageous and steady, blew down the lake and +provoked the water to glad ripples, and there was nothing that did not +move and take pleasure in the day. + +The Lake of Lugano is of a complicated shape, and has many arms. It is +at this point very narrow indeed, and shallow too; a mole, pierced at +either end with low arches, has here been thrown across it, and by +this mole the railway and the road pass over to the eastern shore. I +turned in this long causeway and noticed the northern view. On the +farther shore was an old village and some pleasure-houses of rich men +on the shore; the boats also were beginning to go about the water. +These boats were strange, unlike other boats; they were covered with +hoods, and looked like floating waggons. This was to shield the rowers +from the sun. Far off a man was sailing with a little brown +sprit-sail. It was morning, and all the world was alive. + +Coffee in the village left me two francs and two pennies. I still +thought the thing could be done, so invigorating and deceiving are the +early hours, and coming farther down the road to an old and beautiful +courtyard on the left, I drew it, and hearing a bell at hand I saw a +tumble-down church with trees before it, and went in to Mass; and +though it was a little low village Mass, yet the priest had three +acolytes to serve it, and (true and gracious mark of a Catholic +country!) these boys were restless and distracted at their office. + +You may think it trivial, but it was certainly a portent. One of the +acolytes had half his head clean shaved! A most extraordinary sight! I +could not take my eyes from it, and I heartily wished I had an +Omen-book with me to tell me what it might mean. + +When there were oracles on earth, before Pan died, this sight would +have been of the utmost use. For I should have consulted the oracle +woman for a Lira--at Biasca for instance, or in the lonely woods of +the Cinder Mountain; and, after a lot of incense and hesitation, and +wrestling with the god, the oracle would have accepted Apollo and, +staring like one entranced, she would have chanted verses which, +though ambiguous, would at least have been a guide. Thus: + + _Matutinus adest ubi Vesper, et accipiens te + Saepe recusatum voces intelligit hospes + Rusticus ignotas notas, ac flumina tellus + Occupat--In sancto tum, tum, stans + Aede caveto Tonsuram Hirsuti + Capitis, via namque pedestrem + Ferrea praeveniens cursum, peregrine, laborem_ + Pro pietate tuâ inceptum frustratur, amore + Antiqui Ritus alto sub Numine Romae._ + +LECTOR. What Hoggish great Participles! + +AUCTOR. Well, well, you see it was but a rustic oracle at 9 3/4 d. the +revelation, and even that is supposing silver at par. Let us translate +it for the vulgar: + +When early morning seems but eve And they that still refuse receive: +When speech unknown men understand; And floods are crossed upon dry +land. Within the Sacred Walls beware The Shaven Head that boasts of +Hair, For when the road attains the rail The Pilgrim's great attempt +shall fail. + +Of course such an oracle might very easily have made me fear too much. +The 'shaven head' I should have taken for a priest, especially if it +was to be met with 'in a temple'--it might have prevented me entering +a church, which would have been deplorable. Then I might have taken it +to mean that I should never have reached Rome, which would have been a +monstrous weight upon my mind. Still, as things unfolded themselves, +the oracle would have become plainer and plainer, and I felt the lack +of it greatly. For, I repeat, I had certainly received an omen. + +The road now neared the end of the lake, and the town called Capo di +Lago, or 'Lake-head', lay off to my right. I saw also that in a very +little while I should abruptly find the plains. A low hill some five +miles ahead of me was the last roll of the mountains, and just above +me stood the last high crest, a precipitous peak of bare rock, up +which there ran a cog-railway to some hotel or other. I passed through +an old town under the now rising heat; I passed a cemetery in the +Italian manner, with marble figures like common living men. The road +turned to the left, and I was fairly on the shoulder of the last +glacis. I stood on the Alps at their southern bank, and before me was +Lombardy. + +Also in this ending of the Swiss canton one was more evidently in +Italy than ever. A village perched upon a rock, deep woods and a +ravine below it, its houses and its church, all betrayed the full +Italian spirit. + +The frontier town was Chiasso. I hesitated with reverence before +touching the sacred soil which I had taken so long to reach, and I +longed to be able to drink its health; but though I had gone, I +suppose, ten miles, and though the heat was increasing, I would not +stop; for I remembered the two francs, and my former certitude of +reaching Milan was shaking and crumbling. The great heat of midday +would soon be on me, I had yet nearly thirty miles to go, and my bad +night began to oppress me. + +I crossed the frontier, which is here an imaginary line. Two slovenly +customs-house men asked me if I had anything dutiable on me. I said +No, and it was evident enough, for in my little sack or pocket was +nothing but a piece of bread. If they had applied the American test, +and searched me for money, then indeed they could have turned me back, +and I should have been forced to go into the fields a quarter of a +mile or so and come into their country by a path instead of a +highroad. + +This necessity was spared me. I climbed slowly up the long slope that +hides Como, then I came down upon that lovely city and saw its frame +of hills and its lake below me. + +These things are not like things seen by the eyes. I say it again, +they are like what one feels when music is played. + +I entered Como between ten and eleven faint for food, and then a new +interest came to fill my mind with memories of this great adventure. +The lake was in flood, and all the town was water. + +Como dry must be interesting enough; Como flooded is a marvel. What +else is Venice? And here is a Venice at the foot of high mountains, +and _all_ in the water, no streets or squares; a fine even depth of +three feet and a half or so for navigators, much what you have in the +Spitway in London River at low spring tides. + +There were a few boats about, but the traffic and pleasure of Como was +passing along planks laid on trestles over the water here and there +like bridges; and for those who were in haste, and could afford it +(such as take cabs in London), there were wheelbarrows, coster carts, +and what not, pulled about by men for hire; and it was a sight to +remember all one's life to see the rich men of Como squatting on these +carts and barrows, and being pulled about over the water by the poor +men of Como, being, indeed, an epitome of all modern sociology and +economics and religion and organized charity and strenuousness and +liberalism and sophistry generally. + +For my part I was determined to explore this curious town in the +water, and I especially desired to see it on the lake side, because +there one would get the best impression of its being really an aquatic +town; so I went northward, as I was directed, and came quite +unexpectedly upon the astonishing cathedral. It seemed built of +polished marble, and it was in every way so exquisite in proportion, +so delicate in sculpture, and so triumphant in attitude, that I +thought to myself-- + +'No wonder men praise Italy if this first Italian town has such a +building as this.' + +But, as you will learn later, many of the things praised are ugly, and +are praised only by certain followers of charlatans. + +So I went on till I got to the lake, and there I found a little port +about as big as a dining-room (for the Italian lakes play at being +little seas. They have little ports, little lighthouses, little +fleets for war, and little custom-houses, and little storms and little +lines of steamers. Indeed, if one wanted to give a rich child a +perfect model or toy, one could not give him anything better than an +Italian lake), and when I had long gazed at the town, standing, as it +seemed, right in the lake, I felt giddy, and said to myself, 'This is +the lack of food,' for I had eaten nothing but my coffee and bread +eleven miles before, at dawn. + +So I pulled out my two francs, and going into a little shop, I bought +bread, sausage, and a very little wine for fourpence, and with one +franc eighty left I stood in the street eating and wondering what my +next step should be. + +It seemed on the map perhaps twenty-five, perhaps twenty-six miles to +Milan. It was now nearly noon, and as hot as could be. I might, if I +held out, cover the distance in eight or nine hours, but I did not see +myself walking in the middle heat on the plain of Lombardy, and even +if I had been able I should only have got into Milan at dark or later, +when the post office (with my money in it) would be shut; and where +could I sleep, for my one franc eighty would be gone? A man covering +these distances must have one good meal a day or he falls ill. I could +beg, but there was the risk of being arrested, and that means an +indefinite waste of time, perhaps several days; and time, that had +defeated me at the Gries, threatened me here again. I had nothing to +sell or to pawn, and I had no friends. The Consul I would not attempt; +I knew too much of such things as Consuls when poor and dirty men try +them. Besides which, there was no Consul I pondered. + +I went into the cool of the cathedral to sit in its fine darkness and +think better. I sat before a shrine where candles were burning, put up +for their private intentions by the faithful. Of many, two had nearly +burnt out. I watched them in their slow race for extinction when a +thought took me. + +'I will,' said I to myself, 'use these candles for an ordeal or +heavenly judgement. The left hand one shall be for attempting the road +at the risk of illness or very dangerous failure; the right hand one +shall stand for my going by rail till I come to that point on the +railway where one franc eighty will take me, and thence walking into +Milan:--and heaven defend the right.' + +They were a long time going out, and they fell evenly. At last the +right hand one shot up the long flame that precedes the death of +candles; the contest took on interest, and even excitement, when, just +as I thought the left hand certain of winning, it went out without +guess or warning, like a second-rate person leaving this world for +another. The right hand candle waved its flame still higher, as though +in triumph, outlived its colleague just the moment to enjoy glory, and +then in its turn went fluttering down the dark way from which they say +there is no return. + +None may protest against the voice of the Gods. I went straight to the +nearest railway station (for there are two), and putting down one +franc eighty, asked in French for a ticket to whatever station that +sum would reach down the line. The ticket came out marked Milan, and I +admitted the miracle and confessed the finger of Providence. There was +no change, and as I got into the train I had become that rarest and +ultimate kind of traveller, the man without any money whatsoever-- +without passport, without letters, without food or wine; it would be +interesting to see what would follow if the train broke down. + +I had marched 378 miles and some three furlongs, or thereabouts. + +Thus did I break--but by a direct command--the last and dearest of my +vows, and as the train rumbled off, I took luxury in the rolling +wheels. + +I thought of that other medieval and papistical pilgrim hobbling along +rather than 'take advantage of any wheeled thing', and I laughed at +him. Now if Moroso-Malodoroso or any other Non-Aryan, Antichristian, +over-inductive, statistical, brittle-minded man and scientist, sees +anything remarkable in one self laughing at another self, let me tell +him and all such for their wide-eyed edification and astonishment that +I knew a man once that had fifty-six selves (there would have been +fifty-seven, but for the poet in him that died young)--he could evolve +them at will, and they were very useful to lend to the parish priest +when he wished to make up a respectable Procession on Holy-days. And I +knew another man that could make himself so tall as to look over the +heads of the scientists as a pine-tree looks over grasses, and again +so small as to discern very clearly the thick coating or dust of +wicked pride that covers them up in a fine impenetrable coat. So much +for the moderns. + +The train rolled on. I noticed Lombardy out of the windows. It is +flat. I listened to the talk of the crowded peasants in the train. I +did not understand it. I twice leaned out to see if Milan were not +standing up before me out of the plain, but I saw nothing. Then I fell +asleep, and when I woke suddenly it was because we were in the +terminus of that noble great town, which I then set out to traverse in +search of my necessary money and sustenance. It was yet but early in +the afternoon. + +What a magnificent city is Milan! The great houses are all of stone, +and stand regular and in order, along wide straight streets. There are +swift cars, drawn by electricity, for such as can afford them. Men are +brisk and alert even in the summer heats, and there are shops of a +very good kind, though a trifle showy. There are many newspapers to +help the Milanese to be better men and to cultivate charity and +humility; there are banks full of paper money; there are soldiers, +good pavements, and all that man requires to fulfil him, soul and +body; cafés, arcades, mutoscopes, and every sign of the perfect state. +And the whole centres in a splendid open square, in the midst of which +is the cathedral, which is justly the most renowned in the world. + +My pilgrimage is to Rome, my business is with lonely places, hills, +and the recollection of the spirit. It would be waste to describe at +length this mighty capital. The mists and the woods, the snows and the +interminable way, had left me ill-suited for the place, and I was +ashamed. I sat outside a café, opposite the cathedral, watching its +pinnacles of light; but I was ashamed. Perhaps I did the master a hurt +by sitting there in his fine great café, unkempt, in such clothes, +like a tramp; but he was courteous in spite of his riches, and I +ordered a very expensive drink for him also, in order to make amends. +I showed him my sketches, and told him of my adventures in French, and +he was kind enough to sit opposite me, and to take that drink with me. +He talked French quite easily, as it seems do all such men in the +principal towns of north Italy. Still, the broad day shamed me, and +only when darkness came did I feel at ease. + +I wandered in the streets till I saw a small eating shop, and there I +took a good meal. But when one is living the life of the poor, one +sees how hard are the great cities. Everything was dearer, and worse, +than in the simple countrysides. The innkeeper and his wife were +kindly, but their eyes showed that they had often to suspect men. They +gave me a bed, but it was a franc and more, and I had to pay before +going upstairs to it. The walls were mildewed, the place ramshackle +and evil, the rickety bed not clean, the door broken and warped, and +that night I was oppressed with the vision of poverty. Dirt and +clamour and inhuman conditions surrounded me. Yet the people meant +well. + +With the first light I got up quietly, glad to find the street again +and the air. I stood in the crypt of the cathedral to hear the +Ambrosian Mass, and it was (as I had expected) like any other, save +for a kind of second _lavabo_ before the Elevation. To read the +distorted stupidity of the north one might have imagined that in the +Ambrosian ritual the priest put a _non_ before the _credo,_ and +_nec's_ at each clause of it, and renounced his baptismal vows at the +_kyrie;_ but the Milanese are Catholics like any others, and the +northern historians are either liars or ignorant men. And I know three +that are both together. + +Then I set out down the long street that leads south out of Milan, and +was soon in the dull and sordid suburb of the Piacenzan way. The sky +was grey, the air chilly, and in a little while--alas!--it rained. + +Lombardy is an alluvial plain. + +That is the pretty way of putting it. The truth is more vivid if you +say that Lombardy is as flat as a marsh, and that it is made up of +mud. Of course this mud dries when the sun shines on it, but mud it is +and mud it will remain; and that day, as the rain began falling, mud +it rapidly revealed itself to be; and the more did it seem to be mud +when one saw how the moistening soil showed cracks from the last day's +heat. + +Lombardy has no forests, but any amount of groups of trees; moreover +(what is very remarkable), it is all cultivated in fields more or less +square. These fields have ditches round them, full of mud and water +running slowly, and some of them are themselves under water in order +to cultivate rice. All these fields have a few trees bordering them, +apart from the standing clumps; but these trees are not very high. +There are no open views in Lombardy, and Lombardy is all the same. +Irregular large farmsteads stand at random all up and down the +country; no square mile of Lombardy is empty. There are many, many +little villages; many straggling small towns about seven to eight +miles apart, and a great number of large towns from thirty to fifty +miles apart. Indeed, this very road to Piacenza, which the rain now +covered with a veil of despair, was among the longest stretches +between any two large towns, although it was less than fifty miles. + +On the map, before coming to this desolate place, there seemed a +straighter and a better way to Rome than this great road. There is a +river called the Lambro, which comes east of Milan and cuts the +Piacenzan road at a place called Melegnano. It seemed to lead straight +down to a point on the Po, a little above Piacenza. This stream one +could follow (so it seemed), and when it joined the Po get a boat or +ferry, and see on the other side the famous Trebbia, where Hannibal +conquered and Joubert fell, and so make straight on for the Apennine. + +Since it is always said in books that Lombardy is a furnace in summer, +and that whole great armies have died of the heat there, this river +bank would make a fine refuge. Clear and delicious water, more limpid +than glass, would reflect and echo the restless poplars, and would +make tolerable or even pleasing the excessive summer. Not so. It was a +northern mind judging by northern things that came to this conclusion. +There is not in all Lombardy a clear stream, but every river and brook +is rolling mud. In the rain, not heat, but a damp and penetrating +chill was the danger. There is no walking on the banks of the rivers; +they are cliffs of crumbling soil, jumbled anyhow. + +Man may, as Pinkerton (Sir Jonas Pinkerton) writes, be master of his +fate, but he has a precious poor servant. It is easier to command a +lapdog or a mule for a whole day than one's own fate for half-an-hour. + +Nevertheless, though it was apparent that I should have to follow the +main road for a while, I determined to make at last to the right of +it, and to pass through a place called 'Old Lodi', for I reasoned +thus: 'Lodi is the famous town. How much more interesting must Old +Lodi be which is the mothertown of Lodi?' Also, Old Lodi brought me +back again on the straight line to Rome, and I foolishly thought it +might be possible to hear there of some straight path down the Lambro +(for that river still possessed me somewhat). + +Therefore, after hours and hours of trudging miserably along the wide +highway in the wretched and searching rain, after splashing through +tortuous Melegnano, and not even stopping to wonder if it was the +place of the battle, after noting in despair the impossible Lambro, I +came, caring for nothing, to the place where a secondary road branches +off to the right over a level crossing and makes for Lodi Vecchio. + +It was not nearly midday, but I had walked perhaps fifteen miles, and +had only rested once in a miserable Trattoria. In less than three +miles I came to that unkempt and lengthy village, founded upon dirt +and living in misery, and through the quiet, cold, persistent rain I +splashed up the main street. I passed wretched, shivering dogs and +mournful fowls that took a poor refuge against walls; passed a sad +horse that hung its head in the wet and stood waiting for a master, +till at last I reached the open square where the church stood, then I +knew that I had seen all Old Lodi had to offer me. So, going into an +eating-house, or inn, opposite the church, I found a girl and her +mother serving, and I saluted them, but there was no fire, and my +heart sank to the level of that room, which was, I am sure, no more +than fifty-four degrees. + +Why should the less gracious part of a pilgrimage be specially +remembered? In life were remember joy best--that is what makes us sad +by contrast; pain somewhat, especially if it is acute; but dulness +never. And a book--which has it in its own power to choose and to +emphasize--has no business to record dulness. What did I at Lodi +Vecchio? I ate; I dried my clothes before a tepid stove in a kitchen. +I tried to make myself understood by the girl and her mother. I sat at +a window and drew the ugly church on principle. Oh, the vile sketch! + +Worthy of that Lombard plain, which they had told me was so full of +wonderful things. I gave up all hope of by-roads, and I determined to +push back obliquely to the highway again--obliquely in order to save +time! Nepios! + +These 'by-roads' of the map turned out in real life to be all manner +of abominable tracks. Some few were metalled, some were cart-ruts +merely, some were open lanes of rank grass; and along most there went +a horrible ditch, and in many fields the standing water proclaimed +desolation. IN so far as I can be said to have had a way at all, I +lost it. I could not ask my way because my only ultimate goal was +Piacenza, and that was far off. I did not know the name of any place +between. Two or three groups of houses I passed, and sometimes church +towers glimmered through the rain. I passed a larger and wider road +than the rest, but obviously not my road; I pressed on and passed +another; and by this time, having ploughed up Lombardy for some four +hours, I was utterly lost. I no longer felt the north, and, for all I +knew, I might be going backwards. The only certain thing was that I +was somewhere in the belt between the highroad and the Lambro, and +that was little enough to know at the close of such a day. Grown +desperate, I clamoured within my mind for a miracle; and it was not +long before I saw a little bent man sitting on a crazy cart and going +ahead of me at a pace much slower than a walk--the pace of a horse +crawling. I caught him up, and, doubting much whether he would +understand a word, I said to him repeatedly-- + +_'La granda via? La via a Piacenza?'