Class
?5 1321
Book .... • A\
LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS.
PAGE
paoh:
Titian's Moses . Frontispiece
Wounded . . . .
47
The Author's Memories
xxvi
Favourite Street Cos •
The Black Knight
. 3
tume
17
Opening his Vizier .
1
Ineffaceable Scars . .
18
The Enraged Emperor
5
Piece of Sword .
50
The Portier
. 7
French Calm . . . .
53
One op those Boys
8
The Challenge accepted .
51
Schloss Hotel, Heidel
A Search
55
BERG ....
. 9
He swooned ponder-
In my Cage .
. 11
ously
56
Heidelberg Castle .
. 13
I ROLLED HIM OVER .
56
The Retreat .
16
The One I hired . . .
58
Heidelberg Castle, Eivei
The March to the Field .
59
Frontage
. 17
The Post of Danger . .
62
Jim Baker .
19
The Reconciliation .
63
1 A Blue Flush about it '
23
An Object of Admiration .
61
Couldn't see it .
. 21
Wagner ....
66
A Beer King.
27
Raging
66
The Lecturer's Audience
28
Roaring .
67
Industrious Students .
29
Shrieking . . . .
67
Idle Student
29
A Customary Thing .
68
Companionable Inter-
One of the « Rest '
60
course ....
30
A Contribution Box .
69
An Imposing Spectacle
31
Conspicuous . ...
70
An Advertisement
32
A Young Beauty
71
1 Understands his Busi-
Only a Shriek . . .
73
ness ' .
35
'He only cry' .
71
The Old Surgeon
36
Late Comers cared for .
76
The First Wound. . .
37 |
Evidently dreaming
77
The Castle Court .
41 |
« Turn on more Rain '
79
LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS.
PAGE
PAGB
Harris attending the
'He had to get up'.
139
Opera ....
80
Breakfast in the Gardes
141
Painting my Great Picture
82
Easily understood
142
Our Start .
83
Experimenting through
An Unknown Costume . .
84
Harris ....
145
The Tower .
85
At the Ball Room Door
147
Slow but Sure . . .
86
Dilsberg
150
The Robber Chief .
89
Our Advance on Dilsberg
150
An Honest Man . . .
93
Inside the Town
151
The Town by Night .
94
The Old Well . . .
153
Generations of Bare
'Send hither the Lord
Feet
95
Ulrich ' . . . .
155
Our Bedroom . . .
97
< Lead me to her Grave ' .
157
Practising .
98
Under the Linden . .
158
Pawing around . . .
100
An Excellent Pilot,
A Night's Work.
102
ONCE
159
Leaving Heilbronn . .
105
SCATTERATION
159
The Captain
107
The River Bath . . .
160
Waiting for the Train .
108
Etruscan Tear-Jug .
162
'A Deep and Tranquil
Henri H. Plate . . .
162
Ecstasy' . . . .
111
Old Blue China
162
' Which answered just as
A Real Antique . . .
164
WELL '
112
Bric-a-Brac Shop
165
Life on a Raft .
113
' Put it there ' . .
167
Rafting on the Neckar .
114
The Parson captured
16S
Lady Gertrude .
116
After Him ! . . . .
170
117
A Comprehensive Yawn .
172
A Fatal Mistake
118
Testing the Coin . . .
174
A Crusader and his Lady .
118
Beauty at the Bath
174
The Lorelei
121
In the Bath . . .
176
The Lover's Fate. . .
123
Jersey Indians .
177
Tailpiece .
129
Not particularly Socia-
The Unknown Knight
131
ble
180
The Embrace
132
Black Forest Grandee .
182
Perilous Position . . .
133
Grandee's Daughter
183
The Raft in a Storm
136
Rich Old Huss . . .
185
All Safe on Shore .
137
Gretchen .
185
' It was the Cat ' . . .
139
Paul Hoch . .
186
LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS.
Hans Schmidt
Electing- a New Member
Overcoming Obstacles .
Friends
Prospecting . . • .
A General Howl . . .
Seeking a Situation
Standing Guard . . .
Result of a Joke
Descending a Farm . .
Keeping Sunday
An Object of Sympathy .
A Non-Classical Style .
Traditional Chamois . .
Hunting Chamois — the
True Way . ...
Hunting Chamois (as re-
ported) . . . .
Marking Alpenstocks
Is She Eighteen or
Twenty ? .
*i knew i wasn't mis-
TAKEN '
Harris astonished . .
Destruction
The Lion of Lucerne . .
He liked Clocks
1 1 will tell you ' . .
Couldn't wait .
Didn't care for Style .
A Pair Better than Four .
Two wasn't Necessary .
Just the Trick .
Going to make them
stare ....
Not thrown away . .
What the Doctor recom-
mended . . . .
PAGE
PAGE
186
Wanted to feel safe
237
187
Preferred to Tramp on
189
Foot
237
189
Dern a Dog, anyway . .
238
191
A Fisher ....
239
195
Glacier Garden . . .
241
197
The Lake and Mountains
199
(Mont Pilatus) . . .
243
200
Mountain Paths
244
201
'You're an American — so
204
AM I'
245
205
Enterprise . . . .
248
208
The Constant Searcher .
250
211
The Mountain Boy . .
254
The Englishman
255
212
The Jodler . . . .
257
Another Vocalist
258
213
The Felsenthor . . .
259
216
A View from the Station .
260
Lost in the Mist . . .
261
217
The Rigi-Kulm Hotel
262
What awakened us . .
264
218
A Summit Sunrise
265
224
Perched aloft . . .
267
226
Exceedingly Comfortable 270
228
The Sunrise
271
231
The Rigi-Kulm . . .
273
233
An Optical Illusion.
275
234
Seeing the Sunrise
276
234
235
235
235
236
236
236
Railway down the Moun-
tain 277
Source of the Rhone . 280
A Glacier Table . . . 282
Glacier of Grindelwald . 284
Dawn on the Mountains . 286
A 'Rest' .... 289
New and Old Style . 291
St. Nicholas the Hermit 292
LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS.
A Landslide
Goldau Valley before
and after the land-
SLIDE
The Way they do it
Our Gallant Driver , .
A Mountain Pass
'I'm 'oful dry' . . .
It's the Fashion
What we expected . .
We missed the Scenery .
The Tourists . . . .
The Young Bride
« It was a famous Victory '
The Jungfrau, by M. T. .
Promenade in Inter-
laken ....
Street in Interlaken
Without a Courier .
Travelling with a
Courier .
Travellers' Trials . .
Grape and Whey Patients
Sociable Drivers
A Mountain Cascade . .
The Gasternthal
Exhilarating Sport . .
A Fall
What might be . . .
An Alpine Bouquet .
The End of the World .
The Forget-me-not .
A Needle of Ice . . .
Cutting Steps .
The Guide . . . .
View from the Cliff
Gemmi Pass and Lake
Daubensee
PAGE
TAGB
293
Almost a Tragedy
. 318
The Alpine Litter .
. 319
A Strange Situation .
350
291
Death Of a Countess
351
296
'They've got it all' .
355
297
Model for an Empress
356
299
The Bathers at Leuk
357
300
Bath Houses at Leuk
359
301
Bather mixed up .
362
302
'Slovenly' .
363
303
A Sunday Morning's
306
Demon
365
308
Just saved
368
309
View in Valley of Zermatt 371
310
Arrival at Zermatt
371
Fitted out
377
311
An Alp- Climber.
378
315
All ready . . .
383
317
The March ....
381
The Caravan ....
385
318
The Hook ....
388
320
The Disabled Chaplain .
389
323
Trying Experiments
390
325
Saved ! Saved ! . .
391
326
Twenty Minutes' Work .
392
327
The Black Kam . . .
393
328
The Miracle
391
329
The New Guide . . .
395
332
Scientific Besearches
397
333
Mountain Chalet
399
335
The Grandson . . .
102
336
Occasionally met with .
101
338
Summit of the Gorner
311
Grat ...
106
311
Chiefs of the Advance
311
Guard ....
My Picture of the
107
315
Matterhorn .
108
LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS.
xxin
everyeody had an excuse
Sprung a Leak . . .
A Scientific Question
Unexpected Meeting of
Friends ....
Roped together . . .
Storage of Ancestors
Falling out of his Farm .
Child Life in Switzer-
land
A Sunday Play .
The Combination . . .
Chillon ....
The Tete Noire . . .
An Exquisite Thing .
A Wild Ride . . . .
Swiss Peasant Girl .
Street in Chamonix . .
The Proud German .
The Indignant Tourist .
Music of Switzerland
Only a Mistake . . .
Preparing for the Start .
4 We all raised a Tremen-
dous Shout' .
The Grands Mulets . .
Cabin on the Grands
Mulets . . . .
Keeping Warm .
On the Alps . . . .
Take it Easy
The Mer de Glace (Mont
Blanc) ....
Taking Toll . . .
PAGE
PAGE
413
A Descending Tourist
479
415
Leaving by Diligence
480
417
The Satisfied Englishman
481
High Pressure .
483
424
No Apology . . . .
485
432
None asked
485
434
A Lively Street . . ,
486
435
Having her Full Rights .
487
How she fooled us . .
489
437
• You'll take that or
438
NONE '
492
439
Robbing a Beggar .
494
440
Dishonest Italy . . .
496
441
Stock in Trade .
496
443
Style
497
444
Specimens from Old
445
Masters . . . .
4 98
449
An Old Master .
500
451
The Lion of St. Mark
501
452
Oh, to be at Rest ! .
502
455
The World's Master-
456
piece .
504
458
Pretty Creature ! . .
505
Esthetic Tastes
508
462
A Private Family Break-
465
fast
509
European Carving . .
511
466
A Twenty-four Hour
468
Fight
523
471
Great Heidelberg Tun .
530
473
Bismarck in Prison . .
534
On the Mountains .
537
475
A Complete Word . .
547
477
Tailpiece .
564
A TRAMP ABROAD,
CHAPTER I.
One day it occurred to me that it had been many years since the world
had been afforded the spectacle of a man adventurous enough to under-
take a journey through Europe on foot. After much thought, I decided
that I was a person fitted to furnish to mankind this spectacle. So I
determined to do it. This was in March, 1878.
I looked about me for the right sort of person to accompany me in
the capacity of agent, and finally hired a Mr. Harris for this service.
It was also my purpose to study art while in Europe. Mr. Hams
was in sympathy with me in this. He was as much of an enthusiast in
art as I was, and not less anxious to learn to paint. I desired to learn
the German language ; so did Harris.
Towards the middle of April we sailed in the ' Holsatia,' Captain
Brandt, and had a very pleasant trip indeed.
After a brief rest at Hamburg, we made preparations for a long
pedestrian trip southward in the soft spring weather, but at the last
moment we changed the programme, for private reasons, and took the
express train.
We made a short halt at Frankfort-on-the-Main, and found it an
interesting city. I would have liked to visit the birth-place of Guten-
berg, but it could not be done, as no memorandum of the site of the
louse has been kept. So we spent an hour in the Goethe mansion
instead. The city permits this house to belong to private parties,
instead of gracing and dignifying herself with the honour of possessing
and protecting it.
B
//
2 TRAMP ABROAD.
Frankfort is one of the sixteen cities which have the distinction of
being the place where the following incident occurred. Charlemagne,
while chasing the Saxons (as he said), or being chased by them (as
they said), arrived at the bank of the river at dawn, in a fog. The
enemy were either before him or behind him; but in any case he
wanted to get across, very badly. He would have given anything for
a guide, but none was to be had. Presently he saw a deer, followed
by her young, approach the water. He watched her, judging that she
would seek a ford, and he was right. She waded over, and the army
followed. So a great Frankish victory or defeat was gained or avoided ;
and in order to commemorate the episode, Charlemagne commanded a
city to be built there, which he named Frankfort — the ford of the
Franks. None of the other cities where this event happened were named
from it. This is good evidence that Frankfort was the first place it
occurred at.
Frankfort has another distinction — it is the birthplace of the German
alphabet : or at least of the German word for alphabet — Buchstdben.
They say that the first movable types were made on birch sticks —
Buchstabe — hence the name.
I was taught a lesson in political economy in Frankfort. I had
brought from home a box containing a thousand very cheap cigars.
By way of experiment I stepped into a little shop in a queer old back
street, took four gaily decorated boxes of wax matches and three
cigars, and laid down a silver piece worth 48 cents. The man gave
me 43 cents change.
In Frankfort everybody wears clean clothes, and I think we noticed
that this strange thing was the case in Hamburg too, and in the villages
along the road. Even in the narrowest and poorest and most ancient
quarters of Frankfort neat and clean clothes were the rule. The little
children of both sexes were nearly always nice enough to take into
a body's lap. And as for the uniforms of the soldiers, they were
newness and brightness carried to perfection. One could never detect
a smirch or a grain of dust upon them. The street car conductors and
drivers wore pretty uniforms, which seemed to be just out of the band-
box, and their manners were as fine as their clothes.
In one of the shops I had the luck to stumble upon a book which
has charmed me nearly to death. It is entitled ' The Legends of the
A TRAMP ABROAD.
Rhine from Basle to Rotterdam,' by F. J. Kief er ; translated by L. W.
Garnham, B.A.
All tourists mention the Rhine legends — in that sort of way which
quietly pretends that the mentioner has been familiar with them all his
life, and that the reader cannot possibly be ignorant of them — but no
tourist ever tells them. So this little book fed me in a very hungry
place; and I, in my turn, intend to feed my reader, with one or two
little lunches from the same larder. I shall not mar Garnham's trans-
lation by meddling with its English ; for the most toothsome thing
about it is its quaint fashion of building English sentences on the German
plan, — and punctuating them according to no plan at all.
In the . chapter devoted to ' Legends of Frankfort ' I find the
following.
THE KNAVE OF BERGEN.
1 In Frankfort at the Romer was a great mask-ball, at the corona-
tion festival, and in the illuminated saloon, the clanging music invited
to dance, and splendidly appeared the rich toilets and charms of the
ladies, and the festively costumed Princes and Knights. All seemed
pleasure, joy, and roguish gayety, only one of the numerous guests had
a gloomy exterior ; but exactly the black armour in which he walked
s&M'
about excited general attention, and his
tall figure, as well as the noble propriety
of his movements, attracted especially the
regards of the ladies. Who the Knight
was ? Nobody could guess, for his Vizier
was well closed, and nothing made him
recognisable. Proud and yet modest he
advanced to the Empress; bowed on one
knee before her seat, and begged for the
favour of a waltz with the Queen of the
festival. And she allowed his request.
With light and graceful steps he danced
through the long saloon, with the sovereign
who thought never to have found a more
dexterous and excellent dancer. But also by the grace of his manner,
and fine conversation he knew to win the Queen, and she graciously
b2
THE BLACK KNIGHT.
4 A TRAMP ABROAD.
accorded him a second dance for which he begged, a third, and a fourth,
as well as others were not refused him. How all regarded the happy
dancer, how many envied him the high favour ; how increased curi-
osity, who the masked knight could be.
1 Also the Emperor became more and more excited with curiosity,
and with great suspense one awaited the hour, when according to mask-
law, each masked guest must make himself known. This moment
came; but although all others had unmasked, the secret knight still
refused to allow his features to be seen, till at last the Queen, driven
by curiosity, and vexed at the obstinate refusal, commanded him to
OPENING HIS VIZIEE.
open his Vizier. He opened it, and none of the high ladies and knights
knew him. But from the crowded spectators, 2 officials advanced, who
recognised the black dancer, and horror and terror spread in the saloon,
as they said who the supposed knight was. It was the executioner of
Bergen. But glowing with rage, the King commanded to seize the
criminal and lead him to death, who had ventured to dance, with the
Queen; so disgraced the Empress, and insulted the crown. The
culpable threw himself at the feet of the Emperor, and said, —
* " Indeed I have heavily sinned against all noble guests assembled
here, but most heavily against you my sovereign and my queen. The
Queen is insulted by my haughtiness equal to treason, but no punishment,
even blood, will not be able to wash out the disgrace, which you have
A TRAMP ABROAD.
suffered by me. Therefore, oh King ! allow me to propose a remedy,
to efface the shame, and to render it as if not done. Draw your sword
and knight me, then I will throw
down my gauntlet, to every one who
dares to speak disrespectfully of my
king."
i The Emperor was surprised at
this bold proposal, however it ap-
peared the wisest to him ; " You are
a brave knave," he replied after a
moment's consideration, " however
your advice is good, and displays
prudence, as your offence shows ad-
venturous courage. Well then" —
and gave him the knight-stroke —
" so I raise you to nobility, who
begged for grace for your offence
now kneels before me, rise as knight ;
knavish you have acted, and Knave
of Bergen shall you be called henceforth," and gladly the Black knight
rose ; three cheers were given in honour of the Emperor, and loud
cries of joy testified the approbation with which the Queen danced
still once with the Knave of Bergen,
THE ENRAGED EMPEROR.
A TRAMP ABROAD.
CHAPTER II.
HEIDELBERG.
"We stopped at an hotel by the railway station. Next morning, as we
sat in my room waiting for breakfast to come up, we got a good deal
interested in something which was going on over the way in front of
another hotel. First, the personage who is called the portier (who
is not the porter, but is a sort of first-mate of an hotel) 1 appeared
at the door in a spick and span new blue cloth uniform, decorated with
shining brass buttons, and with bands of gold lace around his cap and
wristbands ; and he wore white gloves, too. He shed an official glance
upon the situation, and then began to give orders. Two women-
servants came out with pails and brooms and brushes, and gave the
side- walk a thorough scrubbing ; meanwhile two others scrubbed the
four marble steps which led up to the door ; beyond these we could
see some men-servants taking up the carpet of the grand staircase. This
carpet was carried away and the last grain of dust beaten and banged
and swept out of it ; then brought back and put down again. The brass
stair rods received an exhaustive polishing and were returned to their
places. Now a troop of servants brought pots and tubs of blooming
plants and formed them into a beautiful jungle about the door and the
base of the staircase. Other servants adorned all the balconies of the
various stories with flowers and banners ; others ascended to the roof
and hoisted a great flag on a staff there. Now came some more
chambermaids and retouched the sidewalk, and afterwards wiped the
marble steps with damp cloths, and finished by dusting them off with
feather brushes. Now a broad black carpet was brought out and laid
1 See Appendix A.
A TRAMP ABROAD.
down the marble steps and out across the side-walk to the kerbstone.
The portier cast his eye along it, and found it was not absolutely straight ;
he commanded it to be straightened ; the servants made the effort —
made several efforts, in fact — but the portier was not satisfied. He
finally had it taken up, and then he
put it down himself and got it right.
At this stage of the proceedings
a narrow, bright red carpet was un-
rolled and stretched from the top of
the marble steps to the kerbstone,
along the centre of the black carpet.
This red path cost the portier more
trouble than even the black one had
done. But he patiently fixed and re-
fixed it until it was exactly right and
lay precisely in the middle of the
black carpet. In New York these per-
formances would have gathered a
mighty crowd of curious and in-
tensely interested spectators ; but
here it only captured an audience of
half-a-dozen little boys, who stood in
a row across the pavement, some with
their school knapsacks on their backs
and their hands in their pocket?
others with arms full of bundles, and
all absorbed in the show. Occasion-
ally one of them skipped irreverently
over the carpet and took up a position on the other side. This always
visibly annoyed the portier.
Now came a waiting interval. The landlord, in plain clothes, and
bareheaded, placed himself on the bottom marble step, abreast the
portier, who stood on the other end of the same step ; six or eight
waiters, gloved, bareheaded, and wearing their whitest linen, their
whitest cravats, and their finest swallow-tails, grouped themselves about
these chiefs, but leaving the carpet- way clear. Nobody moved or
spoke any more, but only waited.
THE PORTIER.
8 A TRAMP ABROAD.
In a short time the shrill piping of a coming train was heard and
immediately groups of people began to gather in the street. Two or
three open carriages arrived,
and deposited some maids-
of-honour and some male
officials at the hotel. Pre-
sently another open carriage
brought the Grand-Duke of
Baden, a stately man in
uniform, who wore the hand-
some brass-mounted, steel-
spiked helmet of the army
on his head. Last came
the Empress of Germany
one of those boys. an a tne Grand Duchess of
Baden in a close carriage ; these passed through the low bowing groups
of servants and disappeared in the hotel, exhibiting to us only the
backs of their heads, and then the show was over.
It appears to be as difficult to land a monarch as it is to launch
a ship.
But as to Heidelberg. The weather was growing pretty warm-
very warm, in fact. So we left the valley and took quarters at
the Schloss Hotel, on the hill, above the Castle.
Heidelberg lies at the mouth of a narrow gorge — a gorge the shape
of a shepherd's crook ; if one looks up it he perceives that it is about
straight for a mile and a half, then makes a sharp curve to the right
and disappears. This gorge — along whose bottom pours the swift
Neckar — is confined between (or cloven through) a couple of long,
steep ridges, a thousand feet high and densely wooded clear to their
summits, with the exception of one section which has been shaved
and put under cultivation. These ridges are chopped off at the mouth
of the gorge, and form two bold and conspicuous headlands, with
Heidelberg nestling between them ; from their bases spreads away the
vast dim expanse o£ the Ehine valley, and into this expanse the Neckar
goes wandering in shining curves, and is presently lost to view.
Now, if one turns and looks up the gorge once more, he will see
the Schloss Hotel on the right, perched on a precipice overlooking the
E
SCHL0S3 HOTEL, HEIDELBERG.
A TRAMP ABROAD.
11
Neckar, — a precipice which is so sumptuously cushioned and draped
with foliage that no glimpse of the rock appears. The building seems
very airily situated. It has the appearance of being on a shelf halfway
up the wooded mountain side ; and as it is remote and isolated, and
very white, it makes a strong mark against the lofty leafy rampart at
its back.
This hotel had a feature which was a decided novelty ; and one
which might be adopted with advantage by any house which is perched
in a commanding situation. This feature may be described as a series
of glass-enclosed parlours clinging to the outside of the house, one
IN MY CAGE.
against each and every bedchamber and drawing-room. They are like
long, narrow, high-ceiled bird-cages hung against the building. My
room was a corner room, and had two of these things, a north one and
a west one.
From the north cage one looks up the Neckar gorge ; from the west
one he looks down it. This last affords the most extensive view, and
it is one of the loveliest that can be imagined, too. Out of a billowy
upheaval of vivid green foliage, a rifle-shot removed, rises the huge
ruin of Heidelberg Castle, 1 with empty window arches, ivy-mailed battle-
1 See Appendix B.
12 A TRAMP ABROAD.
merits, mouldering towers — the Lear of inanimate nature, — deserted,
discrowned, beaten by the storms, but royal still, and beautiful. It is
a fine sight to see the evening sunlight suddenly strike the leafy de-
clivity at . the Castle's base and dash up it an d drench it as with a
luminous spray, while the adjacent groves are in deep shadow.
Behind the Castle swells a great dome-shaped hill, forest-clad, and
beyond that a nobler and loftier one. The Castle looks down upon the
compact brown-roofed town ; and from the town two picturesque old
bridges span the river. Now the view broadens ; through the gateway
of the sentinel headlands you gaze out over the wide Rhine plain,
which stretches away, softly and richly-tinted, grows gradually and
dreamily indistinct, and finally melts imperceptibly into the remote
horizon.
I have never enjoyed a view which had such a serene and satisfying
• charm about it as this one gives.
The first night we were there, we went to bed and to sleep early ,
but I awoke at the end of two or three hours, and lay a comfortable
while listening to the soothing patter of the rain against the balcony
windows. I took it to be rain, but it turned out to be only the murmur
of the restless Neckar, tumbling over her dykes and dams far below, in
the gorge. I got up and went into the west balcony and saw a wonder-
ful sight. Away down on the level, under the black mass of the
Castle, the town lay, stretched along the river, its intricate cobweb of
streets jewelled with twinkling lights; there were rows of lights on the
bridges ; these flung lances of light upon the water, in the black shadows
of the arches; and away ft the extremity of all this fairy spectacle
blinked and glowed a massed multitude of gas jets which seemed to
cover acres of ground ; it was as if all the diamonds in the world had
been spread out there. I did not know before, that a half mile of sex-
tuple railway tracks could be made such an adornment.
One thinks Heidelberg by day — with its surroundings — is the last
possibility of the beautiful ; but when he sees Heidelberg by night,
a fallen Milky Way, with that glittering railway constellation pinned
to the border, he requires time to consider upon the verdict.
One never tires of poking about in the dense woods that clothe
all these lofty Neckar hills to their tops. The great deeps of a bound-
less forest have a. beguiling afid impressive charm in any country ;
ID
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A TRAMP ABROAD. 15
but German legends and fairy tales have given these an added charm.
They have peopled all that region with gnomes, and dwarfs, and all sorts
of mysterious and uncanny creatures. At the time I am writing of, I
had been reading so much of this literature that sometimes I was not
sure but I was beginning to believe in the gnomes and fairies as
realities.
One afternoon I got lost in the woods about a mile from the hotel,
and presently fell into a train of dreamy thought about animals which
talk, and kobolds, and enchanted folk, and the rest of the pleasant
legendary stuff; and so, by stimulating my fancy, I finally got to
imagining I glimpsed small flitting shapes here and there down the
columned aisles of the forest. It was a place which was peculiarly
meet for the occasion. It was a pine wood, with so thick and soft a
carpet of brown needles that one's footfall made no more sound than if
he was treading on wool ; the tree-trunks were as round and straight
and smooth as pillars, and stood close together ; they were bare of
branches to a point about twenty-five feet above ground, and from
there upward so thick with boughs that not a ray of sunlight could
pierce through. The world was bright with sunshine outside, but a
deep and mellow twilight reigned in there, and also a silence so pro-
found that I seemed to hear my own breathings.
"When I had stood ten minutes, thinking and imagining, and getting
my spirit in tune with the place, and in the right mood to enjoy the
supernatural, a raven suddenly uttered a hoarse croak over my head.
It made me start ; and then I was angry because I started. I looked
up, and the creature was sitting on a limb right over me, looking down
at me. I felt something of the same sense of humiliation and injury
which one feels when he finds that a human stranger has been clandes-
tinely inspecting him in his privacy and mentally commenting upon
him. I eyed the raven, and the raven eyed me. Nothing was said
during some seconds. Then the bird stepped a little way along his
limb to get a better point of observation, lifted his wings, stuck his
head far down below his shoulders toward me, and croaked again — a
croak with a distinafty insulting expression about it. If he had spoken
in English he could not have said any more plainly than he did say
in raven, ' Well, what do you want here ? ' I felt as foolish as if I
nad been caught in some mean act by a responsible being, and re-
16
A TRAMP ABROAD.
proved for it. However, I made no reply ; 1 would not bandy words
with a raven. The adversary waited a while, with his shoulders still
lilted, his head thrust down between them, and his keen bright eye fixed
on me ; then he threw out two or three more insults, which I could
not understand, further than that I knew a portion of them consisted of
language not used in church.
I still made no reply. Now the adversary raised his head an
called. There was an answering croak from a little distance in the
THE RETREAT.
wood — evidently a croak of inquiry. The adversary explained with
enthusiasm, and the other raven dropped everything and came. The
two sat side by side on the limb and discussed me as freely and offen-
sively as two great naturalists might discuss a new kind of bug.