_ + +He shook his head as though to indicate that this filthy lane was not +the road. Just as I had despaired of learning anything, he pointed +with his arm away to the right, perpendicularly to the road we were +on, and nodded. He moved his hand up and down. I had been going north! + +On getting this sign I did not wait for a cross road, but jumped the +little ditch and pushed through long grass, across further ditches, +along the side of patches of growing corn, heedless of the huge weight +on my boots and of the oozing ground, till I saw against the rainy sky +a line of telegraph poles. For the first time since they were made the +sight of them gave a man joy. There was a long stagnant pond full of +reeds between me and the railroad; but, as I outflanked it, I came +upon a road that crossed the railway at a level and led me into the +great Piacenzan way. Almost immediately appeared a village. It was a +hole called Secugnano, and there I entered a house where a bush +hanging above the door promised entertainment, and an old hobbling +woman gave me food and drink and a bed. The night had fallen, and upon +the roof above me I could hear the steady rain. + +The next morning--Heaven preserve the world from evil!--it was still +raining. + +LECTOR. It does not seem to me that this part of your book is very +entertaining. + +AUCTOR. I know that; but what am I to do? + +LECTOR. Why, what was the next point in the pilgrimage that was even +tolerably noteworthy? + +AUCTOR. I suppose the Bridge of Boats. + +LECTOR. And how far on was that? + +AUCTOR. About fourteen miles, more or less ... I passed through a town +with a name as long as my arm, and I suppose the Bridge of Boats must +have been nine miles on after that. + +LECTOR. And it rained all the time, and there was mud? + +AUCTOR. Precisely. + +LECTOR. Well, then, let us skip it and tell stories. + +AUCTOR. With all my heart. And since you are such a good judge of +literary poignancy, do you begin. + +LECTOR. I will, and I draw my inspiration from your style. + +Once upon a time there was a man who was born in Croydon, and whose +name was Charles Amieson Blake. He went to Rugby at twelve and left it +at seventeen. He fell in love twice and then went to Cambridge till he +was twenty-three. Having left Cambridge he fell in love more mildly, +and was put by his father into a government office, where he began at +_180_ pounds a year. At thirty-five he was earning 500 pounds a year, +and perquisites made 750 pounds a year. He met a pleasant lady and +fell in love quite a little compared with the other times. She had 250 +pounds a year. That made _1000_ pounds a year. They married and had +three children--Richard, Amy, and Cornelia. He rose to a high +government position, was knighted, retired at sixty-three, and died at +sixty-seven. He is buried at Kensal Green... + +AUCTOR. Thank you, Lector, that is a very good story. It is simple and +full of plain human touches. You know how to deal with the facts of +everyday life ... It requires a master-hand. Tell me, Lector, had this +man any adventures? + +LECTOR. None that I know of. + +AUCTOR. Had he opinions? + +LECTOR. Yes. I forgot to tell you he was a Unionist. He spoke two +foreign languages badly. He often went abroad to Assisi, Florence, and +Boulogne... He left 7,623 pounds 6s. 8d., and a house and garden at +Sutton. His wife lives there still. + +AUCTOR. Oh! + +LECTOR. It is the human story ... the daily task! + +AUCTOR. Very true, my dear Lector ... the common lot... Now let me +tell my story. It is about the Hole that could not be Filled Up. + +LECTOR. Oh no! Auctor, no! That is the oldest story in the-- + +AUCTOR. Patience, dear Lector, patience! I will tell it well. Besides +which I promise you it shall never be told again. I will copyright it. + +Well, once there was a Learned Man who had a bargain with the Devil +that he should warn the Devil's emissaries of all the good deeds done +around him so that they could be upset, and he in turn was to have all +those pleasant things of this life which the Devil's allies usually +get, to wit a Comfortable Home, Self-Respect, good health, 'enough +money for one's rank', and generally what is called 'a happy useful +life'--_till_ midnight of All-Hallowe'en in the last year of the +nineteenth century. + +So this Learned Man did all he was required, and daily would inform +the messenger imps of the good being done or prepared in the +neighbourhood, and they would upset it; so that the place he lived in +from a nice country town became a great Centre of Industry, full of +wealth and desirable family mansions and street property, and was +called in hell 'Depot B' (Depot A you may guess at). But at last +toward the 15th of October 1900, the Learned Man began to shake in his +shoes and to dread the judgement; for, you see, he had not the +comfortable ignorance of his kind, and was compelled to believe in the +Devil willy-nilly, and, as I say, he shook in his shoes. + +So he bethought him of a plan to cheat the Devil, and the day before +All-Hallowe'en he cut a very small round hole in the floor of his +study, just near the fireplace, right through down to the cellar. Then +he got a number of things that do great harm (newspapers, legal +documents, unpaid bills, and so forth) and made ready for action. + +Next morning when the little imps came for orders as usual, after +prayers, he took them down into the cellar, and pointing out the hole +in the ceiling, he said to them: + +'My friends, this little hole is a mystery. It communicates, I +believe, with the chapel; but I cannot find the exit. All I know is, +that some pious person or angel, or what not, desirous to do good, +slips into it every day whatever he thinks may be a cause of evil in +the neighbourhood, hoping thus to destroy it' (in proof of which +statement he showed them a scattered heap of newspapers on the floor +of the cellar beneath the hole). 'And the best thing you can do,' he +added, 'is to stay here and take them away as far as they come down +and put them back into circulation again. Tut! tut!' he added, picking +up a moneylender's threatening letter to a widow, 'it is astonishing +how these people interfere with the most sacred rights! Here is a +letter actually stolen from the post! Pray see that it is delivered.' + +So he left the little imps at work, and fed them from above with all +manner of evil-doing things, which they as promptly drew into the +cellar, and at intervals flew away with, to put them into circulation +again. + +That evening, at about half-past eleven, the Devil came to fetch the +Learned Man, and found him seated at his fine great desk, writing. The +Learned Man got up very affably to receive the Devil, and offered him +a chair by the fire, just near the little round hole. + +'Pray don't move,' said the Devil; 'I came early on purpose not to +disturb you.' + +'You are very good,' replied the Learned Man. 'The fact is, I have to +finish my report on Lady Grope's Settlement among our Poor in the Bull +Ring--it is making some progress. But their condition is +heart-breaking, my dear sir; heart-breaking!' + +'I can well believe it,' said the Devil sadly and solemnly, leaning +back in his chair, and pressing his hands together like a roof. 'The +poor in our great towns, Sir Charles' (for the Learned Man had been +made a Baronet), 'the condition, I say, of the--Don't I feel a +draught?' he added abruptly. For the Devil can't bear draughts. + +'Why,' said the Learned Man, as though ashamed, 'just near your chair +there _is_ a little hole that I have done my best to fill up, but +somehow it seemed impossible to fill it... I don't know...' + +The Devil hates excuses, and is above all practical, so he just +whipped the soul of a lawyer out of his side-pocket, tied a knot in it +to stiffen it, and shoved it into the hole. + +'There!' said the Devil contentedly; 'if you had taken a piece of rag, +or what not, you might yourself... Hulloa!...' He looked down and saw +the hole still gaping, and he felt a furious draught coming up again. +He wondered a little, and then muttered: 'It's a pity I have on my +best things. I never dare crease them, and I have nothing in my +pockets to speak of, otherwise I might have brought something bigger.' +He felt in his left-hand trouser pocket, and fished out a pedant, +crumpled him carefully into a ball, and stuffed him hard into the +hole, so that he suffered agonies. Then the Devil watched carefully. +The soul of the pedant was at first tugged as if from below, then +drawn slowly down, and finally shot off out of sight. + +'This is a most extraordinary thing!' said the Devil. + +'It is the draught. It is very strong between the joists,' ventured +the Learned Man. + +'Fiddle-sticks ends!' shouted the Devil. 'It is a trick! But I've +never been caught yet, and I never will be.' + +He clapped his hands, and a whole host of his followers poured in +through the windows with mortgages, Acts of Parliament, legal +decisions, declarations of war, charters to universities, patents for +medicines, naturalization orders, shares in gold mines, +specifications, prospectuses, water companies' reports, publishers' +agreements, letters patent, freedoms of cities, and, in a word, all +that the Devil controls in the way of hole-stopping rubbish; and the +Devil, kneeling on the floor, stuffed them into the hole like a +madman. But as fast as he stuffed, the little imps below (who had +summoned a number of their kind to their aid also) pulled it through +and carted it away. And the Devil, like one possessed, lashed the +floor with his tail, and his eyes glared like coals of fire, and the +sweat ran down his face, and he breathed hard, and pushed every +imaginable thing he had into the hole so swiftly that at last his +documents and parchments looked like streaks and flashes. But the +loyal little imps, not to be beaten, drew them through into the cellar +as fast as machinery, and whirled them to their assistants; and all +the poor lost souls who had been pressed into the service were +groaning that their one holiday in the year was being filched from +them, when, just as the process was going on so fast that it roared +like a printing-machine in full blast, the clock in the hall struck +twelve. + +The Devil suddenly stopped and stood up. + +'Out of my house,' said the Learned Man; 'out of my house! I've had +enough of you, and I've no time for fiddle-faddle! It's past twelve, +and I've won!' + +The Devil, though still panting, smiled a diabolical smile, and +pulling out his repeater (which he had taken as a perquisite from the +body of a member of Parliament), said, 'I suppose you keep Greenwich +time?' + +'Certainly!' said Sir Charles. + +'Well,' said the Devil, 'so much the worse for you to live in Suffolk. +You're four minutes fast, so I'll trouble you to come along with me; +and I warn you that any words you now say may be used against...' + +At this point the Learned Man's patron saint, who thought things had +gone far enough, materialized himself and coughed gently. They both +looked round, and there was St Charles sitting in the easy chair. + +'So far,' murmured the Saint to the Devil suavely, 'so far from being +four minutes too early, you are exactly a year too late.' On saying +this, the Saint smiled a genial, priestly smile, folded his hands, +twiddled his thumbs slowly round and round, and gazed in a fatherly +way at the Devil. + +'What do you mean?' shouted the Devil. + +'What I say,' said St Charles calmly; '1900 is not the last year of +the nineteenth century; it is the first year of the twentieth.' + +'Oh!' sneered the Devil, 'are you an anti-vaccinationist as well? Now, +look here' (and he began counting on his fingers); 'supposing in the +year 1 B.C. ...' + +'I never argue,' said St Charles. + +'Well, all I know is,' answered the Devil with some heat, 'that in +this matter as in most others, thank the Lord, I have on my side all +the historians and all the scientists, all the universities, all +the...' + +'And I,' interrupted St Charles, waving his hand like a gentleman (he +is a Borromeo), 'I have the Pope!' + +At this the Devil gave a great howl, and disappeared in a clap of +thunder, and was never seen again till his recent appearance at +Brighton. + +So the Learned Man was saved; but hardly; for he had to spend five +hundred years in Purgatory catechizing such heretics and pagans as got +there, and instructing them in the true faith. And with the more +muscular he passed a knotty time. + +You do not see the river Po till you are close to it. Then, a little +crook in the road being passed, you come between high trees, and +straight out before you, level with you, runs the road into and over a +very wide mass of tumbling water. It does not look like a bridge, it +looks like a quay. It does not rise; it has all the appearance of +being a strip of road shaved off and floated on the water. + +All this is because it passes over boats, as do some bridges over the +Rhine. (At Cologne, I believe, and certainly at Kiel--for I once sat +at the end of that and saw a lot of sad German soldiers drilling, a +memory which later made me understand (1) why they can be out-marched +by Latins; (2) why they impress travellers and civilians; (3) why the +governing class in Germany take care to avoid common service; (4) why +there is no promotion from the ranks; and (5) why their artillery is +too rigid and not quick enough. It also showed me something intimate +and fundamental about the Germans which Tacitus never understood and +which all our historians miss--they are _of necessity_ histrionic. +Note I do not say it is a vice of theirs. It is a necessity of theirs, +an appetite. They must see themselves on a stage. Whether they do +things well or ill, whether it is their excellent army with its +ridiculous parade, or their eighteenth-century _sans-soucis_ with +avenues and surprises, or their national legends with gods in wigs and +strong men in tights, they _must_ be play-actors to be happy and +therefore to be efficient; and if I were Lord of Germany, and desired +to lead my nation and to be loved by them, I should put great golden +feathers on my helmet, I should use rhetorical expressions, spout +monologues in public, organize wide cavalry charges at reviews, and +move through life generally to the crashing of an orchestra. For by +doing this even a vulgar, short, and diseased man, who dabbled in +stocks and shares and was led by financiers, could become a hero, and +do his nation good.) + +LECTOR. What is all this? + +AUCTOR. It is a parenthesis. + +LECTOR. It is good to know the names of the strange things one meets +with on one's travels. + +AUCTOR. So I return to where I branched off, and tell you that the +river Po is here crossed by a bridge of boats. + +It is a very large stream. Half-way across, it is even a trifle +uncomfortable to be so near the rush of the water on the trembling +pontoons. And on that day its speed and turbulence were emphasized by +the falling rain. For the marks of the rain on the water showed the +rapidity of the current, and the silence of its fall framed and +enhanced the swirl of the great river. + +Once across, it is a step up into Piacenza--a step through mud and +rain. On my right was that plain where Barbarossa received, and was +glorified by, the rising life of the twelfth century; there the +renaissance of our Europe saw the future glorious for the first time +since the twilight of Rome, and being full of morning they imagined a +new earth and gave it a Lord. It was at Roncaglia, I think in spring, +and I wish I had been there. For in spring even the Lombard plain they +say is beautiful and generous, but in summer I know by experience that +it is cold, brutish, and wet. + +And so in Piacenza it rained and there was mud, till I came to a hotel +called the Moor's Head, in a very narrow street, and entering it I +discovered a curious thing: the Italians live in palaces: I might have +known it. + +They are the impoverished heirs of a great time; its garments cling to +them, but their rooms are too large for the modern penury. I found +these men eating in a great corridor, in a hall, as they might do in a +palace. I found high, painted ceilings and many things of marble, a +vast kitchen, and all the apparatus of the great houses--at the +service of a handful of contented, unknown men. So in England, when we +have worked out our full fate, happier but poorer men will sit in the +faded country-houses (a community, or an inn, or impoverished +squires), and rough food will be eaten under mouldering great +pictures, and there will be offices or granaries in the galleries of +our castles; and where Lord Saxonthorpe (whose real name is +Hauptstein) now plans our policy, common Englishmen will return to the +simpler life, and there will be dogs, and beer, and catches upon +winter evenings. For Italy also once gathered by artifice the wealth +that was not of her making. + +He was a good man, the innkeeper of this palace. He warmed me at his +fire in his enormous kitchen, and I drank Malaga to the health of the +cooks. I ate of their food, I bought a bottle of a new kind of sweet +wine called 'Vino Dolce', and--I took the road. + +LECTOR. And did you see nothing of Piacenza? + +AUCTOR. Nothing, Lector; it was raining, and there was mud. I stood in +front of the cathedral on my way out, and watched it rain. It rained +all along the broad and splendid Emilian Way. I had promised myself +great visions of the Roman soldiery passing up that eternal road; it +still was stamped with the imperial mark, but the rain washed out its +interest, and left me cold. The Apennines also, rising abruptly from +the plain, were to have given me revelations at sunset; they gave me +none. Their foothills appeared continually on my right, they +themselves were veiled. And all these miles of road fade into the +confused memory of that intolerable plain. The night at Firenzuola, +the morning (the second morning of this visitation) still cold, still +heartless, and sodden with the abominable weather, shall form no part +of this book. + +Things grand and simple of their nature are possessed, as you know, of +a very subtle flavour. The larger music, the more majestic lengths of +verse called epics, the exact in sculpture, the classic drama, the +most absolute kinds of wine, require a perfect harmony of circumstance +for their appreciation. Whatever is strong, poignant, and immediate in +its effect is not so difficult to suit; farce, horror, rage, or what +not, these a man can find in the arts, even when his mood may be heavy +or disturbed; just as (to take their parallel in wines) strong Beaune +will always rouse a man. But that which is cousin to the immortal +spirit, and which has, so to speak, no colour but mere light, _that_ +needs for its recognition so serene an air of abstraction and of +content as makes its pleasure seem rare in this troubled life, and +causes us to recall it like a descent of the gods. + +For who, having noise around him, can strike the table with pleasure +at reading the Misanthrope, or in mere thirst or in fatigue praise +Chinon wine? Who does not need for either of these perfect things +Recollection, a variety of according conditions, and a certain easy +Plenitude of the Mind? + +So it is with the majesty of Plains, and with the haunting power of +their imperial roads. + +All you that have had your souls touched at the innermost, and have +attempted to release yourselves in verse and have written trash--(and +who know it)--be comforted. You shall have satisfaction at last, and +you shall attain fame in some other fashion--perhaps in private +theatricals or perhaps in journalism. You will be granted a prevision +of complete success, and your hearts shall be filled--but you must not +expect to find this mood on the Emilian Way when it is raining. + +All you that feel youth slipping past you and that are desolate at the +approach of age, be merry; it is not what it looks like from in front +and from outside. There is a glory in all completion, and all good +endings are but shining transitions. There will come a sharp moment of +revelation when you shall bless the effect of time. But this divine +moment--- it is not on the Emilian Way in the rain that you should +seek it. + +All you that have loved passionately and have torn your hearts asunder +in disillusions, do not imagine that things broken cannot be mended by +the good angels. There is a kind of splice called 'the long splice' +which makes a cut rope seem what it was before; it is even stronger +than before, and can pass through a block. There will descend upon you +a blessed hour when you will be convinced as by a miracle, and you +will suddenly understand the _redintegratio amoris (amoris +redintegratio,_ a Latin phrase). But this hour you will not receive in +the rain on the Emilian Way. + +Here then, next day, just outside a town called Borgo, past the middle +of morning, the rain ceased. + +Its effect was still upon the slippery and shining road, the sky was +still fast and leaden, when, in a distaste for their towns, I skirted +the place by a lane that runs westward of the houses, and sitting upon +a low wall, I looked up at the Apennines, which were now plain above +me, and thought over my approaching passage through those hills. + +But here I must make clear by a map the mass of mountains which I was +about to attempt, and in which I forded so many rivers, met so many +strange men and beasts, saw such unaccountable sights, was imprisoned, +starved, frozen, haunted, delighted, burnt up, and finally refreshed +in Tuscany--in a word, where I had the most extraordinary and +unheard-of adventures that ever diversified the life of man. + +The straight line to Rome runs from Milan not quite through Piacenza, +but within a mile or two of that city. Then it runs across the first +folds of the Apennines, and gradually diverges from the Emilian Way. +It was not possible to follow this part of the line exactly, for there +was no kind of track. But by following the Emilian Way for several +miles (as I had done), and by leaving it at the right moment, it was +possible to strike the straight line again near a village called +Medesano. + +Now on the far side of the Apennines, beyond their main crest, there +happens, most providentially, to be a river called the Serchio, whose +valley is fairly straight and points down directly to Rome. To follow +this valley would be practically to follow the line to Rome, and it +struck the Tuscan plain not far from Lucca. + +But to get from the Emilian Way over the eastern slope of the +Apennines' main ridge and crest, to where the Serchio rises on the +western side, is a very difficult matter. The few roads across the +Apennines cut my track at right angles, and were therefore useless. In +order to strike the watershed at the sources of the Serchio it was +necessary to go obliquely across a torrent and four rivers (the Taro, +the Parma, the Enza, and the Secchia), and to climb the four spurs +that divided them; crossing each nearer to the principal chain as I +advanced until, after the Secchia, the next climb would be that of the +central crest itself, on the far side of which I should find the +Serchio valley. + +Perhaps in places roads might correspond to this track. Certainly the +bulk of it would be mule-paths or rough gullies--how much I could not +tell. The only way I could work it with my wretched map was to note +the names of towns' or hamlets more or less on the line, and to pick +my way from one to another. I wrote them down as follows: Fornovo, +Calestano, Tizzano, Colagna--the last at the foot of the final pass. +The distance to that pass as the crow flies was only a little more +than thirty miles. So exceedingly difficult was the task that it took +me over two days. Till I reached Fornovo beyond the Taro, I was not +really in the hills. + +By country roads, picking my way, I made that afternoon for Medesano. +The lanes were tortuous; they crossed continual streams that ran from +the hills above, full and foaming after the rain, and frothing with +the waste of the mountains. I had not gone two miles when the sky +broke; not four when a new warmth began to steal over the air and a +sense of summer to appear in the earth about me. With the greatest +rapidity the unusual weather that had accompanied me from Milan was +changing into the normal brilliancy of the south; but it was too late +for the sun to tell, though he shone from time to time through clouds +that were now moving eastwards more perceptibly and shredding as they +moved. + +Quite tired and desiring food, keen also for rest after those +dispiriting days, I stopped, before reaching Medesano, at an inn where +three ways met; and there I purposed to eat and spend the night, for +the next day, it was easy to see, would be tropical, and I should rise +before dawn if I was to save the heat. I entered. + +The room within was of red wood. It had two tables, a little counter +with a vast array of bottles, a woman behind the counter, and a small, +nervous man in a strange hat serving. And all the little place was +filled and crammed with a crowd of perhaps twenty men, gesticulating, +shouting, laughing, quarrelling, and one very big man was explaining +to another the virtues of his knife; and all were already amply +satisfied with wine. For in this part men do not own, but are paid +wages, so that they waste the little they have. + +I saluted the company, and walking up to the counter was about to call +for wine. They had all become silent, when one man asked me a question +in Italian. I did not understand it, and attempted to say so, when +another asked the same question; then six or seven--and there was a +hubbub. And out of the hubbub I heard a similar sentence rising all +the time. To this day I do not know what it meant, but I thought (and +think) it meant 'He is a Venetian,' or 'He is the Venetian.' Something +in my broken language had made them think this, and evidently the +Venetians (or a Venetian) were (or was) gravely unpopular here. Why, I +cannot tell. Perhaps the Venetians were blacklegs. But evidently a +Venetian, or the whole Venetian nation, had recently done them a +wrong. + +At any rate one very dark-haired man put his face close up to mine, +unlipped his teeth, and began a great noise of cursing and +threatening, and this so angered me that it overmastered my fear, +which had till then been considerable. I remembered also a rule which +a wise man once told me for guidance, and it is this: 'God disposes of +victory, but, as the world is made, when men smile, smile; when men +laugh, laugh; when men hit, hit; when men shout, shout; and when men +curse, curse you also, my son, and in doubt let them always take the +first move.' + +I say my fear had been considerable, especially of the man with the +knife, but I got too angry to remember it, and advancing my face also +to this insulter's I shouted, _'Dio Ladro! Dios di mi alma! +Sanguinamento! Nombre di Dios! Che? Che vole? Non sono da Venezia io! +Sono de Francia! Je m'en fiche da vestra Venezia! Non se vede che non +parlar vestra lingua? Che sono forestiere?'