The thing became more and more embarrassing. They called in
another friend. This was too much. I saw that they had the advan-
tage of me, and so I concluded to get out of the scrape by walking out
HEIDELBERG CASTLE, RIVER FRONTAOE,
A TRAMP ABROAD.
19
of it. They enjoyed my defeat as much as any low white people
could have dona. They craned their necks and laughed at me (for n
raven can laugh, just like a man), they squalled insulting remarks after
me as long as they could see me. They were nothing but ravens — I
knew that — what they thought about me could be a matter of no conse-
quence — and yet when even a raven shouts after you : ' What a hat ! '
1 0, pull down your vest ! ' and that sort of thing, it hurts you and
humiliates you, and there is no getting around it with tine reasoning
and pretty arguments.
Animals talk to each other, of course. There can be no question
about that ; but I suppose there are very few people who can under-
stand them. I never knew but one man who could. I knew he
could, however, because he told me so himself. He was a middle-aged,
simple-hearted miner who had lived in a lonely corner of California,
among the woods and mountains, a good many years, and had studied
the ways of his only neighbours, the
beasts and the birds, until he believed
he could accurately translate any re-
mark which they made. This was
Jim Baker. According to Jim Baker,
some animals have only a limited
education, and use only very simple
wprds, and scarcely ever a comparison
or a flowery figure ; whereas, certain
other animals have a large vocabu-
lary, a fine command of language and
a ready and fluent delivery ; conse-
quently these latter talk a great deal ;
they like it ; they are conscious of
their talent, and they enjoy ' showing off.' Baker said that, after long
and careful observation, he had come to the conclusion that the blue-
jays were the best talkers he had found among birds and beasts.
Said he : —
4 There's more to a blue-jay than any other creature. He has got
more moods, and more different kinds of feelings than other creatures ;
and mind you, whatever a blue-jay feels, he can put into language.
And no mere commonplace language either, but rattling, out-and-out
c2
2.0 A TRAMP ABROAD.
book-talk — and bristling with metaphor, too — just bristling ! And as
for command of language — why you never see a blue-jay get stuck
for a word. No man ever did. They just boil out hi him ! And
another thing : I've noticed a good deal, and there's no bird, or cow, or
anything that uses as good grammar as a blue-jay. Ycu may say a
cat uses good grammar. Well, a cat does— but you et a cat get
excited, once ; you let a cat get to pulling fur with another cat on a
shed, nights, and you'll hear grammar that will give you he lockjaw.
Ignorant people think it's the noise which fighting cats makv, that is so
aggravating, but it ain't so ; it's the sickening grammar Nhey use.
Now I've never heard a jay use bad grammar but very seldo-i • an d
when they do, they are as ashamed as a human ; they shut righ down
and leave.
' You may call a jay a bird. Well, so he is, in a measure — r. cause
he's got feathers on him, and don't belong to no church, perhaj • Du t
otherwise he is just as much a human as you be. And I'll t.[ vou
for why. "A jay's gifts, and instincts, and feelings, and ir 3res t s
cover the whole ground. A jay hasn't got any more princip, than
a Congressman. A jay will lie, a jay will steal, a jay will deiW, a
jay will betray ; and four times out of five, a jay will go back «\ his
solemnest promise. The sacredness of an obligation is a thing \{ c ]^
you can't cram into no blue-jay's head. Now, on top of all this, tht' s
another thing ; a jay can outswear any gentleman in the mines. 1 •
think a cat can swear. Well, a cat can ; but you give a blue-jay a
subject that calls for his reserve powers, and where is your cat?
Don't talk to me — I know too much about this thing. And there's-
yet another thing: in the one little particular of scolding — just good>
clean, out-and-out scolding — a blue-jay can lay over anything, human
or divine, Yes, sir, a jay is everything that a man is. A jay can cry r
a ja}' can laugh, a jay can feel shame, a jay can reason and plan and
discuss, a jay likes gossip and scandal, a jay has got a sense of humour,
a jay knows when he is an ass just as well as you do — may be better.
If a jay ain't human, he'd better take in his sign, that's all. Now
I'm going to tell you a perfectly true fact about some blue-jays.'
A TRAMP ABROAD. 21
CHAPTER in.
baker's blue-jay yarn,
* When I first begun to understand jay language correctly, there was a
'little incident happened here. Seven years ago, the last man in this
region but me, moved away. There stands his house, — been empty
•ever since ; a log house, with a plank roof — just one big room, and no
more ; no ceiling — nothing between the rafters and the floor. Well,
one Sunday morning I was sitting out here in front of my cabin, with
my cat, taking the sun, and looking at the blue hills, and listening to
the leaves rustling so lonely in the trees, and thinking of the home
away yonder in the States, that I hadn't heard from in thirteen years,
when a blue-jay lit on that house, with an acorn in his mouth, and says,
"Hello, I reckon I have struck something." When he spoke, the
acorn dropped out of his mouth and rolled down the roof, of course,
but he didn't care ; his mind was all on the thing he had struck. It was
a knot-hole in the roof. He cocked his head to one side, shut one eye,
and put the other one to the hole, like a 'possum looking down a
jug ; then he glanced up with his bright eyes, gave a wink or two with
his wings — which signifies gratification, you understand, — and says,
" It looks like a hole, it's located like a hole, — blamed if I don't
believe it is a hole ! "
' Then he cocked his head down and took another look ; he glances
up perfectly joyful, this time ; winks his wings and his tail both, and
says, " 0, no, this ain't no fat thing, I reckon ! If I ain't in luck ! —
-why it's a perfectly elegant hole 1 " So he flew down and got that
acorn, and fetched it up and dropped it in, and was just tilting his
head back, with the heavenliest smile on his face, when all of a sudden
he was paralysed into a listening attitude, and that smile faded gradually
22 A TRAMP ABROAD.
out of his countenance like breath ofF'n a razor, and the queerest look
of surprise took its place. Then he says, "Why, I didn't hear it fall!" -
He cocked his eye at the hole again, and took a long look; raised up
and shook his head ; stepped around to the other side of the hole, and
took another look from that side ; shook his head again. He studied
a while, then he just went into the details — walked round and round
the hole, and spied into it from every point of the compass. No use.
Now he took a thinking attitude on the comb of the roof, and scratched
the back of his head with his right foot a minute, and finally says r
" Well, it's too many for me, that's certain ; must be a mighty long
hole ; however, I ain't got no time to fool around here, I got to 'tend
to business ; I reckon it's all right — chance it, anyway."
' So he flew off and fetched another acorn and dropped it in, and
tried to flirt his eye to the hole quick enough to see what become of
it, but he was too late. He held his eye there as much as a minute \
then he raised up and sighed, and says, " Confound it, I don't seem to
understand this thing, no way ; however, I'll tackle her again." He
fetched another acorn, and done his level best to see what become of
it, but he couldn't. He says, " Well, i" never struck no such a hole
as this, before ; I'm of the opinion it's a totally new kind of a hole.""
Then he begun to get mad. He held in for a spell, walking up and
down the comb of the roof and shaking his head and muttering to
himself; but his feelings got the upper hand of him, presently, and he
broke loose and cussed himself black in the face. I never see a bird
take on so about a little thing. When he got through he walks to
the hole and looks in again for half a minute; then he says, " Well,
you're a long hole, and a deep hole, and a mighty singular hole
altogether — but I've started in to fill you, and I'm d — d if I don't fill
you, if it takes a hundred years ! "
' And with that, away he went. You never see a bird work so
since you was born. He laid into his work like a nigger, and the way
he hove acorns into that hole for about two hours and a half was one
of the most exciting and astonishing spectacles I ever struck. He
never stopped to take a look any more — he just hove 'em in and went
for more. Well, at last he .could hardly flop his wings, he was so
tuckered out. He comes a-drooping down, once more, sweating like
an ice-pitcher, drops his acorn in and says, " Now I guess I've got the
A TRAMP ABROAD.
23
bulge on you by this time ! " So he bent down for a look. If you'll
believe me, when his head come up again he was just pale with rage.
He says, " I've shovelled acorns enough in there to keep the family
thirty years, and if I can see a
sign of one of 'em I wish I may ^
land in a museum with a
belly full of sawdust in two
minutes ! "
1 He just had strength ^_
enough to crawl up on to the
comb, and lean his back agin the
chimbly, and then he collected his
pressions, and begun to free his mind.
see in a second that what I had mistook for ^
profanity in the mines was only just the rudi-
ments, as you may say.
' Another jay was going by, and heard him
doing his devotions, and stops to inquire what was
up. The sufferer told him the whole circum-
stance, and says, " Now yonder's the hole, and if
you don't believe me go and look for yourself.'
So this fellow went and looked, and comes back
and says, a How many did you say you
put in there ? " " Not any less than two
tons," says the sufferer. The other « *
jay went and looked again. He
couldn't seem to make it out, so
he raised a yell, and three more
jays come. They all examined
the hole, they all made the ' A BLUE flush about ir/
sufferer tell it over again, then they all discussed it, and got off as many
leather-headed opinions about it as an average crowd of humans could
have done. *
' They called in more jays ; then more and more, till pretty soon
this whole region 'peared to have a blue flush about it. There must
have been five thousand of them ; and such another jawing and disput-
ing and ripping and cussing, you never heard. Every jay in the whole
24
A TEA MP ABROAD.
lot put his eye to the hole and delivered a more chuckle-headed
opinion about the mystery than the jay that went there before him.
They examined the house all over, too. The door was standing half
open, and at last one old jay happened to go and light on it and look
in. Of course that knocked
the mystery galley- west in
a second. There lay the
acorns, scattered all over
the floor. He flopped his
wings and raised a whoop.
" Come here ! " he says,
" come here, everybody ;
hang'd if this fool hasn't
been trying to fill up a
house with acorns ! " They
all came a-swooping down
like a blue cloud, and as
each fellow lit on the door
and took a glance, the
whole absurdity of the
contract that that first jay
had tackled hit him home,
and he fell over backwards
suffocating with laughter,
and the next jay took his
place and done the same.
' Well, sir, they roosted
around here on the house-
top and the trees for an
hour, and guffawed over
that thing like human
beings. It ain't any use to
tell me a blue-jay hasn't
got a sense of humour,
because I know better. And memory, too. They brought jays here
from all over the United States to look down that hole, every summer
couldn't see it.
A TRAMP ABROAD. 25
for three years. Other birds too. And they could all see the point,
except an owl that come from Nova Scotia to visit the Yo Semite, and
he took this thing in on his way back. He said he couldn't see any-
thing funny in it. But then he was a good deal disappointed about Yo
Semite, too/
A TRAMP ABROAD.
CHAPTER IV.
STUDENT LIFE.
The summer semester was in full tide ; consequently the most frequent
figure in and about Heidelberg was the student. Most of the students
were Germans, of course, but the representatives of foreign lands were
very numerous. They hailed from every corner of the globe, — for
instruction is cheap in Heidelberg, and so is living, too. The Anglo-
American Club, composed of British and American students, had
twenty-five members, and there was still much material left to draw
from.
Nine- tenths of the Heidelberg students wore no badge or uniform;
the other tenth wore caps of various colours, and belonged to social
organisations called ' corps.' There were five corps, each with a colour
of its own ; there were white caps, blue caps, and red, yellow, and
green ones. The famous duel-fighting is confined to the * corps '
boys. The ' Ifneip ' seems to be a speciality of theirs, too. Kneips
are held, now and then, to celebrate great occasions, — like the election
of a beer-king, for instance. The solemnity is simple ; the five corps
assemble at night, and at a signal they all fall loading themselves
with beer, out of pint mugs, as fast as possible, and each man keeps
his own count, — usually by laying aside a lucifer match for each mug
he empties. The election is soon decided. When the candidates
can hold no more, a count is instituted, and the one who has drunk
the greatest number of pints- is proclaimed king. I was told that the
last beer-king elected by the corps, — or by his own capabilities, —
emptied his mug seventy-five times. No stomach could hold all that
quantity at one time, of course, — but there are ways of frequently
A TRAMP ABROAD.
27
creating a vacuum, which those who have been much at sea will under-
stand.
One sees so many
students abroad at all
hours, that he pre-
sently begins to won-
der if they ever have
any working hours.
Some of them have,
some of them haven't.
Each can choose for
himself whether he
will work or play;
for German university
life is a very free
life ; it seems to have
no restraints. The
student does not live
in the college buildings, but hires his own lodgings, in any locality he
prefers, and he takes his meals when and where he pleases. He goes
to bed when it suits him, and does not get up at all unless he wants
to. He is not entered at the university for any particular length of
time; so he is likely to change about. He passes no examination
upon entering college. He merely pays a trifling fee of five or ten
dollars, receives a card entitling him to the privileges of the univer-
sity, and that is the end of it. He is now ready for business, — or
play, as he shall prefer. If he elects to work, he finds a large list
of lectures to choose from. He selects the subjects which he will
study, and enters his name for these studies ; but he can skip attend-
ance.
The result of this system is, that lecture-courses upon specialities
of an unusual nature are often delivered to very slim audiences,
while those upon more practical and every-day matters of educa-
tion are delivered to very large ones. I heard of one case w r here, day
after day, the lecturer's audience consisted of three students, — and
always the same three. But one day two of them remained away.
The lecturer began as usual —
— tlicn, without a smile,
28 A TRAMP ABROAD,
1 Gentlemen,' —
he corrected himself, saying,—
< shy—
— and went on with his
discourse.