_ and so forth. At this +they evidently divided into two parties, and all began raging amongst +themselves, and some at me, while the others argued louder and louder +that there was an error. + +The little innkeeper caught my arm over the counter, and I turned +round sharply, thinking he was doing me a wrong, but I saw him nodding +and winking at me, and he was on my side. This was probably because he +was responsible if anything happened, and he alone could not fly from +the police. + +He made them a speech which, for all I know, may have been to the +effect that he had known and loved me from childhood, or may have been +that he knew me for one Jacques of Turin, or may have been any other +lie. Whatever lie it was, it appeased them. Their anger went down to a +murmur, just like soda-water settling down into a glass. + +I stood wine; we drank. I showed them my book, and as my pencil needed +sharpening the large man lent me his knife for courtesy. When I got it +in my hand I saw plainly that it was no knife for stabbing with; it +was a pruning-knife, and would have bit the hand that cherished it (as +they say of serpents). On the other hand, it would have been a good +knife for ripping, and passable at a slash. You must not expect too +much of one article. + +I took food, but I saw that in this parish it was safer to sleep out +of doors than in; so in the falling evening, but not yet sunset, I +wandered on, not at a pace but looking for shelter, and I found at +last just what I wanted: a little shed, with dried ferns (as it +seemed) strewed in a corner, a few old sacks, and a broken piece of +machinery--though this last was of no use to me. + +I thought: 'It will be safe here, for I shall rise before day, and the +owner, if there is one, will not disturb me.' + +The air was fairly warm. The place quite dry. The open side looked +westward and a little south. + +The sun had now set behind the Apennines, and there was a deep +effulgence in the sky. I drank a little wine, lit a pipe, and watched +the west in silence. + +Whatever was left of the great pall from which all that rain had +fallen, now was banked up on the further side of heaven in toppling +great clouds that caught the full glow of evening. + +The great clouds stood up in heaven, separate, like persons; and no +wind blew; but everything was full of evening. I worshipped them so +far as it is permitted to worship inanimate things. + +They domed into the pure light of the higher air, inviolable. They +seemed halted in the presence of a commanding majesty who ranked them +all in order. + +This vision filled me with a large calm which a travelled man may find +on coming to his home, or a learner in the communion of wise men. +Repose, certitude, and, as it were, a premonition of glory occupied my +spirit. Before it was yet quite dark I had made a bed out of the dry +bracken, covered myself with the sacks and cloths, and very soon I +fell asleep, still thinking of the shapes of clouds and of the power +of God. + +Next morning it was as I had thought. Going out before it was fully +light, a dense mist all around and a clear sky showed what the day was +to be. As I reached Medesano the sun rose, and in half-an-hour the air +was instinct with heat; within an hour it was blinding. An early Mass +in the church below the village prepared my day, but as I took coffee +afterwards in a little inn, and asked about crossing the Taro to +Fornovo--my first point--to my astonishment they shook their heads. +The Taro was impassable. + +Why could it not be crossed? My very broken language made it difficult +for me to understand. They talked _oframi,_ which I thought meant +oars; but _rami,_ had I known it, meant the separate branches or +streams whereby these torrential rivers of Italy flow through their +arid beds. + +I drew a boat and asked if one could not cross in that (for I was a +northerner, and my idea of a river was a river with banks and water in +between), but they laughed and said 'No.' Then I made the motion of +swimming. They said it was impossible, and one man hung his head to +indicate drowning. It was serious. They said to-morrow, or rather next +day, one might do it. + +Finally, a boy that stood by said he remembered a man who knew the +river better than any one, and he, if any one could, would get me +across. So I took the boy with me up the road, and as we went I saw, +parallel to the road, a wide plain of dazzling rocks and sand, and +beyond it, shining and silhouetted like an Arab village, the group of +houses that was Fornovo. This plain was their sort of river in these +hills. The boy said that sometimes it was full and a mile wide, +sometimes it dwindled into dirty pools. Now, as I looked, a few thin +streams seemed to wind through it, and I could not understand the +danger. + +After a mile or two we came to a spot in the road where a patch of +brushwood only separated us from the river-bed. Here the boy bade me +wait, and asked a group of peasants whether the guide was in; they +said they thought so, and some went up into the hillside with the boy +to fetch him, others remained with me, looking at the river-bed and at +Fornovo beyond, shaking their heads, and saying it had not been done +for days. But I did not understand whether the rain-freshet had passed +and was draining away, or whether it had not yet come down from +beyond, and I waited for the guide. + +They brought him at last down from his hut among the hills. He came +with great strides, a kindly-looking man, extremely tall and thin, and +with very pale eyes. He smiled. They pointed me out to him, and we +struck the bargain by holding up three fingers each for three lira, +and nodding. Then he grasped his long staff and I mine, we bade +farewell to the party, and together we went in silence through thick +brushwood down towards the broad river-bed. The stones of it glared +like the sands of Africa; Fornovo baked under the sun all white and +black; between us was this broad plain of parched shingle and rocks +that could, in a night, become one enormous river, or dwindle to a +chain of stagnant ponds. To-day some seven narrow streams wandered in +the expanse, and again they seemed so easy to cross that again I +wondered at the need of a guide. + +We came to the edge of the first, and I climbed on the guide's back. +He went bare-legged into the stream deeper and deeper till my feet, +though held up high, just touched the water; then laboriously he +climbed the further shore, and I got down upon dry land. It had been +but twenty yards or so, and he knew the place well. I had seen, as we +crossed, what a torrent this first little stream was, and I now knew +the difficulty and understood the warnings of the inn. + +The second branch was impassable. We followed it up for nearly a mile +to where 'an island' (that is, a mass of high land that must have been +an island in flood-time, and that had on it an old brown village) +stood above the white bed of the river. Just at this 'island' my guide +found a ford. And the way he found it is worth telling. He taught me +the trick, and it is most useful to men who wander alone in mountains. + +You take a heavy stone, how heavy you must learn to judge, for a more +rapid current needs a heavier stone; but say about ten pounds. This +you lob gently into mid-stream. _How,_ it is impossible to describe, +but when you do it it is quite easy to see that in about four feet of +water, or less, the stone splashes quite differently from the way it +does in five feet or more. It is a sure test, and one much easier to +acquire by practice than to write about. To teach myself this trick I +practised it throughout my journey in these wilds. + +Having found a ford then, he again took me on his shoulders, but, in +mid-stream, the water being up to his breast, his foot slipped on a +stone (all the bed beneath was rolling and churning in the torrent), +and in a moment we had both fallen. He pulled me up straight by his +side, and then indeed, overwhelmed in the rush of water, it was easy +to understand how the Taro could drown men, and why the peasants +dreaded these little ribbons of water. + +The current rushed and foamed past me, coming nearly to my neck; and +it was icy cold. One had to lean against it, and the water so took +away one's weight that at any moment one might have slipped and been +carried away. The guide, a much taller man (indeed he was six foot +three or so), supported me, holding my arm: and again in a moment we +reached dry land. + +After that adventure there was no need for carrying. The third, +fourth, fifth, and sixth branches were easily fordable. The seventh +was broad and deep, and I found it a heavy matter; nor should I have +waded it but for my guide, for the water bore against me like a man +wrestling, and it was as cold as Acheron, the river of the dead. Then +on the further shore, and warning him (in Lingua Franca) of his peril, +I gave him his wage, and he smiled and thanked me, and went back, +choosing his plans at leisure. + +Thus did I cross the river Taro; a danger for men. + +Where I landed was a poor man sunning himself. He rose and walked with +me to Fornovo. He knew the guide. + +'He is a good man,' he said to me of this friend. 'He is as good as a +little piece of bread.' + +'E vero,' I answered; 'e San Cristophero.' + +This pleased the peasant; and indeed it was true. For the guide's +business was exactly that of St Christopher, except that the Saint +took no money, and lived, I suppose, on air. + +And so to Fornovo; and the heat blinded and confused, and the air was +alive with flies. But the sun dried me at once, and I pressed up the +road because I needed food. After I had eaten in this old town I was +preparing to make for Calestano and to cross the first high spur of +the Apennines that separated me from it, when I saw, as I left the +place, a very old church; and I stayed a moment and looked at carvings +which were in no order, but put in pell-mell, evidently chosen from +some older building. They were barbaric, but one could see that they +stood for the last judgement of man, and there were the good looking +foolish, and there were the wicked being boiled by devils in a pot, +and what was most pleasing was one devil who with great joy was +carrying off a rich man's gold in a bag. But now we are too wise to +believe in such follies, and when we die we take our wealth with us; +in the ninth century they had no way of doing this, for no system of +credit yet obtained. + +Then leaving the main road which runs to Pontremoli and at last to +Spezzia, my lane climbed up into the hills and ceased, little by +little, to be even a lane. It became from time to time the bed of a +stream, then nothing, then a lane again, and at last, at the head of +the glen, I confessed to having lost it; but I noted a great rock or +peak above me for a landmark, and I said to myself- + +'No matter. The wall of this glen before me is obviously the ridge of +the spur; the rock must be left to the north, and I have but to cross +the ridge by its guidance.' By this time, however, the heat overcame +me, and, as it was already afternoon, and as I had used so much of the +preceding night for my journey, I remembered the wise custom of hot +countries and lay down to sleep. + +I slept but a little while, yet when I woke the air was cooler. I +climbed the side of the glen at random, and on the summit I found, to +my disgust, a road. What road could it be? To this day I do not know. +Perhaps I had missed my way and struck the main highway again. Perhaps +(it is often so in the Apennines) it was a road leading nowhere. At +any rate I hesitated, and looked back to judge my direction. + +It was a happy accident. I was now some 2000 feet above the Taro. +There, before me, stood the high strange rock that I had watched from +below; all around it and below me was the glen or cup of bare hills, +slabs, and slopes of sand and stone calcined in the sun, and, beyond +these near things, all the plain of Lombardy was at my feet. + +It was this which made it worth while to have toiled up that steep +wall, and even to have lost my way--to see a hundred miles of the +great flat stretched out before me: all the kingdoms of the world. + +Nor was this all. There were sharp white clouds on the far northern +horizon, low down above the uncertain edge of the world. I looked +again and found they did not move. Then I knew they were the Alps. + +Believe it or not, I was looking back to a place of days before: over +how many, many miles of road! The rare, white peaks and edges could +not deceive me; they still stood to the sunlight, and sent me from +that vast distance the memory of my passage, when their snows had +seemed interminable and their height so monstrous; their cold such a +cloak of death. Now they were as far off as childhood, and I saw them +for the last time. + +All this I drew. Then finding a post directing me to a side road for +Calestano, I followed it down and down into the valley beyond; and up +the walls of this second valley as the evening fell I heard the noise +of the water running, as the Taro had run, a net of torrents from the +melting snows far off. These streams I soon saw below me, winding (as +those of the Taro had wound) through a floor of dry shingle and rock; +but when my road ceased suddenly some hundreds of feet above the bed +of the river, and when, full of evening, I had scrambled down through +trees to the brink of the water, I found I should have to repeat what +I had done that morning and to ford these streams. For there was no +track of any kind and no bridge, and Calestano stood opposite me, a +purple cluster of houses in the dusk against the farther mountain +side. + +Very warily, lobbing stones as I had been taught, and following up and +down each branch to find a place, I forded one by one the six little +cold and violent rivers, and reaching the farther shore, I reached +also, as I thought, supper, companionship, and a bed. + +But it is not in this simple way that human life is arranged. What +awaited me in Calestano was ill favour, a prison, release, base +flattery, and a very tardy meal. + +It is our duty to pity all men. It is our duty to pity those who are +in prison. It is our duty to pity those who are not in prison. How +much more is it the duty of a Christian man to pity the rich who +cannot ever get into prison? These indeed I do now specially pity, and +extend to them my commiseration. + +What! Never even to have felt the grip of the policeman; to have +watched his bold suspicious eye; to have tried to make a good show +under examination ... never to have heard the bolt grinding in the +lock, and never to have looked round at the cleanly simplicity of a +cell? Then what emotions have you had, unimprisonable rich; or what do +you know of active living and of adventure? + +It was after drinking some wine and eating macaroni and bread at a +poor inn, the only one in the place, and after having to shout at the +ill-natured hostess (and to try twenty guesses before I made her +understand that I wanted cheese), it was when I had thus eaten and +shouted, and had gone over the way to drink coffee and to smoke in a +little cafe, that my adventure befell me. + +In the inn there had been a fat jolly-looking man and two +official-looking people with white caps dining at another table. I had +taken no notice of them at the time. But as I sat smoking and thinking +in the little cafe, which was bright and full of people, I noticed a +first danger-signal when I was told sullenly that 'they had no bed; +they thought I could get none in the town': then, suddenly, these two +men in white caps came in, and they arrested me with as much ease as +you or I would hold a horse. + +A moment later there came in two magnificent fellows, gendarmes, with +swords and cocked hats, and moustaches _a l'Abd el Kader,_ as we used +to say in the old days; these four, the two gendarmes and two +policemen, sat down opposite me on chairs and began cross-questioning +me in Italian, a language in which I was not proficient. I so far +understood them as to know that they were asking for my papers. + +'Niente!' said I, and poured out on the table a card-case, a +sketch-book, two pencils, a bottle of wine, a cup, a piece of bread, a +scrap of French newspaper, an old _Secolo,_ a needle, some thread, and +a flute--but no passport. + +They looked in the card-case and found 73 lira; that is, not quite +three pounds. They examined the sketch-book critically, as behoved +southerners who are mostly of an artistic bent: but they found no +passport. They questioned me again, and as I picked about for words to +reply, the smaller (the policeman, a man with a face like a fox) +shouted that he had heard me speaking Italian _currently_ in the inn, +and that my hesitation was a blind. + +This lie so annoyed me that I said angrily in French (which I made as +southern as possible to suit them): + +'You lie: and you can be punished for such lies, since you are an +official.' For though the police are the same in all countries, and +will swear black is white, and destroy men for a song, yet where there +is a _droit administratif-_ that is, where the Revolution has made +things tolerable--you are much surer of punishing your policeman, and +he is much less able to do you a damage than in England or America; +for he counts as an official and is under a more public discipline and +responsibility if he exceeds his powers. + +Then I added, speaking distinctly, 'I can speak French and Latin. Have +you a priest in Calestano, and does he know Latin?' + +This was a fine touch. They winced, and parried it by saying that the +Sindaco knew French. Then they led me away to their barracks while +they fetched the Sindaco, and so I was imprisoned. + +But not for long. Very soon I was again following up the street, and +we came to the house of the Sindaco or Mayor. There he was, an old man +with white hair, God bless him, playing cards with his son and +daughter. To him therefore, as understanding French, I was bidden +address myself. I told him in clear and exact idiom that his policemen +were fools, that his town was a rabbit-warren, and his prison the only +cleanly thing in it; that half-a-dozen telegrams to places I could +indicate would show where I had passed; that I was a common tourist, +not even an artist (as my sketch-book showed), and that my cards gave +my exact address and description. + +But the Sindaco, the French-speaking Sindaco, understood me not in the +least, and it seemed a wicked thing in me to expose him in his old +age, so I waited till he spoke. He spoke a word common to all +languages, and one he had just caught from my lips. + +'Tourist-e?' he said. + +I nodded. Then he told them to let me go. It was as simple as that; +and to this day, I suppose, he passes for a very bilingual Mayor. He +did me a service, and I am willing to believe that in his youth he +smacked his lips over the subtle flavour of Voltaire, but I fear +to-day he would have a poor time with Anatole France. + +What a contrast was there between the hour when I had gone out of the +cafe a prisoner and that when I returned rejoicing with a crowd about +me, proclaiming my innocence, and shouting one to another that I was a +tourist and had seventy-three lira on my person! The landlady smiled +and bowed: she had before refused me a bed! The men at the tables made +me a god! Nor did I think them worse for this. Why should I? A man +unknown, unkempt, unshaven, in tatters, covered with weeks of travel +and mud, and in a suit that originally cost not ten shillings; having +slept in leaves and ferns, and forest places, crosses a river at dusk +and enters a town furtively, not by the road. He is a foreigner; he +carries a great club. Is it not much wiser to arrest such a man? Why +yes, evidently. And when you have arrested him, can you do more than +let him go without proof, on his own word? Hardly! + +Thus I loved the people of Calestano, especially for this strange +adventure they had given me; and next day, having slept in a human +room, I went at sunrise up the mountain sides beyond and above their +town, and so climbed by a long cleft the _second_ spur of the +Apennines: the spur that separated me from the _third_ river, the +Parma. And my goal above the Parma (when I should have crossed it) was +a place marked in the map 'Tizzano'. To climb this second spur, to +reach and cross the Parma in the vale below, to find Tizzano, I left +Calestano on that fragrant morning; and having passed and drawn a +little hamlet called Frangi, standing on a crag, I went on up the +steep vale and soon reached the top of the ridge, which here dips a +little and allows a path to cross over to the southern side. + +It is the custom of many, when they get over a ridge, to begin +singing. Nor did I fail, early as was the hour, to sing in passing +this the second of my Apennine summits. I sang easily with an open +throat everything that I could remember in praise of joy; and I did +not spare the choruses of my songs, being even at pains to imitate +(when they were double) the various voices of either part. + +Now, so much of the Englishman was in me that, coming round a corner +of rock from which one first sees Beduzzo hanging on its ledge (as you +know), and finding round this corner a peasant sitting at his ease, I +was ashamed. For I did not like to be overheard singing fantastic +songs. But he, used to singing as a solitary pastime, greeted me, and +we walked along together, pointing out to each other the glories of +the world before us and exulting in the morning. It was his business +to show me things and their names: the great Mountain of the +Pilgrimage to the South, the strange rock of Castel-Nuovo; in the far +haze the plain of Parma; and Tizzano on its high hill, the ridge +straight before me. He also would tell me the name in Italian of the +things to hand--my boots, my staff, my hat; and I told him their names +in French, all of which he was eager to learn. + +We talked of the way people here tilled and owned ground, of the +dangers in the hills, and of the happiness of lonely men. But if you +ask how we understood each other, I will explain the matter to you. + +In Italy, in the Apennines of the north, there seem to be three strata +of language. In the valleys the Italian was pure, resonant, and +foreign to me. There dwell the townsmen, and they deal down river +with the plains. Half-way up (as at Frangi, at Beduzzo, at Tizzano) I +began to understand them. They have the nasal 'n'; they clip their +words. On the summits, at last, they speak like northerners, and I was +easily understood, for they said not _'vino' _but _'vin';_ not _'duo'_ +but _'du'_, and so forth. They are the Gauls of the hills. I told them +so, and they were very pleased. + +Then I and my peasant parted, but as one should never leave a man +without giving him something to show by way of token on the Day of +Judgement, I gave this man a little picture of Milan, and bade him +keep it for my sake. + +So he went his way, and I mine, and the last thing he said to me was +about a _'molinar'_, but I did not know what that meant. + +When I had taken a cut down the mountain, and discovered a highroad at +the bottom, I saw that the river before me needed fording, like all +the rest; and as my map showed me there was no bridge for many miles +down, I cast about to cross directly, if possible on some man's +shoulders. + +I met an old woman with a heap of grass on her back; I pointed to the +river, and said (in Lingua Franca) that I wished to cross. She again +used that word _'molinar',_ and I had an inkling that it meant +'miller'. I said to myself-- + +'Where there is a miller there is a mill. For _Ubi Petrus ibi +Ecclesia._ Where there is a mill there is water; a mill must have +motive power: .'