It is said that the vast majority of the Heidelberg students are
hard workers, and make the most of their opportunities ; that they have
no surplus means to spend in dissipation, and no time to spare for
THE LECTURER'S AUDIENCE.
frolicking. One lecture follows right on the heels of another, with
very little time for the student to get out of one hall and into the next;
but the industrious ones manage it by going on a trot. The professors
assist them in the saving of their time by being promptly in their
little boxed-up pulpits when the hours strike, and as promptly out
again when the hour finishes. I entered an empty lecture-room one day
just before the clock struck. The place had simple, unpainted pine
desks and benches for about 200 persons.
About a minute before the clock struck, a hundred and fifty
A TRAMP ABROAD.
29
Ptudents swarmed in, rushed to their seats, immediately spread open
their note-books and dipped their pens in the ink. When the clock
began to strike, a burly professor entered, was received with a round of
applause, moved swiftly down the centre aisle, said ' Gentlemen,' and
INDUSTRIOUS STUDENTS.
began to talk as he climbed his pulpit steps ; and by the time he
had arrived in his box and faced his audience, his lecture was well
under way and all the pens __ _ ~V ; p
were going. He had no V'
notes, he talked with pro- Jssr
digious rapidity and energy ^\\ A/^ rf: %- -
for an hour, — then the^ '- ^^_- / *
to rem
students began
m
him in certain well-under- 'fe:
*2U
stood ways that his time "gf
was up; he seized his hat,
still talking, proceeded
swiftly down his pulpit
steps, got out the last word
of his discourse as he
struck the floor; everybody
rose respectfully, and he
swept rapidly down the
aisle and disappeared. An
instant rush for some other lecture room followed, and in a minute
I was alone with the empty benches once more.
oO
A TRAMP ABROAD.
Yes, without doubt, idle students are not the rule. Out of eight
hundred in the town, I knew the faces of only about fifty ; but these I
saw everywhere and daily. They walked about the streets and the
wooded hills, they drove in cabs, they boated on the river, they sipped
beer and coffee, afternoons, in the Schloss gardens. A good many of
them wore the coloured caps of the corps. They were finely and
fashionably dressed, their manners were quite superb, and they led an
easy, careless, comfortable life. If a dozen of them sat together, and
a lady or a gentleman passed whom one of them knew and saluted,
they all rose to their feet and took off their caps. The members
of a corps always received a fellow-member in this way, too ; but
they paid no attention to members of other corps ; they did not seem
to see them. This was not a discourtesy; it was only a part of the
elaborate and rigid corps etiquette.
There seems to be no chilly distance existing between the German
students and the professor; but, on the contrary, a companionable
f/ljii'v intercourse, the opposite
||^W||0I of chilliness and reserve.
"When the professor enters
COMPANIONABLE INTERCOURSE.
•a beer hall in the evening
l/j where students are gathered
j\\ together, these rise up and
r ; take off their caps, and in-
vite the old gentleman to
11 sit with them and partake.
'^f'o He accepts, and the pleasant
talk and the beer flow for
an hour or two, and by-and-by the professor, properly charged and
comfortable, gives a cordial good-night, while the students stand
bowing and uncovered ; and then he moves on his happy way home-
ward with all his vast cargo of learning afloat in his hold. Nobody
finds fault or feels outraged ; no harm has been done.
It seemed to be a part of corps etiquette to keep a dog or so, too.
I mean a corps dog, — the common property of the organisation, like
the corps steward or head servant ; then there are other dogs, owned
by individuals.
Gn 1 a summer afternoon in the Castle gardens, I have seen six
A TRAMP ABROAD.
31
students march solemnly into the grounds, in single file, each carrying
a bright Chinese parasol and leading a prodigious dog by a string.
It was a very imposing spectacle. Sometimes there would be about
as many dogs around the pavilion as students ; and of all breeds
and of all degrees of beauty and ugliness
These dogs had a rather
AN IMPOSING SPECTACLE.
dry time of it : for they were tied to the benches and had no amuse-
ment for an hour or two at a time, except what they could get out of
pawing at the gnats, or trying to sleep and not succeeding. How-
ever, they got a lump of sugar occasionally — they were fond of that.
It seemed right and proper that students should indulge in dogs ;
but everybody else had them, too, — old men and young ones, old
women and nice young ladies. If there is one spectacle that is un-
pleasanter than another, it is that of an elegantly dressed young lady
towing a dog by a string. It is said to be the sign and symbol of
blighted love. It seems to me that some other way of advertising it
might be devised, which would be just as conspicuous and yet not so
trying to the proprieties.
It would be a mistake to suppose that the easy-going, pleasure-
seeking student carries an empty head. Just the contrary. He has
spent nine years in the Gymnasium, under a system which allowed
him no freedom, but rigorously compelled him to work like a slave.
Consequently he has left the gymnasium with an education which is
so extensive and complete, that the most a university can lo for it is
to perfect some of its profounder specialities. It is said /hen
32 A TRAMP ABROAD.
a pupil leaves the gymnasium, he not only has a comprehensive
education, but he knows what he knows, — it is not befogged with un-
certainty, it is burnt into him so that it will stay. For instance, he
£N ADVERTISEMENT.
does not merely read and write Greek, but speaks it ; the same with
the Latin. Foreign youth steer clear of the gymnasium ; its rules are
too severe. They go to the university to put a mansard roof on
their whole general education ; but the German student already has his
A TRAMP ABROAD. 33
mansard roof, so he goes there to add a steeple in the nature of some
speciality, such as a particular branch of law, or medicine, or philo-
logy — like international law, or diseases of the eye, or special study of
the ancient Gothic tongues. So this German attends only the lectures
which belong to the chosen branch, and drinks his beer and tows his dog
around, and has a general good time the rest of the day. He has
been in rigid bondage so long that the large liberty of university life is
just what he needs and likes and thoroughly appreciates; and as it
cannot last for ever, he makes the most of it while it does last, and so
lays up a good rest against the day that must see him put on the chains
once more and enter the slavery of official or professional life.
34 A TRAMP ABROAD*
CHAPTER V.
AT THE STUDENTS' DUELLING-GROUND.
One day in the interest of science my agent obtained permission to
bring me to the students' duelling-place. We crossed the river and
drove up the bank a few hundred yards, then turned to the left,
entered a narrow alley, followed it a hundred yards, and arrived at a
two-story public-house ; we were acquainted with its outside aspect,
for it was visible from the hotel. We went upstairs and passed into
a large whitewashed apartment, which was perhaps fifty feet long, by
thirty feet wide and twenty or twenty-five high. It was a well-lighted
place. There was no carpet. Across one end and down both sides
of the room extended a row of tables, and at these tables some fifty or
seventy-five students ! were sitting.
Some of them were sipping wine, others were playing cards, others
chess, other groups were chatting together, and many were smoking
cigarettes while they waited for the coming duels. Nearly all of them
wore coloured caps ; there were white caps, green caps, blue caps, red
caps, and bright yellow ones ; so, all the five corps were present in
strong force. In the windows at the vacant end of the room stood six
or eight long, narrow-bladed swords with large protecting guards
for the hand, and outside was a man at work sharpening others on
a grindstone. He understood his business ; for when a sword left his
hand one could shave himself with it.
It was observable that the young gentlemen neither bowed to nor
spoke with students whose caps differed in colour from their own.
This did not mean hostility, but only an armed neutrality. It was
1 See Appendix C.
A TRAMP ABROAD.
35
considered that a person could strike harder in the duel, and with a more
earnest interest, if he had never been in a condition of comradeship
with his antagonist ; therefore, comradeship between the corps was
not permitted. At intervals i,j,
the presidents of the five corps
have a cold official inter-
course with each other, but no-
thing further. For example,
when the regular duelling day
of one of the corps approaches,
its president calls for volunteers
from among the membership to
offer battle ; three or more
respond, — but there must not
be less than three ; the presi-
dent lays their names before
the other presidents, with the
request that they furnish an-
tagonists for these challengers
from among their corps. This
is promptly done. It chanced
that the present occasion was the battle-day of the Red Cap Corps.
They were the challengers, and certain caps of other colours had
volunteered to meet them. The students fight duels in the room
which I have described, two days in every week during seven and a
half or eight months in every year. This custom has continued in
Germany two hundred and fifty years.
To return to my narrative. A student in a white cap met us and
introduced us to six or eight friends of his who also wore white caps,
and while we stood conversing, two strange-looking figures were led
in, from another room. They were students panoplied for the duel.
They were bare-headed ; their eyes were protected by iron goggles
which projected an inch or more, the leather straps of which bound
their ears flat against their heads; their necks were wound around
and around with thick wrappings which a sword could not cut through ;
from chin to ankle they were padded thoroughly against injury ; their
arms were bandaged and re-bandaged, layer upon layer, until they
D2
UNDERSTANDS HIS BUSINESS.
36
A TRAMP ABROAD.
members of
corps about
looked like solid black logs. These weird apparitions had been hand-
some youths, clad in fashionable attire fifteen minutes before, but now
they did not resemble any beings one ever sees unless in nightmares.
They strode along, with their arms projecting straight out from their
bodies; they did not hold them out themselves, but fellow-students
walked beside them and gave the needed support.
There was a rush for the vacant end of the room now, and we
followed and got good places. The combatants were placed face to
face, each with several
his own
him to
assist ; two seconds, well
padded, and with swords
in their hands, took near
stations ; a student be-
longing to neither of the
opposing corps placed
himself* in a good posi-
tion to umpire the
combat ; another stu-
dent stood by with a
watch and a memoran-
dum-book to keep
record of the time and
the number and nature
of the wounds ; a grey-
u haired surgeon was
present with his lint, his bandages, and his instruments. After a
moment's pause the duellists saluted the umpire respectfully, then one
after another the several officials stepped forward, gracefully removed
their caps and saluted him also, and returned to their places. Every-
thing was ready now ; students stood crowded together in the fore-
ground, and others stood behind them on chairs and tables. Every
face was turned towards the centre of attraction.
The combatants were watching each other with alert eyes ; a perfect
stillness, a breathless interest reigned. I felt that I was going to see
some wary work. But not so. The instant the word was given, the
A TRAMP ABROAD.
37
two apparitions sprang forward and began to rain blows down upon
each other with such lightning rapidity that I could not quite tell
whether I saw the swords or only the flashes they made in the air ; the
rattling din of these blows, as they struck steel or paddings, was some-
thing wonderfully stirring, and they were struck with such terrific force
that I could not understand why the opposing sword was not beaten
down under the assault. Presently, in the midst of the sword-flashes,
I saw a handful of hair skip into the air as if it had lain loose on the
victim's head and a breath of wind had puffed it suddenly away.
The seconds cried ' Halt ! ' and knocked up the combatants' swords
THE FIRST WOUND.
with their own. The duellists sat down ; a student official stepped
forward, examined the wounded head, and touched the place with a
sponge once or twice ; the surgeon came and turned back the hair
from the wound, and revealed a crimson gash two or three inches long,
and proceeded to bind an oval piece of leather and a bunch of lint
over it ; the tallykeeper stepped up and tallied one for the opposition
in his book.
Then the duellists took position again ; a small stream of blood
was flowing down the side of the injured man's head, and over his
shoulder, and down his body to the floor, but he did not seem to mind
38 A TRAMP ABROAD.
this. The word was given, and they plunged at each other as fiercely
as before; once more the blows rained, and rattled, and flashed;
every few moments the quick-eyed seconds would notice that a sword
was bent — then they called * Halt ! ' struck up the contending weapons,
and an assisting student straightened the bent one.
The wonderful turmoil went on — presently a bright spark sprang
from a blade, and that blade, broken in several pieces, sent one of ita
fragments flying to the ceiling. A new sword was provided, and the
fight proceeded. The exercise was tremendous, of course, and in
time the fighters began to show great fatigue. They were allowed to
rest a moment, every little while ; they got other rests by wounding
each other, for then they could sit down while the doctor applied
the lint and bandages. The law is that the battle must continue
fifteen minutes if the men can hold out ; and as the pauses do not
count, this duel was protracted to twenty or thirty minutes, I judged.
At last it was decided that the men were too much wearied to do
battle longer. They were led away drenched with crimson from head
to foot. That was a good fight, but it could not count, partly because
it did not last the lawful fifteen minutes (of actual fighting), and partly
because neither man was disabled by his wounds. It was a drawn
battle, and corps- law requires that drawn battles shall be re-fought
as soon as the adversaries are well of their hurts.
During the conflict, I had talked a little, now and then, with a young
gentleman of the white cap corps, and he had mentioned that he was to
fight next — and had also pointed out his challenger, a young gentle-
man who was leaning against the opposite wall smoking a cigarette,
and restfully observing the duel then in progress.
My acquaintanceship with a party to the coming contest had the
effect of giving me a kind of personal interest in it ; I naturally wished
he might win, and it was the reverse of pleasant to learn that he
probably would not, because, although he was a notable swordsman,
the challenger was held to be his superior.
The duel presently began, and in the same furious way which
had marked the previous one. I stood close by, but could not tell which
blows told and which did not, they fell and vanished so like flashes
of light. They all seemed to tell ; the swords always bent over the
opponents' heads, from the forehead back over the crown, and seemed
A TRAMP ABROAD. 39
to touch, all the way ; but it was not so — a protecting blade, invisible
to me, was always interposed between. At the end of ten seconds
each man had struck twelve or fifteen blows, and warded off
twelve or fifteen, and no harm done ; then a sword became disabled,
and a short rest followed whilst a new one was brought. Early in the
next round the white corps student got an ugly wound on the side
of his head, and gave his opponent one like it. In the third round
the latter received another bad wound in the head, and the former had
his under lip divided. After that, the white corps student gave many
severe wounds, but got none of consequence in return. At the end of
five minutes, from the beginning of the duel, the surgeon stopped it ;
the challenging party had suffered such injuries that any addition to
them might be dangerous. These injuries were a fearful spectacle,
but are better left undescribed. So, against expectation, my acquaint-
ance was the victor.
40 A TRAMP ABROAD.
CHAPTEE VT.
The third duel was brief and bloody. The surgeon stopped it when
he saw that one of the men had received such bad wounds that he could
not fight longer without endangering his life.
The fourth duel was a tremendous encounter ; but at the end of
five or six minutes the surgeon interfered once more: another man
so severely hurt as to render it unsafe to add to his harms. I watched
this engagement as I had watched the others — with rapt interest and
strong excitement, and with a shrink and a shudder for every blow
that laid open a cheek or a forehead ; and a conscious paling of my
face when I occasionally saw a wound of a yet more shocking nature
inflicted. My eyes were upon the loser of this duel when he got his
last and vanquishing wound — it was in his face, and it carried away
his — but no matter, I must not enter into details. I had but a glance,
and then turned quickly away, but I would not have been looking at
all if I had known what was coming. No, that is probably not true ;
one thinks he would not look if he knew what was coming, but the
interest and the excitement are so powerful that they would doubtless
conquer all other feelings ; and so, under the fierce exhilaration of the
clashing steel, he would yield and look, after all. Sometimes spectators
of these duels faint, and it does seem a very reasonable thing to do, too.
Both parties to this fourth duel were badly hurt ; so much so that
the surgeon was at work upon them nearly or quite an hour — a fact
which is suggestive. But this waiting interval was not wasted in idle-
ness by the assembled students. It was past noon; therefore they
ordered their landlord, downstairs, to send up hot beefsteaks, chickens,
and such things, and these they ate, sitting comfortably at the several
tables, whilst they chatted, disputed, and laughed. The door to the
surgeon's room stood open, meantime, but the cutting, sewing, splicing,
>^v
A TRAMP ABROAD. 43
and bandaging going on in there in plain view, did not seem to disturb
anyone's appetite. I went in and saw the surgeon labour awhile, but
could not enjoy it ; it was much less trying to see the wounds given and
received than to see them mended ; the stir and turmoil, and the music
of the steel were wanting here — one's nerves were wrung by this grisly
spectacle, whilst the duel's compensating pleasurable thrill was lacking.
Finally the doctor finished, and the men who were to fight the
closing battle of the day came forth. A good many dinners were not
completed yet, but no matter, they could be eaten cold after the battle ;
therefore everybody crowded forward to see. This was not a love
duel, but a ' satisfaction ' affair. These two students had quarrelled,
and were here to settle it. They did not belong to any of the corps,
but they were furnished with weapons and armour, and permitted
to fight here by the five corps as a courtesy. Evidently these two
young men were unfamiliar with the duelling ceremonies, though they
were not unfamiliar with the sword. When they were placed in
position, they thought it was time to begin — and they did begin, too,
and with a most impetuous energy, without waiting for anybody to
give the word. This vastly amused the spectators, and even broke
down their studied and courtly gravity, and surprised them into
laughter. Of course the seconds struck up the swords and started the
duel over again. At the word, the deluge of blows began, but before
long the surgeon once more interfered — for the only reason which ever
permits him to interfere — and the day's war was over. It was now
two in the afternoon, and I had been present since half-past nine in the
morning. The field of battle was indeed a red one by this time ;
but some sawdust soon righted that. There had been one duel before
I arrived. In it one of the men received many injuries, while the
other one escaped without a scratch.
I had seen the heads and faces of ten youths gashed in every direc-
tion by the keen two-edged blades, and yet had not seen a victim wince,
nor heard a moan, or detected any fleeting expression which confessed
the sharp pain the hurts were inflicting. This was good fortitude
indeed. Such endurance is to be expected in savages and prize-fighters,
for they are born and educated to it ; but to find it in such perfec-
tion in these gently bred and kindly nurtured young fellows is matter
for surprise. It was not merely under the excitement of the sword-
44 A TRAMP ABROAD.
play that this fortitude was shown ; it was shown in the surgeon's
room, where an uninspiring quiet reigned, and where there was no
audience. The doctor's manipulations brought out neither grimaces
nor moans ; and in the fights it was observable that these lads hacked
and slashed with the same tremendous spirit, after they were covered
with streaming wounds, which they had shown in the beginning.
The world in general looks upon the college duels as very farcical
affairs : true, but considering that the college duel is fought by boys,
that the swords are real swords, and that the head and face are ex-
posed, it seems to me that it is a farce which has quite a grave side to
it. People laugh at it mainly because they think the student is so
covered up with armour that he cannot be hurt. But it is not so ;
his eyes and ears are protected, but the rest of his face and head is
bare. He can not only be badly wounded, but his life is in danger, and
lie would sometimes lose it but for the interference of the surgeon.
It is not intended that his life shall be endangered. Fatal accidents
a/e possible, however. For instance, the student's sword may break,
and the end of it fly up behind his antagonist's ear and cut an artery
which could not be reached if the sword remained whole. This has
happened sometimes, and death has resulted on the spot. Formerly the
student's armpits were not protected — and at that time the swords were
pointed, whereas they are blunt now — so an artery in the armpit was
sometimes cut, and death followed. Then, in the days of sharp-pointed
swords, a spectator was an occasional victim ; the end of a broken
sword flew five or ten feet and buried itself in his neck or his heart,
and death ensued instantly. The student duels in Germany occasion
two or three deaths every year now, but this arises only from the care-
lessness of the wounded men ; they eat or drink imprudently, or com-
mit excesses in the way of over- exertion; inflammation sets in, and
gets such a headway that it cannot be arrested. Indeed there is blood
and pain and danger enough about the college duel to entitle it to a
considerable degree of respect.
All the customs, all the laws, all the details pertaining to the student
duel are quaint and na'ive. The grave, precise, and courtly ceremony
with which the thing is conducted, invests it with a sort of antique
charm .
This dignity and these knightly graces suggest the tournament,
A TRAMP ABROAD. 45
not the prize-fight. The laws are as curious as they are strict. For
instance, the duellist may step forward from the line he is placed upon,
if he chooses, but never back of it. If he steps back of it, or even
leans back, it is considered that he did it to avoid a blow or contrive
an advantage, so he is dismissed from his corps in disgrace. It would
seem but natural to step from under a descending sword unconsciously,
and against one's will and intent, yet this unconsciousness is not allowed.
Again, if, under the sudden anguish of a wound, the receiver of it
makes a grimace, he falls some degrees in the estimation of his fellows ;
his corps are ashamed of him, they call him ' hare-foot,' which is the
German equivalent for chicken-hearted.
46 A TRAMP ABROAD.
CHAPTER VII.
In addition to the corps laws, there are some corps usages which have
the force of laws.
Perhaps the president of a corps notices that one of the member-
ship who is no longer an exempt — that is, a freshman — has remained
a sophomore some little time without volunteering to fight; some
day, the president, instead of calling for volunteers, will appoint this
sophomore to measure swords with a student of another corps ; he is
free to decline — everybody says so — there is no compulsion. This is
all true — but I have not heard of any student who did decline. ■ He
would naturally rather retire from the corps than decline ; to decline,
and still remain in the corps, would make him unpleasantly con-
spicuous, and properly so, since he knew, when he joined, that his
main business, as a member, would be to fight. No, there is no law
against declining — except the law of custom, which is confessedly
stronger than written law, everywhere.
The ten men whose duels I had witnessed did not go away when
their hurts were dressed, as I had supposed they would, but came
back, one after another, as soon as they were free of the sur -eon, and
mingled with the assemblage in the duelling room. The lite cap
student who won the second fight witnessed the remaining ■ ree, and
talked with us duriDg the intermissions. He could not talk /ery well,
because his opponent's sword had cut his under lip in two, and then
the surgeon had sewed it together and overlaid it with a profusion of
white plaister patches ; neither could he eat easily, still he contrived to
accomplish a slow and troublesome luncheon while the last duel was
preparing. The man who was the worst hurt of all played chess while
waiting to see this engagement. A good part of his face waT covered
with patches and bandages, and all the rest of his head was cover 3d
A TRAMP ABROAD.
47
^IfcmfaL—
and concealed by them. It is said that the student likes to appear on
the street and in other public places in this kind of array, and that this
predilection often keeps him out
when exposure to rain or sun
is a positive danger for him. ,/a
Newly bandaged students are a j/j
very common spectacle in the
public gardens of Heidelberg.
It is also said that the student
is glad to get wounds in the
face ; because the scars they
leave will show so well there ;
and it is also said that these face
wounds are so prized that
youths have even been known
to pull them apart from time to time and put red wine in them, to make
them heal badly and leave as ugly a scar as possible. It does not
look reasonable, but it is roundly
asserted and maintained, never-
theless. I am sure of one thing
— scars are plenty enough in
Germany among the young
men ; and very grim ones they
are, too. They criss-cross the
face in angry red welts, and
are permanent and inefface-
able. Seme of these scars are
of a ver ' strange and dreadful
aspect ; i A the effect is striking
when several such accent the
milder ones, which form a city
map on a man's face ; they suggest the * burned district ' then.
We had often noticed that many of the students wore a coloured
silk band or riband diagonally across their breasts. 1 It transpired that
1 From my Diary. — Dined in an hotel a few miles up the Neckar, in a
room whos,e walls were hung all over with framed portrait -groups of the Five
Corps ; soi .e were recent, but many antedated photography, and were pictured
FAVOURITE STREET COSTUMES.
48
A TRAMP ABROAD.
this signifies that the wearer has fought three duels in which a decision
was reached — duels in which he either whipped or was whipped — for
drawn battles do not count. After a student has received his riband,
he is 'free;' he can cease from fighting, without reproach — except
some one insult him ; his president cannot appoint him to fight ; he can
volunteer if he wants to, or re-
main quiescent if he prefers to
do so. Statistics show that he
does not prefer to remain quies-
cent. They show that the duel
has a singular fascination about
it somewhere, for these free
men, so far from resting upon
the privilege of the badge, are
always volunteering. A corps
student told me it was on record
that Prince Bismarck fought
thirty-two of these duels in a
single summer term when he was
in college. So he fought twenty-
nine after his badge had given
him the right to retire from the field.
The statistics may be found to possess interest in several particulars.
Two days in every week are devoted to duelling. The rule is rigid
that there must be three duels on each of these days; there are
generally more, but there cannot be fewer. There were six the day
I was present ; sometimes there are seven or eight. It is insisted that
eight duels a week — four for each of the two days — is too low an average
to draw a calculation from, but I will reckon from that basis, preferring
an under-statement to an over-statement of the case. This requires
about 480 or 500 duellists in a year — for in summer the college term
is about three and a half months, and in winter it is four months and
sometimes longer. Of the 750 students in the university at the time I
in lithography — the dates ranged back to forty or fifty years ago. Nearly
every individual wore the riband across his breast. In one portrait-group,
representing (as each of these pictures did) an entire Corps, I took pains to
count the ribands: there were twenty-seven members, and twenty-one of
them wore that significant badge.
INEFFACEABLE SCARS.
A TRAMP ABROAD. 49
am writing of, only eighty belonged to the five corps, and it is only
these corps that do the duelling ; occasionally other students borrow
the arms and battle-ground of the five corps in order to settle a quarrel,
but this does not happen every duelling day. 1 Consequently eighty
youths furnish the material for some 250 duels a year. This average
gives six fights a year to each of the eighty. This large work could
not be accomplished if the badge-holders stood upon their privilege
and ceased to volunteer.
Of course, where there is so much fighting, the students make
it a point to keep themselves in constant practice with the foil. One
often sees them, at the tables in the Castle grounds, using their whips
or canes to illustrate some new sword trick which they have heard
about ; and between the duels, on the day whose history I have been
writing, the swords were not always idle; every now and then we
heard a succession of the keen hissing sounds which the sword makes
when it is being put through its paces in the air, and this informed us
that a student was practising. Necessarily this unceasing attention
to the art develops an expert occasionally. He becomes famous in his
own university, his renown spreads to other universities. He is in-
vited to Gottingen, to fight with a Gottingen expert; if he is victorious,
he will be invited to other colleges, or those colleges will send their
experts to him. Americans and Englishmen often join one or another
of the five corps. A year or two ago, the principal Heidelberg expert
was a big Kentuckian; he was invited to the various universities,
and left a wake of victory behind him all about Germany'; but at
last a little student in Strasburg defeated him. There was formerly a
student in Heidelberg who had picked up somewhere and mastered a
peculiar trick of cutting up under instead of cleaving down from above.
While the trick lasted he won in sixteen successive duels in his own
university ; but by that time observers had discovered what his charm
was, and how to break it, therefore his championship ceased.
The rule which forbids social intercourse between members of
different corps is strict. In the duelling house, in the parks, on the
1 They have to borrow the arms because they could not get them elsewhere
or otherwise. As I understand it, the public authorities, all over Germany,
allow the five corps to keep swords, but do not allow them to use them. This
law is rigid ; it is only the execution of it that is lax.
50
A TRAMP ABROAD.
street, and anywhere and everywhere that students go, caps of a colour
group themselves together. If all the tables in a public garden were
crowded but one, and that one had two red-cap students at it and
ten vacant places, the yellow caps, the blue caps, the white caps, and
the green caps, seeking seats, would go by that table and not seem
to see it, nor seem to be aware that there was such a table in the
grounds. The student by whose courtesy we had been enabled to
visit the duelling place wore the white cap — Prussian
Corps. He introduced us to many white caps, but to
none of another colour. The corps etiquette extended
even to us, who were strangers, and required us to group
with the white corps only, and speak only with the white
corps, while we were their guests, and keep aloof from
caps of the other colours. Once I wished to examine
some of the swords, but an American student said, ' It
would not be quite polite; these now in the windows
all have red hilts or blue ; they will bring in some with
white hilts presently, and those you can handle freely.'