. (a) I must get near the stream; (b) I must look out +for the noise and aspect of a mill. + +I therefore (thanking the grass-bearing woman) went right over the +fields till I saw a great, slow mill-wheel against a house, and a sad +man standing looking at it as though it were the Procession of God's +Providence. He was thinking of many things. I tapped him on the +shoulder (whereat he started) and spoke the great word of that valley, +_'molinar'_. It opened all the gates of his soul. He smiled at me like +a man grown young again, and, beckoning me to follow, led radiantly up +the sluice to where it drew from the river. + +Here three men were at work digging a better entry for the water. One +was an old, happy man in spectacles, the second a young man with +stilts in his hands, the third was very tall and narrow; his face was +sad, and he was of the kind that endure all things and conquer. I said +'_Molinar_?'' I had found him. + +To the man who had brought me I gave 50 c., and so innocent and good +are these people that he said _'Pourquoi?'_ or words like it, and I +said it was necessary. Then I said to the molinar, _'Quanta?'_ and he, +holding up a tall finger, said '_Una Lira'._ The young man leapt on to +his stilts, the molinar stooped down and I got upon his shoulders, and +we all attempted the many streams of the river Parma, in which I think +I should by myself have drowned. + +I say advisedly--'I should have been drowned.' These upper rivers of +the hills run high and low according to storms and to the melting of +the snows. The river of Parma (for this torrent at last fed Parma) +was higher than the rest. + +Even the molinar, the god of that valley, had to pick his way +carefully, and the young man on stilts had to go before, much higher +than mortal men, and up above the water. I could see him as he went, +and I could see that, to tell the truth, there was a ford--a rare +thing in upper waters, because in the torrent-sources of rivers either +the upper waters run over changeless rocks or else over gravel and +sand. Now if they run over rocks they have their isolated shallow +places, which any man may find, and their deep--evident by the still +and mysterious surface, where fish go round and round in the hollows; +but no true ford continuous from side to side. So it is in Scotland. +And if they run over gravel and sand, then with every storm or 'spate' +they shift and change. But here by some accident there ran--perhaps a +shelf or rock, perhaps a ruin of a Roman bridge--something at least +that was deep enough and solid enough to be a true ford--and that we +followed. + +The molinar--even the molinar--was careful of his way. Twice he +waited, waist high, while the man on stilts before us suddenly lost +ground and plunged to his feet. Once, crossing a small branch (for the +river here, like all these rivers, runs in many arms over the dry +gravel), it seemed there was no foothold and we had to cast up and +down. Whenever we found dry land, I came off the molinar's back to +rest him, and when he took the water again I mounted again. So we +passed the many streams, and stood at last on the Tizzanian side. Then +I gave a lira to the molinar, and to his companion on stilts 50 c., +who said, 'What is this for?' and I said, 'You also helped.' + +The molinar then, with gesticulations and expression of the eyes, gave +me to understand that for this 50 c. the stilt-man would take me up to +Tizzano on the high ridge and show me the path up the ridge; so the +stilt-man turned to me and said, _'Andiamo' _which means _'Allons'. +_But when the Italians say _'Andiamo' _they are less harsh than the +northern French who say _'Allans'; _for the northern French have three +troubles in the blood. They are fighters; they will for ever be +seeking the perfect state, and they love furiously. Hence they ferment +twice over, like wine subjected to movement and breeding acidity. +Therefore is it that when they say _'Allons'_ it is harsher than +_'Andiamo'._ My Italian said to me genially, _'Andiamo_'. + +The Catholic Church makes men. By which I do not mean boasters and +swaggerers, nor bullies nor ignorant fools, who, finding themselves +comfortable, think that their comfort will be a boon to others, and +attempt (with singular unsuccess) to force it on the world; but men, +human beings, different from the beasts, capable of firmness and +discipline and recognition; accepting death; tenacious. Of her effects +the most gracious is the character of the Irish and of these Italians. +Of such also some day she may make soldiers. + +Have you ever noticed that all the Catholic Church does is thought +beautiful and lovable until she comes out into the open, and then +suddenly she is found by her enemies (which are the seven capital +sins, and the four sins calling to heaven for vengeance) to be hateful +and grinding? So it is; and it is the fine irony of her present +renovation that those who were for ever belauding her pictures, and +her saints, and her architecture, as we praise things dead, they are +the most angered by her appearance on this modern field all armed, +just as she was, with works and art and songs, sometimes superlative, +often vulgar. Note you, she is still careless of art or songs, as she +has always been. She lays her foundations in something other, which +something other our moderns hate. Yet out of that something other came +the art and song of the Middle Ages. And what art or songs have you? +She is Europe and all our past. She is returning. _Andiamo._ + +LECTOR. But Mr _(deleted by the Censor)_ does not think so? + +AUCTOR. I last saw him supping at the Savoy. _Andiamo._ + +We went up the hill together over a burnt land, but shaded with trees. +It was very hot. I could scarcely continue, so fast did my companion +go, and so much did the heat oppress me. + +We passed a fountain at which oxen drank, and there I supped up cool +water from the spout, but he wagged his finger before his face to tell +me that this was an error under a hot sun. + +We went on and met two men driving cattle up the path between the +trees. These I soon found to be talking of prices and markets with my +guide. For it was market-day. As we came up at last on to the little +town--a little, little town like a nest, and all surrounded with +walls, and a castle in it and a church--we found a thousand beasts all +lowing and answering each other along the highroad, and on into the +market square through the gate. There my guide led me into a large +room, where a great many peasants were eating soup with macaroni in +it, and some few, meat. But I was too exhausted to eat meat, so I +supped up my broth and then began diapephradizing on my fingers to +show the great innkeeper what I wanted. + +I first pulled up the macaroni out of the dish, and said, _Fromagio, +Pommodoro,_ by which I meant cheese--tomato. He then said he knew what +I meant, and brought me that spaghetti so treated, which is a dish for +a king, a cosmopolitan traitor, an oppressor of the poor, a usurer, or +any other rich man, but there is no spaghetti in the place to which +such men go, whereas these peasants will continue to enjoy it in +heaven. + +I then pulled out my bottle of wine, drank what was left out of the +neck (by way of sign), and putting it down said, _'Tale, tantum, vino +rosso.'_ My guide also said many things which probably meant that I +was a rich man, who threw his money about by the sixpence. So the +innkeeper went through a door and brought back a bottle all corked and +sealed, and said on his fingers, and with his mouth and eyes, 'THIS +KIND OF WINE IS SOMETHING VERY SPECIAL.' + +Only in the foolish cities do men think it a fine thing to appear +careless of money. So I, very narrowly watching him out of half-closed +eyes, held up my five fingers interrogatively, and said, +_'Cinquante?'_ meaning 'Dare you ask fivepence?' + +At which he and all the peasants around, even including my guide, +laughed aloud as at an excellent joke, and said, _'Cinquante, Ho! +ho!'_ and dug each other in the ribs. But the innkeeper of Tizzano Val +Parmense said in Italian a number of things which meant that I could +but be joking, and added (in passing) that a lira made it a kind of +gift to me. A lira was, as it were, but a token to prove that it had +changed hands: a registration fee: a matter of record; at a lira it +was pure charity. Then I said, _'Soixante Dix?'_ which meant nothing +to him, so I held up seven fingers; he waved his hand about genially, +and said that as I was evidently a good fellow, a traveller, and as +anyhow he was practically giving me the wine, he would make it +ninepence; it was hardly worth his while to stretch out his hand for +so little money. So then I pulled out 80 c. in coppers, and said, +_'Tutto',_ which means 'all'. Then he put the bottle before me, took +the money, and an immense clamour rose from all those who had been +watching the scene, and they applauded it as a ratified bargain. And +this is the way in which bargains were struck of old time in these +hills when your fathers and mine lived and shivered in a cave, hunted +wolves, and bargained with clubs only. + +So this being settled, and I eager for the wine, wished it to be +opened, especially to stand drink to my guide. The innkeeper was in +another room. The guide was too courteous to ask for a corkscrew, and +I did not know the Italian for a corkscrew. + +I pointed to the cork, but all I got out of my guide was a remark that +the wine was very good. Then I made the emblem and sign of a corkscrew +in my sketch-book with a pencil, but he pretended not to +understand--such was his breeding. Then I imitated the mode, sound, +and gesture of a corkscrew entering a cork, and an old man next to me +said '_Tira-buchon'--_a common French word as familiar as the woods of +Marly! It was brought. The bottle was opened and we all drank +together. + +As I rose to go out of Tizzano Val Parmense my guide said to me, _'Se +chiama Tira-Buchon perche E' lira il buchon'_ And I said to him, +_'Dominus Vobiscum'_ and left him to his hills. + +I took the road downwards from the ridge into the next dip and valley, +but after a mile or so in the great heat (it was now one o'clock) I +was exhausted. So I went up to a little wooded bank, and lay there in +the shade sketching Tizzano Val Parmense, where it stood not much +above me, and then I lay down and slept for an hour and smoked a pipe +and thought of many things. + +From the ridge on which Tizzano stands, which is the third of these +Apennine spurs, to the next, the fourth, is but a little way; one +looks across from one to the other. Nevertheless it is a difficult +piece of walking, because in the middle of the valley another ridge, +almost as high as the principal spurs, runs down, and this has to be +climbed at its lowest part before one can get down to the torrent of +the Enza, where it runs with a hollow noise in the depths of the +mountains. So the whole valley looks confused, and it appears, and is, +laborious. + +Very high up above in a mass of trees stood the first of those many +ruined towers and castles in which the Apennines abound, and of which +Canossa, far off and indistinguishable in the haze, was the chief +example. It was called 'The Tower of Rugino'. Beyond the deep trench +of the Enza, poised as it seemed on its southern bank (but really much +further off, in the Secchia valley), stood that strange high rock of +Castel-Nuovo, which the peasant had shown me that morning and which +was the landmark of this attempt. It seemed made rather by man than by +nature, so square and exact was it and so cut off from the other +hills. + +It was not till the later afternoon, when the air was already full of +the golden dust that comes before the fall of the evening, that I +stood above the Enza and saw it running thousands of feet below. Here +I halted for a moment irresolute, and looked at the confusion of the +hills. It had been my intention to make a straight line for Collagna, +but I could not tell where Collagna lay save that it was somewhere +behind the high mountain that was now darkening against the sky. +Moreover, the Enza (as I could see down, down from where I stood) was +not fordable. It did not run in streams but in one full current, and +was a true river. All the scene was wild. I had come close to the +central ridge of the Apennines. It stood above me but five or six +clear miles away, and on its slopes there were patches and fields of +snow which were beginning to glimmer in the diminishing light. + +Four peasants sat on the edge of the road. They were preparing to go +to their quiet homesteads, and they were gathering their scythes +together, for they had been mowing in a field. Coming up to these, I +asked them how I might reach Collagna. They told me that I could not +go straight, as I had wished, on account of the impassable river, but +that if I went down the steep directly below me I should find a +bridge; that thence a path went up the opposite ridge to where a +hamlet, called Ceregio (which they showed me beyond the valley), stood +in trees on the crest, and once there (they said) I could be further +directed. I understood all their speech except one fatal word. I +thought they told me that Ceregio was _half_ the way to Collagna; and +what that error cost me you shall hear. + +They drank my wine, I ate their bread, and we parted: they to go to +their accustomed place, and I to cross this unknown valley. But when I +had left these grave and kindly men, the echo of their voices remained +with me; the deep valley of the Enza seemed lonely, and as I went +lower and lower down towards the noise of the river I lost the sun. + +The Enza was flooded. A rough bridge, made of stout logs resting on +trunks of trees that were lashed together like tripods and supported a +long plank, was afforded to cross it. But in the high water it did not +quite reach to the hither bank. I rolled great stones into the water +and made a short causeway, and so, somewhat perilously, I attained the +farther shore, and went up, up by a little precipitous path till I +reached the hamlet of Ceregio standing on its hill, blessed and +secluded; for no road leads in or out of it, but only mule-paths. + +The houses were all grouped together round a church; it was dim +between them; but several men driving oxen took me to a house that was +perhaps the inn, though there was no sign; and there in a twilight +room we all sat down together like Christians in perfect harmony, and +the woman of the house served us. + +Now when, after this communion, I asked the way to Collagna, they must +have thought me foolish, and have wondered why I did not pass the +night with them, for they knew how far off Collagna was. But I (by the +error in language of which I have told you) believed it to be but a +short way off. It was in reality ten miles. The oldest of my +companions said he would put me on the way. + +We went together in the half light by a lane that followed the crest +of the hill, and we passed a charming thing, a little white sculpture +in relief, set up for a shrine and representing the Annunciation; and +as we passed it we both smiled. Then in a few hundred yards we passed +another that was the Visitation, and they were gracious and beautiful +to a degree, and I saw that they stood for the five joyful mysteries. +Then he had to leave me, and he said, pointing to the little shrine: + +'When you come to the fifth of these the path divides. Take that to +the left, and follow it round the hollow of the mountain: it will +become a lane. This lane crosses a stream and passes near a tower. +When you have reached the tower it joins a great highroad, and that is +the road to Collagna.' + +And when he indicated the shrines he smiled, as though in apology for +them, and I saw that we were of the same religion. Then (since people +who will not meet again should give each other presents mutually) I +gave him the best of my two pipes, a new pipe with letters carved on +it, which he took to be the initials of my name, and he on his part +gave me a hedge-rose which he had plucked and had been holding in his +fingers. And I continued the path alone. + +Certainly these people have a benediction upon them, granted them for +their simple lives and their justice. Their eyes are fearless and +kindly. They are courteous, straight, and all have in them laughter +and sadness. They are full of songs, of memories, of the stories of +their native place; and their worship is conformable to the world that +God made. May they possess their own land, and may their influence +come again from Italy to save from jar, and boasting, and ineptitude +the foolish, valourless cities, and the garish crowds of shouting +men.... And let us especially pray that the revival of the faith may +do something for our poor old universities. + +Already, when I heard all these directions, they seemed to argue a +longer road than I had expected. It proved interminable. + +It was now fully dark; the night was very cold from the height of the +hills; a dense dew began to fall upon the ground, and the sky was full +of stars. For hours I went on slowly down the lane that ran round the +hollow of the wooded mountain, wondering why I did not reach the +stream he spoke of. It was midnight when I came to the level, and yet +I heard no water, and did not yet see the tower against the sky. +Extreme fatigue made it impossible, as I thought, to proceed farther, +when I saw a light in a window, and went to it quickly and stood +beneath it. A woman from the window called me _Caro mio,_ which was +gracious, but she would not let me sleep even in the straw of the +barn. + +I hobbled on in despair of the night, for the necessity of sleep was +weighing me down after four high hills climbed that day, and after the +rough ways and the heat and the continual marching. + +I found a bridge which crossed the deep ravine they had told me of. +This high bridge was new, and had been built of fine stone, yet it was +broken and ruined, and a gap suddenly showed in the dark. I stepped +back from it in fear. The clambering down to the stream and up again +through the briars to regain the road broke me yet more, and when, on +the hill beyond, I saw the tower faintly darker against the dark sky, +I went up doggedly to it, fearing faintness, and reaching it where it +stood (it was on the highest ground overlooking the Secchia valley), I +sat down on a stone beside it and waited for the morning. + +The long slope of the hills fell away for miles to where, by daylight, +would have lain the misty plain of Emilia. The darkness confused the +landscape. The silence of the mountains and the awful solemnity of the +place lent that vast panorama a sense of the terrible, under the dizzy +roof of the stars. Every now and again some animal of the night gave a +cry in the undergrowth of the valley, and the great rock of +Castel-Nuovo, now close and enormous--bare, rugged, a desert +place--added something of doom. + +The hours were creeping on with the less certain stars; a very faint +and unliving grey touched the edges of the clouds. The cold possessed +me, and I rose to walk, if I could walk, a little farther. + +What is that in the mind which, after (it may be) a slight +disappointment or a petty accident, causes it to suffer on the scale +of grave things? + +I have waited for the dawn a hundred times, attended by that mournful, +colourless spirit which haunts the last hours of darkness; and +influenced especially by the great timeless apathy that hangs round +the first uncertain promise of increasing light. For there is an hour +before daylight when men die, and when there is nothing above the soul +or around it, when even the stars fail. + +And this long and dreadful expectation I had thought to be worst when +one was alone at sea in a small boat without wind; drifting beyond +one's harbour in the ebb of the outer channel tide, and sogging back +at the first flow on the broad, confused movement of a sea without any +waves. In such lonely mornings I have watched the Owers light turning, +and I have counted up my gulf of time, and wondered that moments could +be so stretched out in the clueless mind. I have prayed for the +morning or for a little draught of wind, and this I have thought, I +say, the extreme of absorption into emptiness and longing. + +But now, on this ridge, dragging myself on to the main road, I found a +deeper abyss of isolation and despairing fatigue than I had ever +known, and I came near to turning eastward and imploring the hastening +of light, as men pray continually without reason for things that can +but come in a due order. I still went forward a little, because when I +sat down my loneliness oppressed