When a sword was broken in the first duel, I wanted a
piece of it ; but its hilt was the wrong colour, so it was
considered best and politest to await a proper er season.
It was brought to me after the room was cleared, and I
will now make a ' life-size ' sketch of it by tracing a line
around it with my pen, to show the width of the weapon.
The length of these swords is about three feet, and they are
quite heavy. One's disposition to cheer, during the course
of the duels or at their close, was naturally strong, but
corps etiquette forbade any demonstrations of this sort.
However brilliant a contest or a victory might be, no
sign or sound betrayed that anyone was moved. A
dignified gravity and repression were maintained at all
times.
piece op When the duelling was finished and we were ready
to go, the gentlemen of the Prussian Corps to whom we
had been introduced took off their caps in the courteous German way,
and also shook hands ; their brethren of the same order took off their
caps and bowed, but without shaking hands; the gentlemen of the-
A TRAMP ABROAD. 51
other corps treated us just as they would have treated white caps —
they fell apart, apparently unconsciously, and left us an unobstructed
pathway, but did not seem to see us or know we were there. If we
had gone thither the following week as guests of another corps, the
white caps, without meaning any offence, would have observed the
etiquette of their order, and ignored our presence. 1
1 How strangely are comedy and tragedy blended in this life I I had
not been home a full half -hour after witnessing those playful sham-duels, when
circumstances made it necessary for me to get ready immediately to assist
personally at a real one — a duel with no effeminate limitations in the matter
of results, but a battle to the death. An account of it, in the next chapter, will
show the reader that duels between boys for fun and duels between men
in earnest are very different affairs.
w I
62 A TRAMP ABROAD.
CHAPTER VIII.
THE GREAT FRENCH DUEL.
Much as the modern French duel is ridiculed by certain smart people,
it is in reality one of the most dangerous institutions of our day.
Since it is always fought in the open air, the combatants are nearly
sure to catch cold. M. Paul de Cassagnac, the most inveterate of the
French duellists, has suffered so often in this way that he is at last
a confirmed invalid ; and the best physician in Paris has expressed
the opinion that if he goes on duelling for fifteen or twenty years
more — unless he forms the habit of fighting in a comfortable room
where damps and draughts cannot intrude — he will eventually endanger
his life. This ought to moderate the talk of those people who are
so stubborn in maintaining that the French duel is the most health-
giving of recreations because of the open-air exercise it affords. And
it ought also to moderate that foolish talk about French duellists
and socialist-hated monarchs being the only people who are immortal.
But it is time to get at my subject. As soon as I heard of the
late fiery outbreak between M. Gambetta and M. Fourtou in the French
Assembly, I knew that trouble must follow. I knew it because a long
personal friendship with M. Gambetta had revealed to me the despe-
rate and implacable nature of the man. Vast as are his physical
proportions, I knew that the thirst for revenge would penetrate to the
remotest frontiers of his person.
I did not wait for him to call on me, but went at once to him. As
I expected, I found the brave fellow steeped in a profound French
calm. I say French calm, because French calmness and English calm-
ness have points of difference. He was moving swiftly back and
forth among the debris of his furniture, now and then staving chance
fragments of it across the room with his foot ; grinding a constant grist
A TRAMP ABROAD.
53
of curses through his set teeth; and halting every little while to
deposit another handful of his hair on the pile which he had been
building of it on the table.
He threw his arms around my neck, bent me over his stomach to his
breast, kissed me on both cheeks, hugged me four or five times, and
then placed me in his own arm-chair.
As soon as I had got well again, we
began business at once.
I said I supposed he would wish
me to act as his second, and he said,
' Of course.' I said I must be al-
lowed to act under a French name,
so that I might be shielded from
obloquy in my country, in case of
fatal results. He winced here, pro-
bably at the suggestion that duelling
was not regarded with respect in
America. However, he agreed to my:
requirement. This accounts for the —
fact that in all the newspaper reports
M. Gambetta's second was apparently French calm.
a Frenchman.
First, we drew up my principal's will. I insisted upon this, and
stuck to my point. I said I had never heard of a man in his right mind
going out to fight a duel without first making his will. He said he had
never heard of a man in his right mind doing anything of the kind.
When he had finished the will, he wished to proceed to a choice of his
' last words.' He wanted to know how the following words, as a dying
exclamation, struck me : —
I I die for my God, for my country, for freedom of speech, for
progress, and the universal brotherhood of man ! '
I objected that this would require too lingering a death ; it was a
good speech for a consumptive, but not suited to the exigencies of the
field of honour. We wrangled over a good many ante-mortem out-
bursts, but I finally got him to cut his obituary down to this, which he
copied into his memorandum book, purposing to get it by heart : —
*I DIE THAT FRANCE MAY LIVE.'
W/.ft
54
A TRAMP ABROAD.
I said that this remark seemed to lack relevancy ; but he said rele-
vancy was a matter of no consequence in last words — what you wanted
was thrill.
The next thing in order was the choice of weapons. My principal
said he was not feeling well, and would leave that and the other
details of the proposed meeting to me. Therefore I wrote the follow-
ing note and carried it to M. Fourtou's friend : —
1 Sir, — M. Gambetta accepts M. Fourtou's challenge, and authorises
me to propose Plessis-Piquet as the place of meeting; to-morrow
morning at daybreak as the time ; and axes as the weapons. I am,
sir, with great respect, Mark Twain.'
M. Fourtou's friend read this note, and shuddered. Then he
turned to me, and said, with a sugges-
tion of severity in his tone —
' Have you considered, sir, what
would be the inevitable result of such
a meeting as this ? '
1 Well, for instance, what would it
be?'
1 Bloodshed ! '
1 That's about the size of it,' I said.
1 Now, if it is a fair question, what
was your side proposing to shed ? '
I had him there. He saw he had
made a blunder, so he hastened to explain it away. He said he had
spoken jestingly. Then he added that he and his principal would
enjoy axes, and indeed prefer them, but such weapons were barred by
the French code, and so I must change my proposal.
I walked the floor, turning the thing over in my mind, and finally
it occurred to me that Gatling guns at fifteen paces would be a likely
way to get a verdict on the field of honour. So I framed this idea
into a proposition.
But it was not accepted. The code was in the way again. I
proposed rifles ; then double-barrelled shot-guns ; then Colt's navy
revolvers. These being all rejected, I reflected a while, and sarcas-
tically suggested brick-bats at three-quarters of a mile. I always hate
to fool away a humorous thing on a person who has no perception of
THE CHALLENGE ACCEPTED.
A TRAMP ABROAD.
55
humour ; and it filled me with bitterness when this man went soberly
away to submit the last proposition to his principal.
He came back presently and said his principal was charmed with
the idea of brick-bats at three-quarters of a mile, but must decline on
account of the danger to disinterested parties passing between. Then
I said —
1 Well, I am at the end of my string now.
Perhaps you would be good enough to suggest a
weapon ? Perhaps you have even had one in your
mind all the time ? '
His countenance brightened, and he said with
alacrity —
1 Oh, without doubt, monsieur ! '
So he fell to hunting in his pockets — pocket after
pocket, and he had plenty of them — muttering all
the while, ' Now, what could I have done with
them ? '
At last he was successful. He fished out of his
vest pocket a couple of little things which I carried
to the light and ascertained to be pistols. They
were single-barrelled and silver-mounted, and very
dainty and pretty. I was not able to speak for emotion. I silently
hung one of them on my watch-chain, and returned the other. My
companion in crime now unrolled a postage-stamp containing several
cartridges, and gave me one of them. I asked if he meant to signify
by this that our men were to be allowed but one shot apiece. He
replied that the French code permitted no more. I then begged
him to go on and suggest a distance, for my mind was growing weak
and confused under the strain which had been put upon it. He named
sixty-five yards. I nearly lost my patience. I said —
1 Sixty-five yards, with these instruments ? Squirt-guns would be
deadlier at fifty. Consider, my friend, you and I are banded toge-
ther to destroy life, not make it eternal.'
But with all my persuasions, all my arguments, I was only able to
get him to reduce the distance to thirty-five yards ; and even this
concession he made with reluctance, and said with a sigh —
f I wash my hands of this slaughter ; on your head be it.'
A SEARCH.
56
A TRAMP ABROAD.
There was nothing for me but to go home to my old lion-hearc
and tell my humiliating story. When I entered, M. Gambetta was
laying his last lock of hair upon the altar. He sprang towards me,
exclaiming —
1 You have made the fatal arrangements — I see it in your eye ! '
* I have.'
His face paled a trifle, and he
leaned upon the table for support.
He breathed thick and heavily for
a moment or two, so tumultuous
were his feelings ; then he hoarse-
ly whispered —
he swooned ponderously. ' The weapon, the weapon !
Quick ! what is the weapon ? '
1 This ! ' and I displayed that silver-mounted thing. He cast
but one glance at it, then swooned ponderously to the floor.
When he came to, he said mournfully —
1 The unnatural calm to which I have subjected myself has told
upon my nerves. But away with weakness ! I will confront my fate
like a man and a Frenchman.'
He rose to his feet, and assumed an attitude which for sublimity
has never been approached by man, and has seldom been surpassed by
statues. Then he said, in his deep bass tones —
1 Behold, I am calm, I
am ready, reveal to me the
distance.'
' Thirty-five yards.' . .
. I could not lift him up,
of course; but I rolled
him over, and poured
water down his back. He
presently came to, and
said —
' Thirty-five yards — without a rest ? But why ask ? Since murder
was that man's intention, why should he palter with small details ? But
mark you one thing : in my fall the world shall see how the chivalry
of France meets death.'
I ROLLED HIM OVER.
A TRAMP ABROAD. 57
After a long silence he asked —
1 Was nothing said about that man's family standing up with him,
as an offset to my bulk ? But no matter ; I would not stoop to
make such a suggestion ; if he is not noble enough to suggest it him-
self, he is welcome to this advantage, which no honourable man
would take.'
He now sank into a sort of stupor of reflection, which lasted some
minutes ; after which he broke silence with —
1 The hour — what is the hour fixed for the collision ? '
' Dawn, to-morrow.'
He seemed greatly surprised, and immediately said — ■
1 Insanity ! I never heard of such a thing. Nobody is abroad at
such an hour.'
' That is the reason I named it. Do you mean to say you want
an audience ? '
1 It is no time to bandy words. I am astonished that M. Fourtou
should ever have agreed to so strange an innovation. Go at once
and require a later hour.'
I ran downstairs, threw open the front door, and almost plunged
into the arms of M. Fourtou's second. He said —
I I have the honour to say that my principal strenuously objects to
the hour chosen, and begs you will consent to change it to half-past
nine.'
' Any courtesy, sir, which it is in our power to extend is at the
service of your excellent principal. We agree to the proposed change
of time.'
1 1 beg you to accept the thanks of my client.' Then he turned
to a person behind him, and said, ' You hear, M. Noir, the hour is
altered to half-past nine.' Whereupon M. Noir bowed, expressed
his thanks, and went away. My accomplice continued —
' If agreeable to you, your chief surgeons and ours shall pro-
ceed to the field in the same carriage, as is customary.'
* It is entirely agreeable to me, and I am obliged to you for men-
tioning the surgeons, for I am afraid I should not have thought
of them. How many shall I want ? I suppose two or three will be
enough.'
1 Two is the customary number for each party. I refer to " chief"
58 A TRAMP ABROAD.
surgeons ; but considering the exalted positions occupied by .our clients,
it will be well and decorous that each of us appoint several consulting
surgeons, from among the highest in the profession. These will come
in their own private carriages. Have you engaged a hearse ? '
' Bless my stupidity, I never thought of it ! I will attend to it
right away, I must seem very ignorant to you ; but you must try
to overlook that,
because I have
never had any ex-
perience of such a
swell duel as this
before. I have had
a good deal to do
the oxe i hired. w ith duels on the
Pacific coast, but I see now that they were crude affairs. A hearse —
sho ! we used to leave the elected lying around loose, and let anybody
cord them up and cart them off that wanted to. Have you anything
further to suggest ? '
1 Nothing, except that the head undertakers shall ride together, as is
usual. The subordinates and mutes will go on foot, as is also usual.
I will see you at eight o'clock in the morning, and we will then
arrange the order of the procession. I have the honour to bid you
a good day.'
I returned to my client, who said, ' Very well ; at what hour is the
engagement to begin?'
' Half-past nine.'
'Very good indeed. Have you sent the fact to the newspapers?'
1 Sir! If after our long and intimate friendship you can for a
moment deem me capable of so base a treachery '
1 Tut, tut ! What words are these, my dear friend ? Have I
wounded you ? Ah, forgive me ; I am overloading you with labour.
Therefore go on with the other details, and drop this one from your
list. The bloody-minded Fourtou will be sure to attend to it. Or
I myself — yes, to make certain, I will drop a note to my journalistic
friend, M. Noir.'
1 Oh, come to think, you may save yourself the trouble ; that other
second has informed M. Noir.'
THE MARCH TO THE FIELD.
A TRAMP ABROAD. 61
1 H'm ! I might have known it. It is just like that Fourtou, who
always wants to make a display.'
At half-past nine in the morning the procession approached the
field of Plessis-Piquet in the following order : first came our carriage
— nobody in it but M. Gambetta and myself; then a carriage con-
taining M. Fourtou and his second; then a carriage containing two
poet-orators who did not believe in God, and these had MS. funeral
orations projecting from their breast-pockets; then a carriage con-
taining the head surgeons and their cases of instruments ; then eight
private carriages containing consulting surgeons ; then a hack contain-
ing a coroner ; then the two hearses ; then a carriage containing the
head undertakers; then a train of assistants and mutes on foot;
and after these came plodding through the fog a long procession of
camp followers, police, and citizens generally. It was a noble turn-out,
and would have made a fine display if we had had thinner weather.