me like a misfortune; and because my +feet, going painfully and slowly, yet gave a little balance and rhythm +to the movement of my mind. + +I heard no sound of animals or birds. I passed several fields, +deserted in the half-darkness; and in some I felt the hay, but always +found it wringing wet with dew, nor could I discover a good shelter +from the wind that blew off the upper snow of the summits. For a +little space of time there fell upon me, as I crept along the road, +that shadow of sleep which numbs the mind, but it could not compel me +to lie down, and I accepted it only as a partial and beneficent +oblivion which covered my desolation and suffering as a thin, +transparent cloud may cover an evil moon. + +Then suddenly the sky grew lighter upon every side. That cheating +gloom (which I think the clouds in purgatory must reflect) lifted from +the valley as though to a slow order given by some calm and good +influence that was marshalling in the day. Their colours came back to +things; the trees recovered their shape, life, and trembling; here and +there, on the face of the mountain opposite, the mists by their +movement took part in the new life, and I thought I heard for the +first time the tumbling water far below me in the ravine. That subtle +barrier was drawn which marks to-day from yesterday; all the night and +its despondency became the past and entered memory. The road before +me, the pass on my left (my last ridge, and the entry into Tuscany), +the mass of the great hills, had become mixed into the increasing +light, that is, into the familiar and invigorating Present which I +have always found capable of opening the doors of the future with a +gesture of victory. + +My pain either left me, or I ceased to notice it, and seeing a little +way before me a bank above the road, and a fine grove of sparse and +dominant chestnuts, I climbed up thither and turned, standing to the +east. + +There, without any warning of colours, or of the heraldry that we have +in the north, the sky was a great field of pure light, and without +doubt it was all woven through, as was my mind watching it, with +security and gladness. Into this field, as I watched it, rose the sun. + +The air became warmer almost suddenly. The splendour and health of the +new day left me all in repose, and persuaded or compelled me to +immediate sleep. + +I found therefore in the short grass, and on the scented earth beneath +one of my trees, a place for lying down; I stretched myself out upon +it, and lapsed into a profound slumber, which nothing but a vague and +tenuous delight separated from complete forgetfulness. If the last +confusion of thought, before sleep possessed me, was a kind of +prayer--and certainly I was in the mood of gratitude and of +adoration--this prayer was of course to God, from whom every good +proceeds, but partly (idolatrously) to the Sun, which, of all the +things He has made, seems, of what we at least can discover, the most +complete and glorious. + +Therefore the first hours of the sunlight, after I had wakened, made +the place like a new country; for my mind which received it was new. I +reached Collagna before the great heat, following the fine highroad +that went dipping and rising again along the mountain side, and then +(leaving the road and crossing the little Secchia by a bridge), a +path, soon lost in a grassy slope, gave me an indication of my way. +For when I had gone an hour or so upwards along the shoulder of the +hill, there opened gradually before me a silent and profound vale, +hung with enormous woods, and sloping upwards to where it was closed +by a high bank beneath and between two peaks. This bank I knew could +be nothing else than the central ridge of the Apennines, the +watershed, the boundary of Tuscany, and the end of all the main part +of my journey. Beyond, the valleys would open on to the Tuscan Plain, +and at the southern limit of that, Siena was my mark; from Siena to +Rome an eager man, if he is sound, may march in three long days. Nor +was that calculation all. The satisfaction of the last lap, of the +home run, went with the word Tuscany in my mind; these cities were the +approaches and introduction of the end. + +When I had slept out the heat, I followed the woods upward through the +afternoon. They stood tangled and huge, and the mosses under them were +thick and silent, because in this last belt of the mountains height +and coolness reproduced the north. A charcoal burner was making his +furnace; after that for the last miles there was no sound. Even the +floor of the vale was a depth of grass, and no torrent ran in it but +only a little hidden stream, leafy like our streams at home. + +At last the steep bank, a wall at the end of the valley, rose +immediately above me. It was very steep and bare, desolate with the +many stumps of trees that had been cut down; but all its edge and +fringe against the sky was the line of a deep forest. + +After its laborious hundreds of feet, when the forest that crowned it +evenly was reached, the Apennines were conquered, the last great range +was passed, and there stood no barrier between this high crest and +Rome. + +The hither side of that bank, I say, had been denuded of its trees; +the roots of secular chestnuts stood like graves above the dry steep, +and had marked my last arduous climb. Now, at the summit, the highest +part was a line of cool forest, and the late afternoon mingled with +the sanctity of trees. A genial dampness pervaded the earth beneath; +grasses grew, and there were living creatures in the shade. + +Nor was this tenanted wood all the welcome I received on my entry into +Tuscany. Already I heard the noise of falling waters upon every side, +where the Serchio sprang from twenty sources on the southern slope, +and leapt down between mosses, and quarrelled, and overcame great +smooth dark rocks in busy falls. Indeed, it was like my own country in +the north, and a man might say to himself--'After so much journeying, +perhaps I am in the Enchanted Wood, and may find at last the fairy +Melisaunde.' + +A glade opened, and, the trees no longer hiding it, I looked down the +vale, which was the gate of Tuscany. There--high, jagged, rapt into +the sky--stood such a group of mountains as men dream of in good +dreams, or see in the works of painters when old age permits them +revelations. Their height was evident from the faint mist and grey of +their hues; their outline was tumultuous, yet balanced; full of +accident and poise. It was as though these high walls of Carrara, the +western boundary of the valley, had been shaped expressly for man, in +order to exalt him with unexpected and fantastic shapes, and to expand +his dull life with a permanent surprise. For a long time I gazed at +these great hills. + +Then, more silent in the mind through their influence, I went down +past the speech and companionship of the springs of the Serchio, and +the chestnut trees were redolent of evening all round. Down the bank +to where the streams met in one, down the river, across its gaping, +ruinous bridge (which some one, generations ago, had built for the +rare travellers--there were then no main roads across the Apennine, +and perhaps this rude pass was in favour); down still more gently +through the narrow upper valley I went between the chestnut trees, and +calm went with me for a companion: and the love of men and the +expectation of good seemed natural to all that had been made in this +blessed place. Of Borda, where the peasants directed me, there is no +need to speak, till crossing the Serchio once more, this time on a +trestle bridge of wood, I passed by a wider path through the groves, +and entered the dear village of Sillano, which looks right into the +pure west. And the peaks are guardians all about it: the elder +brothers of this remote and secluded valley. + +An inn received me: a great kitchen full of men and women talking, a +supper preparing, a great fire, meat smoking and drying in the +ingle-nook, a vast timbered roof going up into darkness: there I was +courteously received, but no one understood my language. Seeing there +a young priest, I said to him-- + +_'Pater, habeo linguam latinam, sed non habeo linguam Italicam. Visne +mi dare traductionem in istam linguam Toscanam non nullorum +verborum?'_ + +To this he replied, _'Libenter,'_ and the people revered us both. Thus +he told me the name for a knife was _cultello;_ for a room, _camera +par domire;_ for 'what is it called?' _'come si chiama?';_ for 'what +is the road to?' _'quella e la via a ...?'_ and other phrases wherein, +no doubt, I am wrong; but I only learnt by ear. + +Then he said to me something I did not understand, and I answered, +_'Pol-Hercle!'_ at which he seemed pleased enough. + +Then, to make conversation, I said, _'Diaconus es?'_ + +And he answered me, mildly and gravely, _'Presbyter sum.'_ + +And a little while after he left for his house, but I went out on to +the balcony, where men and women were talking in subdued tones. There, +alone, I sat and watched the night coming up into these Tuscan hills. +The first moon since that waning in Lorraine--(how many nights ago, +how many marches!)--hung in the sky, a full crescent, growing into +brightness and glory as she assumed her reign. The one star of the +west called out his silent companions in their order; the mountains +merged into a fainter confusion; heaven and the infinite air became +the natural seat of any spirit that watched this spell. The fire-flies +darted in the depths of vineyards and of trees below; then the noise +of the grasshoppers brought back suddenly the gardens of home, and +whatever benediction surrounds our childhood. Some promise of eternal +pleasures and of rest deserved haunted the village of Sillano. + +In very early youth the soul can still remember its immortal +habitation, and clouds and the edges of hills are of another kind from +ours, and every scent and colour has a savour of Paradise. What that +quality may be no language can tell, nor have men made any words, no, +nor any music, to recall it--only in a transient way and elusive the +recollection of what youth was, and purity, flashes on us in phrases +of the poets, and is gone before we can fix it in our minds--oh! my +friends, if we could but recall it! Whatever those sounds may be that +are beyond our sounds, and whatever are those keen lives which remain +alive there under memory--whatever is Youth--Youth came up that valley +at evening, borne upon a southern air. If we deserve or attain +beatitude, such things shall at last be our settled state; and their +now sudden influence upon the soul in short ecstasies is the proof +that they stand outside time, and are not subject to decay. + +This, then, was the blessing of Sillano, and here was perhaps the +highest moment of those seven hundred miles--or more. Do not therefore +be astonished, reader, if I now press on much more hurriedly to Rome, +for the goal is almost between my hands, and the chief moment has been +enjoyed, until I shall see the City. + +Now I cry out and deplore me that this next sixty miles of way, but +especially the heat of the days and the dank mists of the night, +should have to be told as of a real journey in this very repetitive +and sui-similar world. How much rather I wish that being free from +mundane and wide-awake (that is to say from perilously dusty) +considerations and droughty boredoms, I might wander forth at leisure +through the air and visit the regions where everything is as the soul +chooses: to be dropped at last in the ancient and famous town of +Siena, whence comes that kind of common brown paint wherewith men, +however wicked, can produce (if they have but the art) very surprising +effects of depth in painting: for so I read of it in a book by a fool, +at six shillings, and even that was part of a series: but if you wish +to know anything further of the matter, go you and read it, for I will +do nothing of the kind. + +Oh to be free for strange voyages even for a little while! I am tired +of the road; and so are you, and small blame to you. Your fathers also +tired of the treadmill, and mine of the conquering marches of the +Republic. Heaven bless you all! + +But I say that if it were not for the incredulity and doubt and +agnostico-schismatical hesitation, and very cumbersome air of +questioning-and-peering-about, which is the bane of our moderns, very +certainly I should now go on to tell of giants as big as cedars, +living in mountains of precious stones, and drawn to battle by dragons +in cars of gold; or of towns where the customs of men were remote and +unexpected; of countries not yet visited, and of the gods returning. +For though it is permissible, and a pleasant thing (as Bacon says), to +mix a little falsehood with one's truth (so St Louis mixed water with +his wine, and so does Sir John Growl mix vinegar with his, unless I am +greatly mistaken, for if not, how does he give it that taste at his +dinners? eh? There, I think, is a question that would puzzle him!) yet +is it much more delectable, and far worthier of the immortal spirit of +man to soar into the empyrean of pure lying--that is, to lay the +bridle on the neck of Pegasus and let him go forward, while in the +saddle meanwhile one sits well back, grips with the knee, takes the +race, and on the energy of that steed visits the wheeling stars. + +This much, then, is worth telling of the valley of the Serchio, that +it is narrow, garrulous with water brawling, wooded densely, and +contained by fantastic mountains. That it has a splendid name, like +the clashing of cymbals--Garfagnana; that it leads to the Tuscan +plain, and that it is over a day's march long. Also, it is an oven. + +Never since the early liars first cooked eggs in the sand was there +such heat, and it was made hotter by the consciousness of folly, than +which there is no more heating thing; for I think that not old +Championnet himself, with his Division of Iron, that fought one to +three and crushed the aged enormities of the oppressors as we would +crush an empty egg, and that found the summer a good time for fighting +in Naples, I say that he himself would not have marched men up the +Garfagnana in such a sun. Folly planned it, Pride held to it, and the +devils lent their climate. Garfagnana! Garfagnana! to have such a +pleasant name, and to be what you are! + +Not that there were not old towers on the steep woods of the Apennine, +nor glimpses of the higher peaks; towns also: one castle surrounded by +a fringe of humble roofs--there were all these things. But it was an +oven. So imagine me, after having passed chapels built into rocks, and +things most curious, but the whole under the strain of an intolerable +sun, coming, something after midday, to a place called Castel-Nuovo, +the first town, for Campogiamo is hardly a town. + +At Castel-Nuovo I sat upon a bridge and thought, not what good men +think (there came into my memory no historical stuff; for all I know, +Liberty never went by that valley in arms); no appreciation of beauty +filled me; I was indifferent to all save the intolerable heat, when I +suddenly recognized the enormous number of bridges that bespattered +the town. + +'This is an odd thing,' I mused. 'Here is a little worriment of a town +up in the hills, and what a powerful lot of bridges!' + +I cared not a fig for the thousand things I had been told to expect in +Tuscany; everything is in a mind, and as they were not in my mind they +did not exist. But the bridges, they indeed were worthy of admiration! + +Here was a horrible little place on a torrent bank. One bridge was +reasonable for by it went the road leading south to Lucca and to Rome; +it was common honour to let men escape. But as I sat on that main +bridge I counted seven others; indeed there must have been a worship +of a bridge-god some time or other to account for such a necklace of +bridges in such a neglected borough. + +You may say (I am off hard on the road to Borgo, drooping with the +heat, but still going strongly), you may say that is explicable +enough. First a thing is useful, you say, then it has to become +routine; then the habit, being a habit, gets a sacred idea attached to +it. So with bridges: _e.g._ Pontifex; Dervorguilla, our Ballici saint +that built a bridge; the devil that will hinder the building of +bridges; _cf. _the Porphyry Bridge in the Malay cosmogony; +Amershickel, Brueckengebildung im kult-Historischer. Passenmayer; +Durât, _Le pont antique, étude sur les origines Toscanes;_ Mr Dacre's +_The Command of Bridges in Warfare; Bridges and Empire,_ by Captain +Hole, U.S.A. You may say all this; I shall not reply. If the heat has +hindered me from saying a word of the fine open valley on the left, of +the little railway and of the last of the hills, do you suppose it +will permit me to discuss the sanctity of bridges? If it did, I think +there is a little question on 'why should habit turn sacred?' which +would somewhat confound and pose you, and pose also, for that matter, +every pedant that ever went blind and crook-backed over books, or took +ivory for horn. And there is an end of it. Argue it with whom you +will. It is evening, and I am at Borgo (for if many towns are called +Castel-Nuovo so are many called Borgo in Italy), and I desire to be +free of interruption while I eat and sleep and reflect upon the error +of that march in that heat, spoiling nearly thirty miles of road, +losing so many great and pleasurable emotions, all for haste and from +a neglect of the Italian night. + +And as I ate, and before I slept, I thought of that annotated Guide +Book which is cried out for by all Europe, and which shall tell blunt +truths. Look you out _'Garfagnana, district of, Valley of Serchio'_ +in the index. You will be referred to p. 267. Turn to p. 267. You +will find there the phrase-- + +'One can walk from the pretty little village of Sillano, nestling in +its chestnut groves, to the flourishing town of Borgo on the new Bagni +railway in a day.' + +You will find a mark [1] after that phrase. It refers to a footnote. +Glance (or look) at the bottom of the page and you will find: + +[1] But if one does one is a fool. + +So I slept late and uneasily the insufficient sleep of men who have +suffered, and in that uneasy sleep I discovered this great truth: that +if in a southern summer you do not rest in the day the night will seem +intolerably warm, but that, if you rest in the day, you will find +coolness and energy at evening. + +The next morning with daylight I continued the road to Lucca, and of +that also I will say nothing. + +LECTOR. Why on earth did you write this book? + +AUCTOR. For my amusement. + +LECTOR. And why do you suppose I got it? + +AUCTOR. I cannot conceive ... however, I will give up this much, to +tell you that at Decimo the mystery of cypress trees first came into +my adventure and pilgrimage: of cypress trees which henceforward were +to mark my Tuscan road. And I will tell you that there also I came +across a thing peculiar (I suppose) to the region of Lucca, for I saw +it there as at Decimo, and also some miles beyond. I mean fine +mournful towers built thus: In the first storey one arch, in the +second two, in the third three, and so on: a very noble way of +building. + +And I will tell you something more. I will tell you something no one +has yet heard. To wit, why this place is called Decimo, and why just +below it is another little spot called Sexta. + +LECTOR.. .. + +AUCTOR. I know what you are going to say! Do not say it. You are going +to say: 'It is because they were at the sixth and tenth milestones +from Lucca on the Roman road.' Heaven help these scientists! Did you +suppose that I thought it was called Decimo because the people had ten +toes? Tell me, why is not every place ten miles out of a Roman town +called by such a name? Eh? You are dumb. You cannot answer. Like most +moderns you have entirely missed the point. We all know that there was +a Roman town at Lucca, because it was called Luca, and if there had +been no Roman town the modern town would not be spelt with two _c's._ +All Roman towns had milestones beyond them. But why did _this_ tenth +milestone from _this_ Roman town keep its name? + +LECTOR. I am indifferent. + +AUCTOR. I will tell you. Up in the tangle of the Carrara mountains, +overhanging the Garfagnana, was a wild tribe, whose name I forget +(unless it were the Bruttii), but which troubled the Romans not a +little, defeating them horribly, and keeping the legionaries in some +anxiety for years. So when the soldiers marched out north from Luca +about six miles, they could halt and smile at each other, and say 'At +_Sextant..._ that's all right. All safe so far!' and therefore only a +little village grew up at this little rest and emotion. But as they +got nearer the gates of the hills they began to be visibly perturbed, +and they would say: 'The eighth mile! cheer up!' Then 'The ninth mile! +Sanctissima Madonna! Have you seen anything moving on the heights?' +But when they got to the _tenth_ milestone, which stands before the +very jaws of the defile, then indeed they said with terrible emphasis, +_'Ad Decimam!'