There was no conversation. I spoke several times to my principal,
but I judge he was not aware of it, for he always referred to his
note-book and muttered absently, ' I die that France may live.'
Arrived on the field, my fellow-second and I paced off the thirty-
five yards, and then drew lots for choice of position. This latter was
but an ornamental ceremony, for all choices were alike in such weather.
These preliminaries being ended, I went to my principal and asked him
if he was ready. He spread himself out to his full width, and said in
a stern voice, ' Eeady ! Let the batteries be charged.'
The loading was done in the presence of duly constituted wit-
nesses. We considered it best to perform this delicate service with the
assistance of a lantern, on account of the state of the weather. We
now placed our men.
At this point the police noticed that the public had massed them-
selves together on the right and left of the field ; they therefore begged
a delay, while they should put these poor people in a place of safety.
The request was granted.
The police having ordered the two multitudes to take positions
behind the duellists, we were once more ready. The weather growing
still more opaque, it was agreed between myself and the other second
that before giving the fatal signal we should each deliver a loud
whoop to enable the combatants to ascertain each other's whereabouts.
62
A TRAMP ABROAD.
1 now returned to my principal, and was distressed to observe that
he had lost a good deal of his spirit. I tried my best to hearten
him. I said, ' Indeed, sir, things are not as bad as they seem. Con-
sidering the character of the weapons, the limited number of shots
allowed, the generous distance, the impenetrable solidity of the fog, and
the added fact that one of the combatants is one-eyed and the other
cross-eyed and near-sighted, it seems to me that this conflict need not
necessarily be fatal. There are chances that both, of you may survive.
Therefore cheer up ; do not be down-hearted.'
This speech had so good an effect that my principal immediately
stretched forth his hand and said, ' I am myself again ; give me the
weapon.'
I laid it, all lonely and forlorn, in the centre of the vast solitude of
his palm. He gazed at it and shuddered. And still mournfully
contemplating it, he murmured, in a broken voice —
' Alas ! it is not death I dread, but mutilation.'
I heartened him once more, and
with such success that he present-
ly said, 'Let the tragedy begin.
Stand at my back; do not desert
me in this solemn hour, my friend.'
I gave him my promise. I
now assisted him to point his
pistol towards the spot where I
judged his adversary to be stand-
ing, and cautioned him to listen
well and further guide himself by
my fellow-second's whoop. Then
I propped myself against M. Gambetta's back, and raised a rousing
1 Whoop-ee ! ' This was answered from out the far distances of the
fog, and I immediately shouted —
1 One, — two, — three, — fire ! '
Two little sounds like spit 1 spit ! broke upon my ear, and in the
same instant I was crushed to the earth under a mountain of flesh.
Bruised as I was, I was still able to catch a faint accent from above, to
this effect —
v/f-S
'hAV^.
THE POST OF DANGER.
A TRAMP ABROAD. 63
1 1 die for . . . for . . . perdition take it, what is it I die for ? . . .
oh, yes, — France ! I die that France may live ! '
The surgeons swarmed around with their probes in their hands,
and applied their microscopes to the whole area of ^L Gambetta's
person, with the happy result of finding nothing in tfhe nature of a
wound. Then a scene ensued which was in every way gratifying and
inspiriting.
The two gladiators fell upon each other's necks, with floods of
proud and happy tears ; that other second embraced me ; the surgeons,,
the orators, the undertakers, the police, everybody embraced, every-
THE RECONCILIATION.
body congratulated, everybody cried, and the whole atmosphere was
filled with praise and with joy unspeakable.
It seemed to me then that I would rather be a hero of a French
duel than a crowned and sceptred monarch.
When the commotion had somewhat subsided, the body of surgeons
held a consultation, and after a good deal of debate decided that with
proper care and nursing there was reason to believe that I would
survive my injuries. My internal hurts were deemed the most
serious, since it was apparent that a broken rib had penetrated my
left lung, and that many of my organs had been pressed out so far
64
A TRAMP ABROAD.
to one side or the other of where they belonged, that it was doubt-
ful if they would ever learn to perform their functions in such re-
mote and unaccustomed localities. They then set my left arm in two
places, pulled my right hip into its socket again, and re-elevated my
nose. I was an object of great interest, and even admiration ; and
many sincere and warm-hearted persons had themselves introduced to
me, and said they were proud to know the only man who had beeD
hurt in a French duel in forty years.
I was placed in an ambulance at the very head of the procession ;
and thus with gratifying eclat I was marched into Paris, the most con-
spicuous figure in that great spectacle, and deposited at the hospital.
'(^^Sprpjm
AN OBJECT OF ADM1KATI0N.
The Cross of the Legion of Honour has been conferred upon me.
However, few escape that distinction.
Such is the true version of the most memorable private conflict of
the age.
I have no complaints to make against anyone. I acted for myself,
and I can stand the consequences. Without boasting, I think I may
say I am not afraid to stand before a modern French duellist, but as
long as I keep in my right mind I will never consent to stand behind
one again.
A TRAMP ABROAD
CHAPTER IX.
One day we took the train and went down to Mannheim to see ; King
Lear ' played in German. It was a mistake. We sat in our seats
three whole hours, and never understood anything but the thunder and
lightning ; and even that was reversed to suit German ideas, for the
thunder came first and the lightning followed after.
The behaviour of the audience was perfect. There were no rust-
lings, or whisperings, or other little disturbances ; each act was
listened to in silence, and the applauding was done after the eurtain
was down. The doors opened at half-past four, the play began promptly
at half-past five, and within two minutes afterwards all who were
coming were in their seats, and quiet reigned. A German gentleman
in the train had said that a Shakespearian play was an appreciated
treat in Germany, and that we should find the house filled. It was
true ; all the six tiers were filled, and remained so to the end — which
suggested that it is not only balcony people who like Shakespeare
in Germany, but those of the pit and the gallery too.
Another time, we went to Mannheim and attended a shivaree
— otherwise an opera — the one called 'Lohengrin.' The banging and
slamming and booming and crashing were something beyond belief.
The racking and pitiless pain of it remains stored up in my memory
alongside the memory of the time that 1 had my teeth fixed. There
were circumstances which made it necessary for me to stay through the
four hours to the end, and I stayed ; but the recollection of that long,
dragging, relentless season of suffering is indestructible. To have to
endure it in silence, and sitting still, made it all the harder. I was in
a railed compartment with eight or ten strangers, of the two sexes, and
this compelled repression ; yet at times the pain was so exquisite that
I could hardly keep the tears back. At those times, as the howling
F
66
A TRA3IP ABROAD.
WAGNER.
and wailings and shriekings of the singers, and the ragings and roarings
and explosions of the vast orchestra, rose higher and higher, and wilder
and wilder, and fiercer and
fiercer, I could have cried if I
had been alone. Those stran-
gers would not have been sur-
prised to see a man do such a
thing who was being gradually
skinned, but they would have
marvelled at it here, and made
remarks about it no doubt,
whereas there was nothing in
the present case which was an
advantage over being sMnned.
There was a wait of half an
hour at the end of the first act,,
and I could have gone out and
rested during that time, but I could not trust myself to do it, for I felt
that I should desert and stay out. There was another wait of half an
hour towards nine o'clock, but I had gone
through so much by that time that I had
no spirit left, and so had no desire but to
be let alone.
I do not wish to suggest that the rest of
the people there were like me, for indeed
they were not. Whether it was that they
naturally liked that noise, or whether it was
that they had learned to like it 'by getting
used to it, I did not at that time know ; but
they did like it, — this was plain enough.
While it was going on they sat and looked
as rapt and grateful as cats do when one
strokes their backs; and whenever the curtain fell they rose to their
feet, in one solid mighty multitude, and the air was snowed thick with
waving handkerchiefs, and hurricanes of applause swept the place.
This was not comprehensible to me. Of course there were many
people there who were not under compulsion to stay ; yet the tiers
A TRAMP ABROAD.
07
ROARING.
were as full at the close as they had been at the beginning. This
showed that the people liked it.
It was a curious sort of a
play. In the matter of costumes
and scenery it was fine and
showy enough ; but there was
not much action. That is to
say, there was not much really
done, it was only talked about ;
and always violently. It was
what one might call a narrative
play. Everybody had a narra-
tive and a grievance, and none
were reasonable about it, but all
in an offensive and ungovern-
able state. There was little of
that sort of customary thing
where the tenor and the soprano stand down by the footlights, warbling,
with blended voices, and keep holding out their arms towards each
other and drawing them back and spreading both hands over first one
t U :.nd then the other with a shake and
a pressure — no, it was every rioter for himself
and no blending. Each sang his indictive
narrative in turn, accompanied by the whole
orchestra of sixty instruments ; and when this
had continued for some time, and one was
hoping they might come to an understand-
ing and modify the noise, a great chorus
composed entirely of maniacs would suddenly
break forth, and then during two minutes, and
sometimes three, I lived over again all that I
had suffered the time the orphan asylum
burned down. shrieking.
We only had one brief little season of heaven and heaven's sweet
ecstasy and peace during all this long and diligent and acrimonious re-
production of the other place. This was while a gorgeous procession
of people marched around and around, in the third act, and sang the
f2
6S
A TRAMP ABROAD.
Wedding Chorus. To my untutored ear that was music — almost divine
music. While my seared soul was steeped in the healing balm of
those gracious sounds, it seemed to me that I could almost re-suffer the
torments which had gone before, in order to be so healed again.
There is where the deep ingenuity of the operatic idea is betrayed. It
deals so largely in pain that its scattered delights are prodigiously
augmented by the contrasts. A pretty air in an opera is prettier there
A CUSTOMARY THING.
than it could be anywhere else, I suppose, just as an honest man in
politics shines more than he would elsewhere.
I have since found out that there is nothing the Germans like so
much as an opera. They like it, not in a mild and moderate way,
but with their whole hearts. This is a legitimate result of habit and
education. Our nation will like the opera, too, by-and-by, no doubt.
One in fifty of those who attend our operas likes it already, perhaps,
but I think a good many of the other forty-nine go in order to learn to
A TRAMP ABROAD.
69
like it, and the rest in order to be able to talk knowingly about it.
The latter usually hum the airs while they are being sung, so that
their neighbours may perceive that
they have been to operas before.
The funerals of these do not occur
often enough.
A gentle, old-maidish person
and a sweet young girl of seven-
teen sat right in front of us that
night at the Mannheim opera.
These people talked between the
acts, and I understood them,
though I understood nothing that
was uttered on the distant stage.
At first they were guarded in their
ONE OF THE REST. ^ ^ ^ ^ ^ ^^ my
agent and me conversing
in English they dropped
their reserve, and I picked
up many of their little
confidences ; no, I mean
many of her little con-
fidences — meaning the
elder party — for the
young girl only listened,
and gave assenting nods,
but never said a word.
How pretty she was, and
how sweet she was ! I
wished she would speak.
But evidently she was
absorbed in her own
thoughts, her own young-
girl dreams, and found a
dearer pleasure in silence.
But she was not dream-
ing sleepy dreams — no, a contribution box.
70
A TRAMP ABROAD.
she was awake, alive, alert; she could not sit still a moment. She was
an enchanting study. Her gown was of a soft white silky stuff that
clung to her round young figure like a fish's skin, and it was rippled
over with the gracefullest little fringy films of lace ; she had deep,
tender eyes, with long, curved lashes ; and she had peachy cheeks, and
a dimpled chin, and such a dear little dewy rosebud of a mouth ; and
she was so dove-like, so pure, and so gracious, so sweet and bewitching.
For long hours I did mightily wish she would speak. And at last she
did ; the red lips parted, and out leaped her thought, and with such a
guileless and pretty enthusiasm too : ' Auntie, I just know I've got
five hundred fleas on me ! '
That was probably over the average. Yes, it must have been very
much over the average. The average at that time in the Grand
Duchy of Baden was forty-five to a
young person (when alone), according
to the official estimate of the Home
Secretary for that year ; the average for
older people was shifty and indetermin-
able, for whenever a wholesome young
girl came into the presence of her elders
she immediately lowered their average
and raised her own. She became a sort
of contribution-box. This dear young
thing in the theatre had been sitting
there unconsciously taking up a collec-
tion. Many a skinny old being in our
neighbourhood was the happier and the
restfuller for her coming.
In that large audience, that night,
there were eight very conspicuous people.
These were ladies who had their hats or
bonnets on. What a blessed thing it would be if a lady could make
herself conspicuous in our theatres by wearing her hat ! It is not
usual in Europe to allow ladies and gentlemen to take bonnets, hats,
overcoats, canes, or umbrellas into the auditorium, but in Mannheim
this rule was not enforced because the audiences were largely made
up of people from a distance, and among these were always a few
CUNSl-'lCLuUi
A TRAMP ABROAD.
71
timid ladies who were afraid that if they had to go into an ante-room to
get their things when the play was over, they would miss their train.
But the great mass of those who came a distance always ran the risk and
took the chances, preferring the loss of the train to a breach of good
manners and the discomfort of being unpleasantly conspicuous during a
hi retch of three or four hours.
•&VZ
A YOU.NU BEAUTY.
A TRAMP ABROAD.
CHAPTER X.