_ And there was no restraining them: they would camp and +entrench, or die in the venture: for they were Romans and stern +fellows, and loved a good square camp and a ditch, and sentries and a +clear moon, and plenty of sharp stakes, and all the panoply of war. +That is the origin of Decimo. + +For all my early start, the intolerable heat had again taken the +ascendant before I had fairly entered the plain. Then, it being yet +but morning, I entered from the north the town of Lucca, which is the +neatest, the regularest, the exactest, the most fly-in-amber little +town in the world, with its uncrowded streets, its absurd +fortifications, and its contented silent houses--all like a family at +ease and at rest under its high sun. It is as sharp and trim as its +own map, and that map is as clear as a geometrical problem. Everything +in Lucca is good. + +I went with a short shadow, creeping when I could on the eastern side +of the street to save the sunlight; then I came to the main square, +and immediately on my left was the Albergo di Something-or-other, a +fine great hotel, but most unfortunately right facing the blazing sky. +I had to stop outside it to count my money. I counted it wrong and +entered. There I saw the master, who talked French. + +'Can you in an hour,' said I, 'give me a meal to my order, then a bed, +though it is early day?' This absurd question I made less absurd by +explaining to him my purpose. How I was walking to Rome and how, being +northern, I was unaccustomed to such heat; how, therefore, I had +missed sleep, and would find it necessary in future to walk mainly by +night. For I had now determined to fill the last few marches up in +darkness, and to sleep out the strong hours of the sun. + +All this he understood; I ordered such a meal as men give to beloved +friends returned from wars. I ordered a wine I had known long ago in +the valley of the Saône in the old time of peace before ever the Greek +came to the land. While they cooked it I went to their cool and +splendid cathedral to follow a late Mass. Then I came home and ate +their admirable food and drank the wine which the Burgundians had +trodden upon the hills of gold so many years before. They showed me a +regal kind of a room where a bed with great hangings invited repose. + +All my days of marching, the dirty inns, the forests, the nights +abroad, the cold, the mists, the sleeplessness, the faintness, the +dust, the dazzling sun, the Apennines--all my days came over me, and +there fell on me a peaceful weight, as his two hundred years fell upon +Charlemagne in the tower of Saragossa when the battle was done; after +he had curbed the valley of Ebro and christened Bramimonde. + +So I slept deeply all day long; and, outside, the glare made a silence +upon the closed shutters, save that little insects darted in the outer +air. + +When I woke it was evening. So well had they used me that I paid what +they asked, and, not knowing what money remained over, I left their +town by the southern gate, crossed the railway and took the road. + +My way lay under the flank of that mountain whereby the Luccans cannot +see Pisa, or the Pisans cannot see Lucca--it is all one to me, I shall +not live in either town, God willing; and if they are so eager to +squint at one another, in Heaven's name, cannot they be at the pains +to walk round the end of the hill? It is this laziness which is the +ruin of many; but not of pilgrims, for here was I off to cross the +plain of Arno in one night, and reach by morning the mouth and gate of +that valley of the Elsa, which same is a very manifest proof of how +Rome was intended to be the end and centre of all roads, the chief +city of the world, and the Popes' residence--as, indeed, it plainly is +to this day, for all the world to deny at their peril, spiritual, +geographical, historical, sociological, economic, and philosophical. + +For if some such primeval and predestinarian quality were not inherent +in the City, how, think you, would the valley of the Serchio--the hot, +droughty, and baking Garfagnana--lead down pointing straight to Rome; +and how would that same line, prolonged across the plain, find fitting +it exactly beyond that plain this vale of the Elsa, itself leading up +directly towards Rome? I say, nowhere in the world is such a +coincidence observable, and they that will not take it for a portent +may go back to their rationalism and consort with microbes and make +their meals off logarithms, washed down with an exact distillation of +the root of minus one; and the peace of fools, that is the deepest and +most balmy of all, be theirs for ever and ever. + +Here again you fall into errors as you read, ever expecting something +new; for of that night's march there is nothing to tell, save that it +was cool, full of mist, and an easy matter after the royal +entertainment and sleep of the princely Albergo that dignifies Lucca. +The villages were silent, the moon soon left the sky, and the stars +could not show through the fog, which deepened in the hours after +midnight. + +A map I had bought in Lucca made the difficulties of the first part of +the road (though there were many cross-ways) easy enough; and the +second part, in midnight and the early hours, was very plain sailing, +till--having crossed the main line and having, at last, very weary, +come up to the branch railway at a slant from the west and north, I +crossed that also under the full light--I stood fairly in the Elsa +valley and on the highroad which follows the railway straight to +Siena. That long march, I say, had been easy enough in the coolness +and in the dark; but I saw nothing; my interior thoughts alone would +have afforded matter for this part; but of these if you have not had +enough in near six hundred miles of travel, you are a stouter fellow +than I took you for. + +Though it was midsummer, the light had come quickly. Long after +sunrise the mist dispersed, and the nature of the valley appeared. + +It was in no way mountainous, but easy, pleasant, and comfortable, +bounded by low, rounded hills, having upon them here and there a row +of cypresses against the sky; and it was populous with pleasant farms. +Though the soil was baked and dry, as indeed it is everywhere in this +south, yet little regular streams (or canals) irrigated it and +nourished many trees--- but the deep grass of the north was wanting. + +For an hour or more after sunrise I continued my way very briskly; +then what had been the warmth of the early sun turned into the violent +heat of day, and remembering Merlin where he says that those who will +walk by night must sleep by day, and having in my mind the severe +verses of James Bayle, sometime Fellow of St Anne's, that 'in Tuscan +summers as a general rule, the days are sultry but the nights are +cool' (he was no flamboyant poet; he loved the quiet diction of the +right wing of English poetry), and imagining an owlish habit of +sleeping by day could be acquired at once, I lay down under a tree of +a kind I had never seen; and lulled under the pleasant fancy that this +was a picture-tree drawn before the Renaissance, and that I was +reclining in some background landscape of the fifteenth century (for +the scene was of that kind), I fell asleep. + +When I woke it was as though I had slept long; but I doubted the +feeling. The young sun still low in the sky, and the shadows not yet +shortened, puzzled me. I looked at my watch, but the dislocation of +habit which night marches produce had left it unwound. It marked a +quarter to three, which was absurd. I took the road somewhat stiffly +and wondering. I passed several small white cottages; there was no +clock in them, and their people were away. At last in a Trattoria, as +they served me with food, a woman told me it was just after seven; I +had slept but an hour. + +Outside, the day was intense; already flies had begun to annoy the +darkened room within. Through the half-curtained door the road was +white in the sun, and the railway ran just beyond. + +I paid my reckoning, and then, partly for an amusement, I ranged my +remaining pence upon the table, first in the shape of a Maltese cross, +then in a circle (interesting details!). The road lay white in the +sunlight outside, and the railway ran just beyond. + +I counted the pence and the silver--there was three francs and a +little over; I remembered the imperial largesse at Lucca, the lordly +spending of great sums, where, now in the pocket of an obsequious man, +the pounds were taking care of themselves. I remembered how at Como I +had been compelled by poverty to enter the train for Milan. How little +was three francs for the remaining twenty-five miles to Siena! The +road lay white in the sunlight, and the railway ran just beyond. + +I remembered the pleasing cheque in the post-office of Siena; the +banks of Siena, and the money changers at their counters changing +money at the rate of change. + +'If one man,' thought I, 'may take five per cent discount on a sum of +money in the exchange, may not another man take discount off a walk of +over seven hundred miles? May he not cut off it, as his due, +twenty-five miserable little miles in the train?' Sleep coming over me +after my meal increased the temptation. Alas! how true is the great +phrase of Averroes (or it may be Boa-ed-din: anyhow, the Arabic +escapes me, but the meaning is plain enough), that when one has once +fallen, it is easy to fall again (saving always heavy falls from +cliffs and high towers, for after these there is no more falling).... +Examine the horse's knees before you buy him; take no ticket-of-leave +man into your house for charity; touch no prospectus that has +founders' shares, and do not play with firearms or knives and never go +near the water till you know how to swim. Oh! blessed wisdom of the +ages! sole patrimony of the poor! The road lay white in the sun, and +the railway ran just beyond. + +If the people of Milo did well to put up a statue in gold to the man +that invented wheels, so should we also put one up in Portland stone +or plaster to the man that invented rails, whose property it is not +only to increase the speed and ease of travel, but also to bring on +slumber as can no drug: not even poppies gathered under a waning moon. +The rails have a rhythm of slight falls and rises ... they make a loud +roar like a perpetual torrent; they cover up the mind with a veil. + +Once only, when a number of men were shouting 'POGGI-BON-SI,' like a +war-cry to the clank of bronze, did I open my eyes sleepily to see a +hill, a castle wall, many cypresses, and a strange tower bulging out +at the top (such towers I learned were the feature of Tuscany). Then +in a moment, as it seemed, I awoke in the station of Siena, where the +railway ends and goes no farther. + +It was still only morning; but the glare was beyond bearing as I +passed through the enormous gate of the town, a gate pierced in high +and stupendous walls that are here guarded by lions. In the narrow +main street there was full shade, and it was made cooler by the +contrast of the blaze on the higher storeys of the northern side. The +wonders of Siena kept sleep a moment from my mind. I saw their great +square where a tower of vast height marks the guildhall. I heard Mass +in a chapel of their cathedral: a chapel all frescoed, and built, as +it were, out of doors, and right below the altar-end or choir. I noted +how the city stood like a queen of hills dominating all Tuscany: above +the Elsa northward, southward above the province round Mount Amiato. +And this great mountain I saw also hazily far off on the horizon. I +suffered the vulgarities of the main street all in English and +American, like a show. I took my money and changed it; then, having so +passed not a full hour, and oppressed by weariness, I said to myself: + +'After all, my business is not with cities, and already I have seen +far off the great hill whence one can see far off the hills that +overhang Rome.' + +With this in my mind I wandered out for a quiet place, and found it in +a desolate green to the north of the city, near a huge, old red-brick +church like a barn. A deep shadow beneath it invited me in spite of +the scant and dusty grass, and in this country no one disturbs the +wanderer. There, lying down, I slept without dreams till evening. + +AUCTOR. Turn to page 94. + +LECTOR. I have it. It is not easy to watch the book in two places at +once; but pray continue. + +AUCTOR. Note the words from the eighth to the tenth lines. + +LECTOR. Why? + +AUCTOR. They will make what follows seem less abrupt. + +Once there was a man dining by himself at the Cafe Anglais, in the +days when people went there. It was a full night, and he sat alone at +a small table, when there entered a very big man in a large fur coat. +The big man looked round annoyed, because there was no room, and the +first man very courteously offered him a seat at his little table. +They sat down and ate and talked of several things; among others, of +Bureaucracy. The first maintained that Bureaucracy was the curse of +France. + +'Men are governed by it like sheep. The administrator, however humble, +is a despot; most people will even run forward to meet him halfway, +like the servile dogs they are,' said he. + +'No,' answered the Man in the Big Fur Coat, 'I should say men were +governed just by the ordinary human sense of authority. I have no +theories. I say they recognize authority and obey it. Whether it is +bureaucratic or not is merely a question of form.' + +At this moment there came in a tall, rather stiff Englishman. He also +was put out at finding no room. The two men saw the manager approach +him; a few words were passed, and a card; then the manager suddenly +smiled, bowed, smirked, and finally went up to the table and begged +that the Duke of Sussex might be allowed to share it. The Duke hoped +he did not incommode these gentlemen. They assured him that, on the +contrary, they esteemed his presence a favour. + +'It is our prerogative,' said the Man in the Big Fur Coat, 'to be the +host Paris entertaining her Guest.' + +They would take no denial; they insisted on the Duke's dining with +them, and they told him what they had just been discussing. The Duke +listened to their theories with some _morgue,_ much _spleen,_ and no +little _phlegm,_ but with _perfect courtesy,_ and then, towards the +coffee, told them in fluent French with a strong accent, his own +opinion. (He had had eight excellent courses; Yquem with his fish, the +best Chambertin during the dinner, and a glass of wonderful champagne +with his dessert.) He spoke as follows, with a slight and rather hard +smile: + +'My opinion may seem to you impertinent, but I believe nothing more +subtly and powerfully affects men than the aristocratic feeling. Do +not misunderstand me,' he added, seeing that they would protest; 'it +is not my own experience alone that guides me. All history bears +witness to the same truth.' + +The simple-minded Frenchmen put down this infatuation to the Duke's +early training, little knowing that our English men of rank are the +simplest fellows in the world, and are quite indifferent to their +titles save in business matters. + +The Frenchmen paid the bill, and they all three went on to the +Boulevard. + +'Now,' said the first man to his two companions, 'I will give you a +practical example of what I meant when I said that Bureaucracy +governed mankind.' + +He went up to the wall of the Credit Lyonnais, put the forefinger of +either hand against it, about twenty-five centimetres apart, and at a +level of about a foot above his eyes. Holding his fingers thus he +gazed at them, shifting them slightly from time to time and moving his +glance from one to the other rapidly. A crowd gathered. In a few +moments a pleasant elderly, short, and rather fat gentleman in the +crowd came forward, and, taking off his hat, asked if he could do +anything for him. + +'Why,' said our friend, 'the fact is I am an engineer (section D of +the Public Works Department) and I have to make an important +measurement in connexion with the Apothegm of the Bilateral which runs +to-night precisely through this spot. My fingers now mark exactly the +concentric of the secondary focus whence the Radius Vector should be +drawn, but I find that (like a fool) I have left my Double Refractor +in the cafe hard by. I dare not go for fear of losing the place I have +marked; yet I can get no further without my Double Refractor.' + +'Do not let that trouble you,' said the short, stout stranger; 'I will +be delighted to keep the place exactly marked while you run for your +instrument.' + +The crowd was now swelled to a considerable size; it blocked up the +pavement, and was swelled every moment by the arrival of the curious. +The little fat elderly man put his fingers exactly where the other's +had been, effecting the exchange with a sharp gesture; and each +watched intently to see that it was right to within a millimetre. The +attitude was constrained. The elderly man smiled, and begged the +engineer not to be alarmed. So they left him with his two forefingers +well above his head, precisely twenty-five centimetres apart, and +pressing their tips against the wall of the Credit Lyonnais. Then the +three friends slipped out of the crowd and pursued their way. + +'Let us go to the theatre,' said the experimenter, 'and when we come +back I warrant you will agree with my remarks on Bureaucracy.' + +They went to hear the admirable marble lines of Corneille. For three +hours they were absorbed by the classics, and, when they returned, a +crowd, now enormous, was surging all over the Boulevard, stopping the +traffic and filled with a noise like the sea. Policemen were attacking +it with the utmost energy, but still it grew and eddied; and in the +centre--a little respectful space kept empty around him--still +stretched the poor little fat elderly man, a pitiable sight. His knees +were bent, his head wagged and drooped with extreme fatigue, he was +the colour of old blotting-paper; but still he kept the tips of his +two forefingers exactly twenty-five centimetres apart, well above his +head, and pressed against the wall of the Credit Lyonnais. + +'You will not match that with your aristocratic sentiment!' said the +author of the scene in pardonable triumph. + +'I am not so sure,' answered the Duke of Sussex. He pulled out his +watch. 'It is midnight,' he said, 'and I must be off; but let me tell +you before we part that you have paid for a most expensive dinner, and +have behaved all night with an extravagant deference under the +impression that I was the Duke of Sussex. As a fact my name is Jerks, +and I am a commercial traveller in the linseed oil line; and I wish +you the best of good evenings.' + +'Wait a moment,' said the Man in the Big Fur Coat; 'my theory of the +Simple Human Sense of Authority still holds. I am a detective officer, +and you will both be good enough to follow me to the police station.' + +And so they did, and the Engineer was fined fifty francs in +correctional, and the Duke of Sussex was imprisoned for ten days, with +interdiction of domicile for six months; the first indeed under the +Prefectorial Decree of the 18th of November 1843, but the second under +the law of the 12th germinal of the year VIII. + +In this way I have got over between twenty and thirty miles of road +which were tramped in the dark, and the description of which would +have plagued you worse than a swarm of hornets. + +Oh, blessed interlude! no struggling moon, no mist, no long-winded +passages upon the genial earth, no the sense of the night, no marvels +of the dawn, no rhodomontade, no religion, no rhetoric, no sleeping +villages, no silent towns (there was one), no rustle of trees--just a +short story, and there you have a whole march covered as though a +brigade had swung down it. A new day has come, and the sun has risen +over the detestable parched hillocks of this downward way. + +No, no, Lector! Do not blame me that Tuscany should have passed +beneath me unnoticed, as the monotonous sea passes beneath a boat in +full sail. Blame all those days of marching; hundreds upon hundreds of +miles that exhausted the powers of the mind. Blame the fiery and angry +sky of Etruria, that compelled most of my way to be taken at night. +Blame St Augustine, who misled me in his Confessions by talking like +an African of 'the icy shores of Italy'; or blame Rome, that now more +and more drew me to Herself as She approached from six to five, from +five to four, from four to three--now She was but _three_ days off. +The third sun after that I now saw rising would shine upon the City. + +I did indeed go forward a little in the heat, but it was useless. +After an hour I abandoned it. It was not so much the sun, though that +was intemperate and deadly; it was rather the inhuman aspect of the +earth which made me despair. It was as though the soil had been left +imperfect and rough after some cataclysm; it reminded me of those bad +lands in the west of America, where the desert has no form, and where +the crumbling and ashy look of things is more abhorrent than their +mere desolation. As soon march through evil dreams! + +The north is the place for men. Eden was there; and the four rivers of +Paradise are the Seine, the Oise, the Thames, and the Arun; there are +grasses there, and the trees are generous, and the air is an unnoticed +pleasure. The waters brim up to the edges of the fields. But for this +bare Tuscany I was never made. + +How far I had gone I could not tell, nor precisely how much farther +San Quirico, the neighbouring town, might be. The imperfect map I had +bought at Siena was too minute to give me clear indications. I was +content to wait for evening, and then to go on till I found it. An +hour or so in the shade of a row of parched and dusty bushes I lay and +ate and drank my wine, and smoked, and then all day I slept, and woke +a while, and slept again more deeply. But how people sleep and wake, +if you do not yet know it after so much of this book you never will. + +It was perhaps five o'clock, or rather more, when I rose unhappily and +took up the ceaseless road. + +Even the goodness of the Italian nature seemed parched up in those dry +hollows. At an inn where I ate they shouted at me, thinking in that +way to make me understand; and their voices were as harsh as the +grating of metal against stone. A mile farther I crossed a lonely line +of railway; then my map told me where I was, and I went wearily up an +indefinite slope under the declining sun, and thought it outrageous +that only when the light had gone was there any tolerable air in this +country. + +Soon the walls of San Quirico, partly ruinous, stood above the fields +(for the smallest places here have walls); as I entered its gate the +sun set, and as though the cool, coming suddenly, had a magic in it, +everything turned kinder. A church that could wake interest stood at +the entry of the town; it had stone lions on its steps, and the +pillars were so carved as to resemble knotted ropes. There for the +first time I saw in procession one of those confraternities which in +Italy bury the dead; they had long and dreadful hoods over their +heads, with slits for the eyes. I spoke to the people of San Quirico, +and they to me. They were upstanding, and very fine and noble in the +lines of the face. On their walls is set a marble tablet, on which it +is registered that the people of Tuscany, being asked whether they +would have their hereditary Duke or the House of Savoy, voted for the +latter by such and such a great majority; and this kind of tablet I +afterwards found was common to all these small towns. Then passing +down their long street I came, at the farther gate, to a great sight, +which the twilight still permitted me to receive in its entirety. + +For San Quirico is built on the edge of a kind of swell in the land, +and here where I stood one looked over the next great wave; for the +shape of the view was, on a vast scale, just what one sees from a +lonely boat looking forward over a following sea. + +The trough of the wave was a shallow purple valley, its arid quality +hidden by the kindly glimmer of evening; few trees stood in it to +break its sweep, and its irregularities and mouldings were just those +of a sweep of water after a gale. The crest of the wave beyond was +seventeen miles away. It had, as have also such crests at sea, one +highest, toppling peak in its long line, and this, against the clear +sky, one could see to be marked by buildings. These buildings were the +ruined castle and walls of Radicofani, and it lay straight on my way +to Rome. + +It is a strange thing, arresting northern eyes, to see towns thus +built on summits up into the sky, and this height seemed the more +fantastic because it was framed. A row of cypress trees stood on +either side of the road where it fell from San Quirico, and, exactly +between these, this high crest, a long way off, was set as though by +design. + +With more heart in me, and tempted by such an outline as one might be +by the prospect of adventure, I set out to cross the great bare run of +the valley. As I went, the mountain of Amiato came more and more +nearly abreast of me in the west; in its foothills near me were +ravines and unexpected rocks; upon one of them hung a village. I +watched its church and one tall cypress next it, as they stood black +against the last of daylight. Then for miles I went on the dusty way, +and crossed by old bridges watercourses in which stood nothing but +green pools; and the night deepened. + +It was when I had crossed the greater part of the obscure plain, at +its lowest dip and not far from the climb up to Radicofani, that I saw +lights shining in a large farmhouse, and though it was my business to +walk by night, yet I needed companionship, so I went in. + +There in a very large room, floored with brick and lit by one candle, +were two fine old peasants, with faces like apostles, playing a game +of cards. There also was a woman playing with a strong boy child, +that could not yet talk: and the child ran up to me. Nothing could +persuade the master of the house but that I was a very poor man who +needed sleep, and so good and generous was this old man that my +protests seemed to him nothing but the excuses and shame of poverty. +He asked me where I was going. I said, 'To Rome.' He came out with a +lantern to the stable, and showed me there a manger full of hay, +indicating that I might sleep in it... His candle flashed upon the +great silent oxen standing in rows; their enormous horns, three times +the length of what we know in England, filled me with wonder ... Well! +(may it count to me as gain!), rather than seem to offend him I lay +down in that manger, though I had no more desire to sleep than has the +flittermouse in our Sussex gloamings; also I was careful to offer no +money, for that is brutality. When he had left me I took the +opportunity for a little rest, and lay on my back in the hay +wide-awake and staring at darkness. + +The great oxen champed and champed their food with a regular sound; I +remembered the steerage in a liner, the noise of the sea and the +regular screw, for this it exactly resembled. I considered in the +darkness the noble aspect of these beasts as I had seen them in the +lantern light, and I determined when I got to Rome to buy two such +horns, and to bring them to England and have them mounted for drinking +horns--great drinking horns, a yard deep--and to get an engraver to +engrave a motto for each. On the first I would have-- + + King Alfred was in Wantage born + He drank out of a ram's horn. + Here is a better man than he, + Who drinks deeper, as you see. + +Thus my friends drinking out of it should lift up their hearts and no +longer be oppressed with humility. But on the second I determined for +a rousing Latin thing, such as men shouted round camp fires in the +year 888 or thereabouts; so, the imagination fairly set going and +taking wood-cock's flight, snipe-fashion, zigzag and devil-may-care- +for-the-rules, this seemed to suit me-- + + _Salve, cornu cornuum! + Cornutorum vis Boûm. + Munus excellent Deûm! + Gregis o praesidium! + Sitis desiderium! + Dignum cornuum cornu + Romae memor salve tu! + Tibi cornuum cornuto--_ + +LECTOR. That means nothing. + +AUCTOR. Shut up! + + _Tibi cornuum cornuto + Tibi clamo, te saluto + Salve cornu cornuum! + Fortunatam da Domunt!_ + +And after this cogitation and musing I got up quietly, so as not to +offend the peasant: and I crept out, and so upwards on to the crest of +the hill. + +But when, after several miles of climbing, I neared the summit, it was +already beginning to be light. The bareness and desert grey of the +distance I had crossed stood revealed in a colourless dawn, only the +Mont' Amiata, now somewhat to the northward, was more gentle, and +softened the scene with distant woods. Between it and this height ran +a vague river-bed as dry as the stones of a salt beach. + +The sun rose as I passed under the ruined walls of the castle. In the +little town itself, early as was the hour, many people were stirring. +One gave me good-morning--a man of singular character, for here, in +the very peep of day, he was sitting on a doorstep, idle, lazy and +contented, as though it was full noon. Another was yoking oxen; a +third going out singing to work in the fields. + +I did not linger in this crow's nest, but going out by the low and +aged southern gate, another deeper valley, even drier and more dead +than the last, appeared under the rising sun. It was enough to make +one despair! And when I thought of the day's sleep in that wilderness, +of the next night's toil through it-- + +LECTOR. What about the Brigand of Radicofani of whom you spoke in +Lorraine, and of whom I am waiting to hear? + +AUCTOR. What about him? Why, he was captured long ago, and has since +died of old age. I am surprised at your interrupting me with such +questions. Pray ask for no more tales till we get to the really +absorbing story of the Hungry Student. + +Well, as I was saying, I was in some despair at the sight of that +valley, which had to be crossed before I could reach the town of +Acquapendente, or Hanging-water, which I knew to lie somewhere on the +hills beyond. The sun was conquering me, and I was looking hopelessly +for a place to sleep, when a cart drawn by two oxen at about one mile +an hour came creaking by. The driver was asleep, his head on the shady +side. The devil tempted me, and without one struggle against +temptation, nay with cynical and congratulatory feelings, I jumped up +behind, and putting my head also on the shady side (there were soft +sacks for a bed) I very soon was pleasantly asleep. + +We lay side by side for hour after hour, and the day rose on to noon; +the sun beat upon our feet, but our heads were in the shade and we +slept heavily a good and honest sleep: he thinking that he was alone, +but I knowing that I was in company (a far preferable thing), and I +was right and he was wrong. And the heat grew, and sleep came out of +that hot sun more surely than it does out of the night air in the +north. But no dreams wander under the noon. + +From time to time one or the other of us would open our eyes drowsily +and wonder, but sleep was heavy on us both, and our minds were sunk in +calm like old hulls in the dark depths of the sea where there are no +storms. + +We neither of us really woke until, at the bottom of the hill which +rises into Acquapendente, the oxen stopped. This halt woke us up; +first me and then my companion. He looked at me a moment and laughed. +He seemed to have thought all this while that I was some country +friend of his who had taken a lift; and I, for my part, had made more +or less certain that he was a good fellow who would do me no harm. I +was right, and he was wrong. I knew not what offering to make him to +compensate him for this trouble which his heavy oxen had taken. After +some thought I brought a cigar out of my pocket, which he smoked with +extreme pleasure. The oxen meanwhile had been urged up the slow hill, +and it was in this way that we reached the famous town of +Acquapendente. But why it should be called famous is more than I can +understand. It may be that in one of those narrow streets there is a +picture or a church, or one of those things which so attract +unbelieving men. To the pilgrim it is simply a group of houses. Into +one of these I went, and, upon my soul, I have nothing to say of it +except that they furnished me with food. + +I do not pretend to have counted the flies, though they were numerous; +and, even had I done so, what interest would the number have, save to +the statisticians? Now as these are patient men and foolish, I +heartily recommend them to go and count the flies for themselves. + +Leaving this meal then, this town and this people (which were all of a +humdrum sort), and going out by the gate, the left side of which is +made up of a church, I went a little way on the short road to San +Lorenzo, but I had no intention of going far, for (as you know by this +time) the night had become my day and the day my night. + +I found a stream running very sluggish between tall trees, and this +sight sufficiently reminded me of my own country to permit repose. +Lying down there I slept till the end of the day, or rather to that +same time of evening which had now become my usual waking hour ... And +now tell me, Lector, shall I leave out altogether, or shall I give you +some description of, the next few miles to San Lorenzo? + +LECTOR. Why, if I were you I would put the matter shortly and simply, +for it is the business of one describing a pilgrimage or any other +matter not to puff himself up with vain conceit, nor to be always +picking about for picturesque situations, but to set down plainly and +shortly what he has seen and heard, describing the whole matter. + +AUCTOR. But remember, Lector, that the artist is known not only by +what he puts in but by what he leaves out. + +LECTOR. That is all very well for the artist, but you have no business +to meddle with such people. + +AUCTOR. How then would you write such a book if you had the writing of +it? + +LECTOR. I would not introduce myself at all; I would not tell stories +at random, nor go in for long descriptions of emotions, which I am +sure other men have felt as well as I. I would be careful to visit +those things my readers had already heard of (AUCTOR. The pictures! +the remarkable pictures! All that is meant by culture! The brown +photographs! Oh! Lector, indeed I have done you a wrong!), and I would +certainly not have the bad taste to say anything upon religion. Above +all, I would be terse. + +AUCTOR. I see. You would not pile words one on the other, qualifying, +exaggerating, conditioning, superlativing, diminishing, connecting, +amplifying, condensing, mouthing, and glorifying the mere sound: you +would be terse. You should be known for your self-restraint. There +should be no verbosity in your style (God forbid!), still less +pomposity, animosity, curiosity, or ferocity; you would have it neat, +exact, and scholarly, and, above all, chiselled to the nail. A fig +(say you), the pip of a fig, for the rambling style. You would be led +into no hilarity, charity, vulgarity, or barbarity. Eh! my jolly +Lector? You would simply say what you had to say? + +LECTOR. Precisely; I would say a plain thing in a plain way. + +AUCTOR. So you think one can say a plain thing in a plain way? You +think that words mean nothing more than themselves, and that you can +talk without ellipsis, and that customary phrases have not their +connotations? You think that, do you? Listen then to the tale of Mr +Benjamin Franklin Hard, a kindly merchant of Cincinnati, O., who had +no particular religion, but who had accumulated a fortune of six +hundred thousand dollars, and who had a horror of breaking the +Sabbath. He was not 'a kind husband and a good father,' for he was +unmarried; nor had he any children. But he was all that those words +connote. + +This man Hard at the age of fifty-four retired from business, and +determined to treat himself to a visit to Europe. He had not been in +Europe five weeks before he ran bang up against the Catholic Church. +He was never more surprised in his life. I do not mean that I have +exactly weighed all his surprises all his life through. I mean that he +was very much surprised indeed--and that is all that these words +connote. + +He studied the Catholic Church with extreme interest. He watched High +Mass at several places (hoping it might be different). He thought it +was what it was not, and then, contrariwise, he thought it was not +what it was. He talked to poor Catholics, rich Catholics, middle-class +Catholics, and elusive, wellborn, penniless, neatly dressed, +successful Catholics; also to pompous, vain Catholics; humble, +uncertain Catholics; sneaking, pad-footed Catholics; healthy, howling, +combative Catholics; doubtful, shoulder-shrugging, but devout +Catholics; fixed, crabbed, and dangerous Catholics; easy, jovial, and +shone-upon-by-the-heavenly-light Catholics; subtle Catholics; strange +Catholics, and _(quod tibi manifeste absurdum videtur)_ intellectual, +_pince-nez,_ jejune, twisted, analytical, yellow, cranky, and +introspective Catholics: in fine, he talked to all Catholics. And +when I say 'all Catholics' I do not mean that he talked to every +individual Catholic, but that he got a good, integrative grip of the +Church militant, which is all that the words connote. + +Well, this man Hard got to know, among others, a certain good priest +that loved a good bottle of wine, a fine deep dish of_ poulet à la +casserole, _and a kind of egg done with cream in a little platter; and +eating such things, this priest said to him one day: 'Mr Hard, what +you want is to read some books on Catholicism.' And Hard, who was on +the point of being received into the Church as the final solution of +human difficulties, thought it would be a very good thing to instruct +his mind before baptism. So he gave the priest a note to a bookseller +whom an American friend had told him of; and this American friend had +said: + +'You will find Mr Fingle (for such was the bookseller's name) a +hard-headed, honest, business man. He can say a _plain thing in a +plain way.'_ + +'Here,' said Mr Hard to the priest, 'is ten pounds. Send it to this +bookseller Fingle and he shall choose books on Catholicism to that +amount, and you shall receive them, and I will come and read them here +with you.' + +So the priest sent the money, and in four days the books came, and Mr +Hard and the priest opened the package, and these were the books +inside: + +_Auricular Confession:_ a History. By a Brand Saved from the Burning. + +_Isabella; or, The Little Female Jesuit._ By 'Hephzibah'. + +_Elisha MacNab:_ a Tale of the French Huguenots. + +_England and Rome._ By the Rev. Ebenezer Catchpole of Emmanuel, +Birmingham. + +_Nuns and Nunneries._ By 'Ruth', with a Preface by Miss Carran, lately +rescued from a Canadian Convent. + +_History of the Inquisition._ By Llorente. + +_The Beast with Seven Heads; or, the Apocalyptical Warning._ + +_No Truce with the Vatican._ + +_The True Cause of Irish Disaffection._ + +_Decline of the Latin Nations._ + +_Anglo-Saxons the Chosen Race,_ and their connexion with the Ten Lost +Tribes: with a map. + +Finally, a very large book at the bottom of the case called _Giant +Pope._ + +And it was no use asking for the money back or protesting. Mr Fingle +was an honest, straightforward man, who said a plain thing in a plain +way. They had left him to choose a suitable collection of books on +Catholicism, and he had chosen the best he knew. And thus did Mr Hard +(who has recently given a hideous font to the new Catholic church at +Bismarckville) learn the importance of estimating what words connote. + +LECTOR. But all that does not excuse an intolerable prolixity? + +AUCTOR. Neither did I say it did, dear Lector. My object was merely to +get you to San Lorenzo where I bought that wine, and where, going out +of the gate on the south, I saw suddenly the wide lake of Bolsena all +below. + +It is a great sheet like a sea; but as one knows one is on a high +plateau, and as there is but a short dip down to it; as it is round +and has all about it a rim of low even hills, therefore one knows it +for an old and gigantic crater now full of pure water; and there are +islands in it and palaces on the islands. Indeed it was an impression +of silence and recollection, for the water lay all upturned to heaven, +and, in the sky above me, the moon at her quarter hung still pale in +the daylight, waiting for glory. + +I sat on the coping of a wall, drank a little of my wine, ate a little +bread and sausage; but still song demanded some outlet in the cool +evening, and companionship was more of an appetite in me than +landscape. Please God, I had become southern and took beauty for +granted. + +Anyhow, seeing a little two-wheeled cart come through the gate, +harnessed to a ramshackle little pony, bony and hard, and driven by a +little, brown, smiling, and contented old fellow with black hair, I +made a sign to him and he stopped. + +This time there was no temptation of the devil; if anything the +advance was from my side. I was determined to ride, and I sprang up +beside the driver. We raced down the hill, clattering and banging and +rattling like a piece of ordnance, and he, my brother, unasked began +to sing. I sang in turn. He sang of Italy, I of four countries: +America, France, England, and Ireland. I could not understand his +songs nor he mine, but there was wine in common between us, and +_salami_ and a merry heart, bread which is the bond of all mankind, +and that prime solution of ill-ease--I mean the forgetfulness of +money. + +That was a good drive, an honest drive, a human aspiring drive, a +drive of Christians, a glorifying and uplifted drive, a drive worthy +of remembrance for ever. The moon has shone on but few like it though +she is old; the lake of Bolsena has glittered beneath none like it +since the Etruscans here unbended after the solemnities of a triumph. +It broke my vow to pieces; there was not a shadow of excuse for this +use of wheels: it was done openly and wantonly in the face of the wide +sky for pleasure. And what is there else but pleasure, and to what +else does beauty move on? Not I hope to contemplation! A hideous +oriental trick! No, but to loud notes and comradeship and the riot of +galloping, and laughter ringing through old trees. Who would change +(says Aristippus of Pslinthon) the moon and all the stars for so much +wine as can be held in the cup of a bottle upturned? The honest man! +And in his time (note you) they did not make the devilish deep and +fraudulent bottoms they do now that cheat you of half your liquor. + +Moreover if I broke my vows (which is a serious matter), and if I +neglected to contemplate the heavens (for which neglect I will confess +to no one, not even to a postulate sub-deacon; it is no sin; it is a +healthy omission), if (I say) I did this, I did what peasants do. And +what is more, by drinking wine and eating pig we proved ourselves no +Mohammedans; and on such as he is sure of, St Peter looks with a +kindly eye. + +Now, just at the very entry to Bolsena, when we had followed the +lovely lake some time, my driver halted and began to turn up a lane to +a farm or villa; so I, bidding him good-night, crossed a field and +stood silent by the lake and watched for a long time the water +breaking on a tiny shore, and the pretty miniatures of waves. I stood +there till the stars came out and the moon shone fully; then I went +towards Bolsena under its high gate which showed in the darkness, and +under its castle on the rock. There, in a large room which was not +quite an inn, a woman of great age and dignity served me with fried +fish from the lake, and the men gathered round me and attempted to +tell me of the road to Rome, while I in exchange made out to them as +much by gestures as by broken words the crossing of the Alps and the +Apennines. + +Then, after my meal, one of the men told me I needed sleep; that there +were no rooms in that house (as I said, it was not an inn), but that +across the way he would show me one he had for hire. I tried to say +that my plan was to walk by night. They all assured me he would charge +me a reasonable sum. I insisted that the day was too hot for walking. +They told me, did these Etruscans, that I need fear no extortion from +so honest a man. + +Certainly it is not easy to make everybody understand everything, and +I had had experience already up in the mountains, days before, of how +important it is not to be misunderstood when one is wandering in a +foreign country, poor and ill-clad. I therefore accepted the offer, +and, what was really very much to my regret, I paid the money he +demanded. I even so far fell in with the spirit of the thing as to +sleep a certain number of hours (for after all, my sleep that day in +the cart had been very broken, and instead of resting throughout the +whole of the heat I had taken a meal at Acquapendente). But I woke up +not long after midnight--perhaps between one and two o'clock--and went +out along the borders of the lake. + +The moon had set; I wish I could have seen her hanging at the quarter +in the clear sky of that high crater, dipping into the rim of its +inland sea. It was perceptibly cold. I went on the road quite slowly, +till it began to climb, and when the day broke I found myself in a +sunken lane leading up to the town of Montefiascone. + +The town lay on its hill in the pale but growing light. A great dome +gave it dignity, and a castle overlooked the lake. It was built upon +the very edge and lip of the volcano-cup commanding either side. + +I climbed up this sunken lane towards it, not knowing what might be +beyond, when, at the crest, there shone before me in the sunrise one +of those unexpected and united landscapes which are among the glories +of Italy. They have changed the very mind in a hundred northern +painters, when men travelled hither to Rome to learn their art, and +coming in by her mountain roads saw, time and again, the set views of +plains like gardens, surrounded by sharp mountain-land and framed. + +The road did not pass through the town; the grand though crumbling +gate of entry lay up a short straight way to the right, and below, +where the road continued down the slope, was a level of some eight +miles full of trees diminishing in distance. At its further side an +ample mountain, wooded, of gentle flattened outline, but high and +majestic, barred the way to Rome. It was yet another of those +volcanoes, fruitful after death, which are the mark of Latium: and it +held hidden, as did that larger and more confused one on the rim of +which I stood, a lake in its silent crater. But that lake, as I was to +find, was far smaller than the glittering sea of Bolsena, whose shores +now lay behind me. + +The distance and the hill that bounded it should in that climate have +stood clear in the pure air, but it was yet so early that a thin haze +hung over the earth, and the sun had not yet controlled it: it was +even chilly. I could not catch the towers of Viterbo, though I knew +them to stand at the foot of the far mountain. I went down the road, +and in half-an-hour or so was engaged upon the straight line crossing +the plain. + +I wondered a little how the road would lie with regard to the town, +and looked at my map for guidance, but it told me little. It was too +general, taking in all central Italy, and even large places were +marked only by small circles. + +When I approached Viterbo I first saw an astonishing wall, +perpendicular to my road, untouched, the bones of the Middle Ages. It +stood up straight before one like a range of cliffs, seeming much +higher than it should; its hundred feet or so were exaggerated by the +severity of its stones and by their sheer fall. For they had no +ornament whatever, and few marks of decay, though many of age. Tall +towers, exactly square and equally bare of carving or machicolation, +stood at intervals along this forbidding defence and flanked its +curtain. Then nearer by, one saw that it was not a huge castle, but +the wall of a city, for at a corner it went sharp round to contain the +town, and through one uneven place I saw houses. Many men were walking +in the roads alongside these walls, and there were gates pierced in +them whereby the citizens went in and out of the city as bees go in +and out of the little opening in a hive. + +But my main road to Rome did not go through Viterbo, it ran alongside +of the eastern wall, and I debated a little with myself whether I +would go in or no. It was out of my way, and I had not entered +Montefiascone for that reason. On the other hand, Viterbo was a famous +place. It is all very well to neglect Florence and Pisa because they +are some miles off the straight way, but Viterbo right under one's +hand it is a pity to miss. Then I needed wine and food for the later +day in the mountain. Yet, again, it was getting hot. It was past +eight, the mist had long ago receded, and I feared delay. So I mused +on the white road under the tall towers and dead walls of Viterbo, and +ruminated on an unimportant thing. Then curiosity did what reason +could not do, and I entered by a gate. + +The streets were narrow, tortuous, and alive, all shaded by the great +houses, and still full of the cold of the night. The noise of +fountains echoed in them, and the high voices of women and the cries +of sellers. Every house had in it something fantastic and peculiar; +humanity had twined into this place like a natural growth, and the +separate thoughts of men, both those that were alive there and those +dead before them, had decorated it all. There were courtyards with +blinding whites of sunlit walls above, themselves in shadow; and there +were many carvings and paintings over doors. I had come into a great +living place after the loneliness of the road. + +There, in the first wide street I could find, I bought sausage and +bread and a great bottle of wine, and then quitting Viterbo, I left it +by the same gate and took the road. + +For a long while yet I continued under the walls, noting in one place +a thing peculiar to the Middle Ages, I mean the apse of a church built +right into the wall as the old Cathedral of St Stephen's was in Paris. +These, I suppose, enemies respected if they could; for I have noticed +also that in castles the chapel is not hidden, but stands out from the +wall. So be it. Your fathers and mine were there in the fighting, but +we do not know their names, and I trust and hope yours spared the +altars as carefully as mine did. + +The road began to climb the hill, and though the heat increased--for +in Italy long before nine it is glaring noon to us northerners (and +that reminds me: your fathers and mine, to whom allusion has been made +above {as they say in the dull history books--[LECTOR. How many more +interior brackets are we to have? Is this algebra? AUCTOR. You +yourself, Lector, are responsible for the worst.]} your fathers and +mine coming down into this country to fight, as was their annual +custom, must have had a plaguy time of it, when you think that they +could not get across the Alps till summer-time, and then had to hack +and hew, and thrust and dig, and slash and climb, and charge and puff, +and blow and swear, and parry and receive, and aim and dodge, and butt +and run for their lives at the end, under an unaccustomed sun. No +wonder they saw visions, the dear people! They are dead now, and we do +not even know their names.)--Where was I? + +LECTOR. You were at the uninteresting remark that the heat was +increasing. + +AUCTOR. Precisely. I remember. Well, the heat was increasing, but it +seemed far more bearable than it had been in the earlier places; in +the oven of the Garfagnana or in the deserts of Siena. For with the +first slopes of the mountain a forest of great chestnut trees +appeared, and it was so cool under these that there was even moss, as +though I were back again in my own country where there are full rivers +in summer-time, deep meadows, and all the completion of home. + +Also the height may have begun to tell on the air, but not much, for +when the forest was behind me, and when I had come to a bare heath +sloping more gently upwards--a glacis in front of the topmost bulwark +of the round mountain--- I was oppressed with thirst, and though it +was not too hot to sing (for I sang, and two lonely carabinieri passed +me singing, and we recognized as we saluted each other that the +mountain was full of songs), yet I longed for a bench, a flagon, and +shade. + +And as I longed, a little house appeared, and a woman in the shade +sewing, and an old man. Also a bench and a table, and a tree over it. +There I sat down and drank white wine and water many times. The woman +charged me a halfpenny, and the old man would not talk. He did not +take his old age garrulously. It was his business, not mine; but I +should dearly have liked to have talked to him in Lingua Franca, and +to have heard him on the story of his mountain: where it was haunted, +by what, and on which nights it was dangerous to be abroad. Such as it +was, there it was. I left them, and shall perhaps never see them +again. + +The road was interminable, and the crest, from which I promised myself +the view of the crater-lake, was always just before me, and was never +reached. A little spring, caught in a hollow log, refreshed a meadow +on the right. Drinking there again, I wondered if I should go on or +rest; but I was full of antiquity, and a memory in the blood, or what +not, impelled me to see the lake in the crater before I went to sleep: +after a few hundred yards this obsession was satisfied. + +I passed between two banks, where the road had been worn down at the +crest of the volcano's rim; then at once, far below, in a circle of +silent trees with here and there a vague shore of marshy land, I saw +the Pond of Venus: some miles of brooding water, darkened by the dark +slopes around it. Its darkness recalled the dark time before the dawn +of our saved and happy world. + +At its hither end a hill, that had once been a cone in the crater, +stood out all covered with a dense wood. It was the Hill of Venus. + +There was no temple, nor no sacrifice, nor no ritual for the Divinity, +save this solemn attitude of perennial silence; but under the +influence which still remained and gave the place its savour, it was +impossible to believe that the gods were dead. There were no men in +that hollow; nor was there any memory of men, save of men dead these +thousands of years. There was no life of visible things. The mind +released itself and was in touch with whatever survives of conquered +but immortal Spirits. + +Thus ready for worship, and in a mood of adoration; filled also with +the genius which inhabits its native place and is too subtle or too +pure to suffer the effect of time, I passed down the ridge-way of the +mountain rim, and came to the edge overlooking that arena whereon was +first fought out and decided the chief destiny of the world. + +For all below was the Campagna. Names that are at the origin of things +attached to every cleft and distant rock beyond the spreading level, +or sanctified the gleams of rivers. There below me was Veii; beyond, +in the Wall of the Apennines, only just escaped from clouds, was Tibur +that dignified the ravine at the edge of their rising; that crest to +the right was Tusculum, and far to the south, but clear, on a mountain +answering my own, was the mother of the City, Alba Longa. The Tiber, a +dense, brown fog rolling over and concealing it, was the god of the +wide plain. + +There and at that moment I should have seen the City. I stood up on +the bank and shaded my eyes, straining to catch the dome at least in +the sunlight; but I could not, for Rome was hidden by the low Sabinian +hills. + +Soracte I saw there--Soracte, of which I had read as a boy. It stood +up like an acropolis, but it was a citadel for no city. It stood +alone, like that soul which once haunted its recesses and prophesied +the conquering advent of the northern kings. I saw the fields where +the tribes had lived that were the first enemies of the imperfect +state, before it gave its name to the fortunes of the Latin race. + +Dark Etruria lay behind me, forgotten in the backward of my march: a +furnace and a riddle out of which religion came to the Romans--a place +that has left no language. But below me, sunlit and easy (as it seemed +in the cooler air of that summit), was the arena upon which were first +fought out the chief destinies of the world. + +And I still looked down upon it, wondering. + +Was it in so small a space that all the legends of one's childhood +were acted? Was the defence of the bridge against so neighbouring and +petty an alliance? Were they peasants of a group of huts that handed +down the great inheritance of discipline, and made an iron channel +whereby, even to us, the antique virtues could descend as a living +memory? It must be so; for the villages and ruins in one landscape +comprised all the first generations of the history of Rome. The stones +we admire, the large spirit of the last expression came from that +rough village and sprang from the broils of that one plain; Rome was +most vigorous before it could speak. So a man's verse, and all he has, +are but the last outward appearance, late and already rigid, of an +earlier, more plastic, and diviner fire. + +'Upon this arena,' I still said to myself, 'were first fought out the +chief destinies of the world'; and so, played upon by an unending +theme, I ate and drank in a reverie, still wondering, and then lay +down beneath the shade of a little tree that stood alone upon that +edge of a new world. And wondering, I fell asleep under the morning +sun. + +But this sleep was not like the earlier oblivions that had refreshed +my ceaseless journey, for I still dreamt as I slept of what I was to +see, and visions of action without thought--pageants and +mysteries--surrounded my spirit; and across the darkness of a mind +remote from the senses there passed whatever is wrapped up in the +great name of Rome. + +When I woke the evening had come. A haze had gathered upon the plain. +The road fell into Ronciglione, and dreams surrounded it upon every +side. For the energy of the body those hours of rest had made a fresh +and enduring vigour; for the soul no rest was needed. It had attained, +at least for the next hour, a vigour that demanded only the physical +capacity of endurance; an eagerness worthy of such great occasions +found a marching vigour for its servant. + +In Ronciglione I saw the things that Turner drew; I mean the rocks +from which a river springs, and houses all massed together, giving the +steep a kind of crown. This also accompanied that picture, the soft +light which mourns the sun and lends half-colours to the world. It was +cool, and the opportunity beckoned. I ate and drank, asking every one +questions of Rome, and I passed under their great gate and pursued the +road to the plain. In the mist, as it rose, there rose also a passion +to achieve. + +All the night long, mile after mile, I hurried along the Cassian Way. +For five days I had slept through the heat, and the southern night had +become my daytime; and though the mist was dense, and though the moon, +now past her quarter, only made a vague place in heaven, yet +expectation and fancy took more than the place of sight. In this fog I +felt with every step of the night march the approach to the goal. + +Long past the place I had marked as a halt, long past Sette Vene, a +light blurred upon the white wreaths of vapour; distant songs and the +noise of men feasting ended what had been for many, many hours--for +more than twenty miles of pressing forward--an exaltation worthy of +the influence that bred it. Then came on me again, after the full +march, a necessity for food and for repose. But these things, which +have been the matter of so much in this book, now seemed subservient +only to the reaching of an end; they were left aside in the mind. + +It was an inn with trellis outside making an arbour. In the yard +before it many peasants sat at table; their beasts and waggons stood +in the roadway, though, at this late hour, men were feeding some and +housing others. Within, fifty men or more were making a meal or a +carousal. + +What feast or what necessity of travel made them keep the night alive +I neither knew nor asked; but passing almost unobserved amongst them +between the long tables, I took my place at the end, and the master +served me with good food and wine. As I ate the clamour of the +peasants sounded about me, and I mixed with the energy of numbers. + +With a little difficulty I made the master understand that I wished to +sleep till dawn. He led me out to a small granary (for the house was +full), and showed me where I should sleep in the scented hay. He would +take no money for such a lodging, and left me after showing me how the +door latched and unfastened; and out of so many men, he was the last +man whom I thanked for a service until I passed the gates of Rome. + +Above the soft bed which the hay made, a square window, unglazed, gave +upon the southern night; the mist hardly drifted in or past it, so +still was the air. I watched it for a while drowsily; then sleep again +fell on me. + +But as I slept, Rome, Rome still beckoned me, and I woke in a +struggling light as though at a voice calling, and slipping out I +could not but go on to the end. + +The small square paving of the Via Cassia, all even like a palace +floor, rang under my steps. The parched banks and strips of dry fields +showed through the fog (for its dampness did not cure the arid soil of +the Campagna). The sun rose and the vapour lifted. Then, indeed, I +peered through the thick air--but still I could see nothing of my +goal, only confused folds of brown earth and burnt-up grasses, and +farther off rare and un-northern trees. + +I passed an old tower of the Middle Ages that was eaten away at its +base by time or the quarrying of men; I passed a divergent way on the +right where a wooden sign said 'The Triumphal Way', and I wondered +whether it could be the road where ritual had once ordained that +triumphs should go. It seemed lonely and lost, and divorced from any +approach to sacred hills. + +The road fell into a hollow where soldiers were manoeuvring. Even +these could not arrest an attention that was fixed upon the +approaching revelation. The road climbed a little slope where a branch +went off to the left, and where there was a house and an arbour under +vines. It was now warm day; trees of great height stood shading the +sun; the place had taken on an appearance of wealth and care. The mist +had gone before I reached the summit of the rise. + +There, from the summit, between the high villa walls on either +side--at my very feet I saw the City. + +And now all you people whatsoever that are presently reading, may have +read, or shall in the future read, this my many-sided but now-ending +book; all you also that in the mysterious designs of Providence may +not be fated to read it for some very long time to come; you then I +say, entire, englobed, and universal race of men both in gross and +regardant, not only living and seeing the sunlight, but dead also +under the earth; shades, or to come in procession afterwards out of +the dark places into the day for a little, swarms of you, an army +without end; all you black and white, red, yellow and brown, men, +women, children and poets--all of you, wherever you are now, or have +been, or shall be in your myriads and deka myriads and hendeka +myriads, the time has come when I must bid you farewell-- + + _Ludisti satis, edisti satis, atque bibisti; + Tempus abire tibi est...._ + +Only Lector I keep by me for a very little while longer with a special +purpose, but even he must soon leave me; for all good things come to +an end, and this book is coming to an end--has come to an end. The +leaves fall, and they are renewed; the sun sets on the Vexin hills, +but he rises again over the woods of Marly. Human companionship once +broken can never be restored, and you and I shall not meet or +understand each other again. It is so of all the poor links whereby we +try to bridge the impassable gulf between soul and soul. Oh! we spin +something, I know, but it is very gossamer, thin and strained, and +even if it does not snap time will at last dissolve it. + +Indeed, there is a song on it which you should know, and which runs-- + +[Bar of music] + +So my little human race, both you that have read this book and you +that have not, good-bye in charity. I loved you all as I wrote. Did +you all love me as much as I have loved you, by the black stone of +Rennes I should be rich by now. Indeed, indeed, I have loved you all! +You, the workers, all puffed up and dyspeptic and ready for the +asylums; and you, the good-for-nothing lazy drones; you, the strong +silent men, who have heads quite empty, like gourds; and you also, the +frivolous, useless men that chatter and gabble to no purpose all day +long. Even you, that, having begun to read this book, could get no +further than page 47, and especially you who have read it manfully in +spite of the flesh, I love you all, and give you here and now my +final, complete, full, absolving, and comfortable benediction. + +To tell the truth, I have noticed one little fault about you. I will +not call it fatuous, inane, and exasperating vanity or self- +absorption; I will put it in the form of a parable. Sit you round +attentively and listen, dispersing yourselves all in order, and do not +crowd or jostle. + +Once, before we humans became the good and self-respecting people we +are, the Padre Eterno was sitting in heaven with St Michael beside +him, and He watched the abyss from His great throne, and saw shining +in the void one far point of light amid some seventeen million others, +and He said: + +'What is that?' + +And St Michael answered: + +'That is the Earth,' for he felt some pride in it. + +'The Earth?' said the Padre Eterno, a little puzzled . . . 'The Earth? +...?... I do not remember very exactly . . .' + +'Why,' answered St Michael, with as much reverence as his annoyance +could command, 'surely you must recollect the Earth and all the pother +there was in heaven when it was first suggested to create it, and all +about Lucifer--' + +'Ah!' said the Padre Eterno, thinking twice, 'yes. It is attached to +Sirius, and--' + +'No, no,' said St Michael, quite visibly put out. 'It is the Earth. +The Earth which has that changing moon and the thing called the sea.' + +'Of course, of course,' answered the Padre Eterno quickly, 'I said +Sirius by a slip of the tongue. Dear me! So that is the Earth! Well, +well! It is years ago now ... Michael, what are those little things +swarming up and down all over it?' + +'Those,' said St Michael, 'are Men.' + +'Men?' said the Padre Eterno, 'Men ... I know the word as well as any +one, but somehow the connexion escapes me. Men ...' and He mused. + +St Michael, with perfect self-restraint, said a few things a trifle +staccato, defining Man, his dual destiny, his hope of heaven, and all +the great business in which he himself had fought hard. But from a +fine military tradition, he said nothing of his actions, nor even of +his shrine in Normandy, of which he is naturally extremely proud: and +well he may be. What a hill! + +'I really beg your pardon,' said the Padre Eterno, when he saw the +importance attached to these little creatures. 'I am sure they are +worthy of the very fullest attention, and' (he added, for he was sorry +to have offended) 'how sensible they seem, Michael! There they go, +buying and selling, and sailing, driving, and wiving, and riding, and +dancing, and singing, and the rest of it; indeed, they are most +practical, business-like, and satisfactory little beings. But I notice +one odd thing. Here and there are some not doing as the rest, or +attending to their business, but throwing themselves into all manner +of attitudes, making the most extraordinary sounds, and clothing +themselves in the quaintest of garments. What is the meaning of that?' + +'Sire!' cried St Michael, in a voice that shook the architraves of +heaven, 'they are worshipping You!' + +'Oh! they are worshipping _me!_ Well, that is the most sensible thing +I have heard of them yet, and I altogether commend them. _Continuez,'_ +said the Padre Eterno, _'continuez!'_ + +And since then all has been well with the world; at least where _Us +continuent._ + +And so, carissimi, multitudes, all of you good-bye; the day has long +dawned on the Via Cassia, this dense mist has risen, the city is +before me, and I am on the threshold of a great experience; I would +rather be alone. Good-bye my readers; good-bye the world. + +At the foot of the hill I prepared to enter the city, and I lifted up +my heart. + +There was an open space; a tramway: a tram upon it about to be drawn +by two lean and tired horses whom in the heat many flies disturbed. +There was dust on everything around. + +A bridge was immediately in front. It was adorned with statues in soft +stone, half-eaten away, but still gesticulating in corruption, after +the manner of the seventeenth century. Beneath the bridge there +tumbled and swelled and ran fast a great confusion of yellow water: it +was the Tiber. Far on the right were white barracks of huge and of +hideous appearance; over these the Dome of St Peter's rose and looked +like something newly built. It was of a delicate blue, but made a +metallic contrast against the sky. + +Then (along a road perfectly straight and bounded by factories, mean +houses and distempered walls: a road littered with many scraps of +paper, bones, dirt, and refuse) I went on for several hundred yards, +having the old wall of Rome before me all this time, till I came right +under it at last; and with the hesitation that befits all great +actions I entered, putting the right foot first lest I should bring +further misfortune upon that capital of all our fortunes. + +And so the journey ended. + +It was the Gate of the Poplar--not of the People. (Ho, Pedant! Did you +think I missed you, hiding and lurking there?) Many churches were to +hand; I took the most immediate, which stood just within the wall and +was called Our Lady of the People--(not 'of the Poplar'. Another fall +for the learned! Professor, things go ill with you to-day!). Inside +were many fine pictures, not in the niminy-piminy manner, but strong, +full-coloured, and just. + +To my chagrin, Mass was ending. I approached a priest and said to him: + +_'Pater, quando vel a quella hora e la prossimma Missa?'_ + +_'Ad nonas,'_ said he. + +_'Pol! Hercle!'_ (thought I), 'I have yet twenty minutes to wait! +Well, as a pilgrimage cannot be said to be over till the first Mass is +heard in Rome, I have twenty minutes to add to my book.' + +So, passing an Egyptian obelisk which the great Augustus had nobly +dedicated to the Sun, I entered.... + +LECTOR. But do you intend to tell us nothing of Rome? + +AUCTOR. Nothing, dear Lector. + +LECTOR. Tell me at least one thing; did you see the Coliseum? + +AUCTOR. ... I entered a cafe at the right hand of a very long, +straight street, called for bread, coffee, and brandy, and +contemplating my books and worshipping my staff that had been friends +of mine so long, and friends like all true friends inanimate, I spent +the few minutes remaining to my happy, common, unshriven, exterior, +and natural life, in writing down this + +LOUD AND FINAL SONG + +DITHYRAMBIC EPITHALAMIUM OR THRENODY + + In these boots, and with this staff + Two hundred leaguers and a half-- + +(That means, two and a half hundred leagues. You follow? Not two +hundred and one half league.... Well--) + + Two hundred leaguers and a half + Walked I, went I, paced I, tripped I, + Marched I, held I, skelped I, slipped I, + Pushed I, panted, swung and dashed I; + Picked I, forded, swam and splashed I, + Strolled I, climbed I, crawled and scrambled, + Dropped and dipped I, ranged and rambled; + Plodded I, hobbled I, trudged and tramped I, + And in lonely spinnies camped I, + And in haunted pinewoods slept I, + Lingered, loitered, limped and crept I, + Clambered, halted, stepped and leapt I; + Slowly sauntered, roundly strode I, + +_And_ ... (Oh! Patron saints and Angels + That protect the four evangels! + And you Prophets vel majores + Vel incerti, vel minores, + Virgines ac confessores + Chief of whose peculiar glories + Est in Aula Regis stare + Atque orare et exorare + Et clamare et conclamare + Clamantes cum clamoribus + Pro nobis peccatoribus.) + +_Let me not conceal it... Rode I. _ +(For who but critics could complain +Of 'riding' in a railway train?) + _Across the valleys and the high-land, + With all the world on either hand. + Drinking when I had a mind to, + Singing when I felt inclined to; + Nor ever turned my face to home + Till I had slaked my heart at Rome._ + + +THE END AGAIN + +LECTOR. But this is dogg-- + +AUCTOR. Not a word! + +FINIS + + + + +*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK, THE PATH TO ROME *** + +This file should be named 8tptr10.txt or 8tptr10.zip +Corrected EDITIONS of our eBooks get a new NUMBER, 8tptr11.txt +VERSIONS based on separate sources get new LETTER, 8tptr10a.txt + +Project Gutenberg eBooks are often created from several printed +editions, all of which are confirmed as Public Domain in the US +unless a copyright notice is included. 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