Three or four hours ! That is a long time to sit in one place, whether
one be conspicuous or not, yet some of Wagner's operas bang along f«>r
six whole hours on a stretch ! But the people sit there and enjoy it ;»ll r
and wish it would last longer. A German lady in Munich told me that
a person could not like Wagner's music at first, but must go through
the deliberate process of learning to like it — then he would have his-
sure reward ; for when he had learned to like it he would hunger for
it and never be able to get enough of it. She said that six hours of
Wagner was by no means too much. She said that this composer
had made a complete revolution in music, and was burying the old
masters one by one. And she said that Wagner's operas differed from
all others in one notable respect, and that was that they were not
merely spotted with music here and there, but were all music, from the
first strain to the last. This surprised me. I said I had attended one
of his insurrections, and found hardly any music in it except the
Wedding Chorus. She said ' Lohengrin ' was noisier than Wagner's
other operas, but that if I would keep on going to see it I would find
by-and-by that it was all music, and therefore would then enjoy it.
I could have said, ' But would you advise a person to deliberately
practise having the toothache in the pit of his stomach for a couple of
3'ears in order that he might then come to enjoy it ? ' But I reserved,
that remark.
This lady was full of the praises of the head-tenor who had per-
formed in a Wagner opera the night before, and went on to enlarge
upon his old and prodigious fame, and how many honours had been
lavished upon him by the princely houses of Germany. Here was
another surprise. I had attended that very opera, in the person of
my agent, and had made close and accurate observations. So I said —
A TRAMP ABROAD.
75
'Why, madam, my experience warrants me in stating that that
tenor's voice is not a voice at all, but only a shriek — the shriek of a
hyena.'
'That is very true,' she said; 'he cannot
sing now; it is already many years that he has
lost his voice, but in other times he sang, yes,
divinely! So whenever he comes, now, you
shall see, yes, that the theatre will not hold
the people. J aw oh I bei Gott ! his voice is
wunderschon in that past time.'
I said she was discovering to me a kindly trait
in the Germans which was worth emulating. I
said that over the water we were not quite so
generous ; that with us, when a singer had lost
his voice and a jumper had lost his legs, these
parties ceased to draw. I said I had been to the opera in Hanover once 7
and in Mannheim once, and in Munich (through my authorised agent)
once, and this large experience had nearly persuaded me that the
Germans preferred singers who couldn't sing. This was not such
a very extravagant speech either, for that burly Mannheim tenor's
praises had been the talk of all Heidelberg for a week before his
performance took place, yet his voice was like the distressing noise
which a nail makes when you screech it across a window-pane.
I said so to Heidelberg friends the next day, and they said, in the
calmest and simplest way, that that was very true, but that in earlier
times his voice had been wonderfully fine. And the tenor in Hanover
was just another example of this sort. The English-speaking German
gentleman who went with me to the opera there was brimming with
enthusiasm over that tenor. He said —
' Ach Gott ! a great man ! You shall see him. He is so celebrate
in all Germany ; and he has a pension, yes, from the Government
He not obliged to sing now, only twice every year; but if he not
sing twice each year they take him his pension away.'
Very well, we went. When the renowned old tenor appeared, I got
a nudge and an excited whisper —
Now you see him ! '
But the ' celebrate ' was an astonishing disappointment to me. If he
74 A TRAMP ABROAD.
had been behind a screen I should have supposed they were performing
a surgical operation on him. I looked at my friend. To my great
surprise he seemed intoxicated with pleasure, his eyes were dancing
with eager delight. When the curtain at last fell, he burst into the
stormiest applause, and kept it up — as did the whole house — until the
afflictive tenor had come three times before the curtain to make his bow.
While the glowing enthusiast was swabbing the perspiration from his
face, I said —
1 1 don't mean the least harm, but really, now, do you think he
can sing? '
' Him ! No ! Gott im Himmel, aber, how he has been able to sing
twenty-five years ago!' [Then pensively.] ' Ach, no, now he not
sing any more, he only cry. When he think he sing, now, he not
sing at all, no ; he only make like a cat which
is unwell.'
Where and how did we get the idea that
the Germans are a stolid, phlegmatic race ?
In truth, they are widely removed from that,
They are warm-hearted, emotional, impulsive,
enthusiastic, their tears come at the mildest
touch, and it is not hard to move them to
laughter. They are the very children of
impulse. We are cold and self-contained,
compared with the Germans. They hug
and kiss and cry and shout and dance and
sing; and where we use one loving, petting expression, they pour out
a score. Their language is full of endearing diminutives ; nothing that
they love escapes the application of a petting diminutive — neither the
house, nor the dog, nor the horse, nor the grandmother, nor any
other creature, animate or inanimate.
In the theatres at Hanover, Hamburg, and Mannheim, they had a
wise custom. The moment the curtain went up, the lights in the body
of the house went down. The audience sat in the cool gloom of a
deep twilight, which greatly enhanced the glowing splendours of the
sta^e. It saved gas, too, and people were not sweated to death.
When I saw ' King Lear ' played, nobody was allowed to see a scene
shifted ; if there was nothing to be done but slide a forest out of the
A TRAMP ABROAD. 75
way and expose a temple beyond, one did not see that forest split
itself in the middle and go shrieking away, with the accompanying
disenchanting spectacle of the hands and heels of the impelling impulse
— no, the curtain was always dropped for an instant — one heard not
the least movement behind it — but when it went up, the next instant,
the forest was gone. Even when the stage was being entirely re-set,
one heard no noise. During the whole time that ' King Lear ' was
playing, the curtain was never down two minutes at any one time. The
orchestra played until the curtain was ready to go up for the first time,
then they departed for the evening. Where the stage-waits never reach
two minutes, there is no occasion for music. I had never seen this
two-minute business between acts but once before, and that was when
the * Shaughran ' was played at Wallack's.
I was at a concert in Munich one night, the people were streaming
in, the clock-hand pointed to seven, the music struck up, and instantly
all movement in the body of the house ceased — nobody was standing,
or walking up the aisles, or fumbling with a seat, the stream of
incomers had suddenly dried up at its source. I listened undisturbed
to a piece of music that was fifteen minutes long — always expecting
some tardy ticket-holders to come crowding past my knees, and being
continuously and pleasantly disappointed — but when the last note was
struck, here came the stream again. You see, they had made those late
comers wait in the comfortable waiting-parlour from the time the music
had begun until it was ended.
It was the 'first time I had ever seen this sort of criminals denied
the privilege of destroying the comfort of a house full of their betters.
Some of these were pretty fine birds, but no matter, they had to tarry
outside in the long parlour under the inspection of a double rank of
liveried footmen and waiting-maids who supported the two walls with
their backs and held the wraps and traps of their masters and mistresses
od their arms.
We had no footmen to hold our things, and it was not permissible
to take them into the concert room ; but there were some men and
women to take charge of them for us. They gave us checks for them
and charged a fixed price, payable in advance — five cents.
In Germany they always hear one thing at an opera which has
never yet been heard in America, perhaps — I mean the closing strain
7H
A TRAMP ABROAD.
of a fine solo or duet. We always smash into it with an earthquake
of applause. The result is that we rob ourselves of the sweetest part
of the treat ; we get the whisky, but we don't get the sugar in the
bottom of the glass.
Our way of scattering applause along through an act seems to me
to be better than the Mannheim way of saving it all up till the act is
ended. I do not see how an actor can forget himself and portray hot
passion before a cold still audience. I should think he would feel
foolish. It is a pain to me to this day, to remember how that old
LATE COMERS CARED FOR.
German Lear raged and wept and howled around the stage, with never
a response from that hushed house, never a single outburst till the act
was ended. To me there was something unspeakably uncomfortable in
the solemn dead silences that always followed this old person's tremend-
ous outpourings of his feelings. I could not help putting myself in his
place — I thought I knew how sick and flat he felt during those silences,
because I remembered a case which came under my observation once,
and which — but I will tell the incident.
One evening on board a Mississippi steamboat, a boy of ten years
lay asleep in a berth — a long, slim-legged boy ; he was encased in quite
A TRAMP ABROAD.
77
a short shirt; it was the first time lie had ever made a trip on a
steamboat, and so he was troubled, and scared, and had gone to bed.
with his head filled with impending snaggings, and explosion?, and
conflagrations, and sudden death. About ten o'clock som j twenty
ladies were sitting around about the ladies' saloon, quietly reading,
sewing, embroidering, and so on, and among them sat a sweer.
benignant old dame with round spectacles on her nose and her busy
knitting-needles in her hands. Now all of a sudden, into the midsi
of this peaceful scene burst that slim-shanked boy in the brief shirt,
wild-eyed, erect-haired, and shouting, ' Fire, fire 1 jump and run, the
boat's afire, and there ain't a minute to lose ! ' All those ladies looked
Sir v/^/^p^t
EVIDENTLY DREAMING.
sweetly up and smiled, nobody stirred, the old lady pulled her spectacles
down, looked over them, and said, gently —
' But you mustn't catch cold, child. Run and put on your breast-
pin, and then come and tell us all about it.'
It was a cruel chill to give to a poor little devil's gushing vehemence.
He was expecting to be a sort of hero — the creator of a wild panic
— and here everybody sat and smiled a mocking smile, and an old
woman made fun of his bugbear. I turned and crept humbly away
— for I was that boy — and never even cared to discover whether I
had dreamed the fire or actually seen it.
I am told that in a German concert or opera they hardly ever
73 A TRAMP ABROAD.
encore a song ; that though they may be dying to hear it again, their
good breeding usually preserves them against requiring the repetition.
Kings may encore ; that is quite another matter ; it delights every-
body to see that the King is pleased ; and as to the actor encored, his
pride and gratification are simply boundless. Still, there are circum-
stances in which even a royal encore
But it is better to illustrate. The King of Bavaria is a poet, and
has a poet's eccentricities — with the advantage over all other poets of
being able to gratify them, no matter what form they may take. He
is fond of the opera, but not fond of sitting in the presence of an
audience ; therefore, it has sometimes occurred, in Munich, that when
an opera has been concluded and the players were getting off their
paint and finery, a command has come to them to get their paint and
finery on again. Presently the King would arrive, solitary and alone,
and the players would begin at the beginning and do the entire opera
over again with only that one individual in the vast solemn theatre for
audience. Once he took an odd freak into his head. High up and out
of sight, over the prodigious stage of the court theatre is a maze of
interlacing water-pipes, so pierced that, in case of fire, innumerable
little thread-like streams of water can be caused to descend ; and in
case of need, this discharge can be augmented to a pouring flood.
American managers might make a note of that. The king was sole
audience. The opera proceeded, it was a piece with a storm in it; the
mimic thunder began to mutter, the mimic wind began to wail and
sough, and the mimic rain to patter. The King's interest rose higher
and higher : it developed into enthusiasm. He cried out —
1 It is good, very good indeed ! But I will have real rain ! turn
on the water ! '
The manager pleaded for a reversal of the command ; said it would
ruin the costly scenery and the splendid costumes, but the King cried —
' No matter, no matter, I will have real rain ! Turn on the
water ! '
So the real rain was turned on and began to descend in gossamer
lances to the mimic flower beds and gravel walks of the stage. The
richly dressed actresses and actors tripped about singing bravely and
pretending not to mind it. The King was delighted — his enthusiasm
grew higher. He cried out —
a. TRAMP ABROAD.
7^
' Bravo, bravo !
More thunder ! more lightning ! turn on more
Tain
The thunder boomed, the lightning glared, the storm-winds raged,
the deluge poured down. The mimic royalty on the stage, with their
soaked satins clinging to their bodies, slopped around ankle-deep in
vater, warbling their sweetest and best, the fiddlers under the eaves of
the stage sawed away for dear life, with the cold overflow spouting
down the backs of their necks, and the dry and happy King sat in
his lofry box, and wore his gloves to ribbons applauding.
TURN ON MORE RAIN.'
' More yet ! ' cried the King ; ' more yet — let loose all the thunder,
turn on all the water ! I will hang the man that raises an umbrella ! '
When this most tremendous and effective storm that had ever been
produced in any theatre was "at last over, the King's approbation was
measureless. He cried —
1 Magnificent, magnificent ! Encore ! Do it again ! '
But the manager succeeded in persuading him to recall the encore,
ana said the company would feel sufficiently rewarded and com-
so
A TRAMP ABROAD.
plimented in the mere fact that the encore was desired by his Majesty,
without fatiguing him with a repetition to gratify their own vanity.
During the remainder of the act the lucky performers were those
■whose narts required changes of dress; the others were a soaked,
bedraggled, and uncom-
fortable lot, but in the
last degree picturesque.
The stage scenery was
ruined, trap- doors were
so swollen that they
wouldn't work for a
week afterwards, the
fine costumes were
spoiled, and no end of
minor damages were
done by that remarkable
storm.
It was a royal idea —
that storm — and royally
carried out. But ob-
serve the moderation of
the King : he did not
insist upon his encore.
If he had been a glad-
some, unreflecting
American opera audi-
ence, he probably would have had his storm repeated and repeated
until he drowned all those people.
HARRIS ATTENDING THE OPERA.
A TRAMP ABROAD.
CHAPTER XI.
The summer days passed pleasantly in Heidelberg. We had a skilled
trainer, and under his instructions we were getting our legs in the
right condition for the contemplated pedestrian tours ; we were well
satisfied with the progress which we had made in the German language, 1
and more than satisfied with what we had accomplished in Art. We had
had the best instructors in drawing and painting in Germ -,ny — Ham-
merling, Vogel, Miiller, Dietz, and Schumann. Hammerling taught us
landscape painting, Vogel taught us figure drawing, Miiller taught us to
do still-life, and Dietz and Schumann gave us a finishing course in
two specialties — battlepieces and shipwrecks. Whatever I am in Art
I owe to these men. I have something of the manner of each and all of
them ; but they all said that I had also a manner of my own, and that
it was conspicuous. They said there was a marked individuality about
my style, insomuch that if I ever painted the commonest type of a
dog, I should be sure to throw a something into the aspect of that dog
which would keep him from being mistaken for the creation of any other
artist. Secretly I wanted to believe all these kind sayings, but I could
not ; I was afraid that my masters' partiality for me, and pride in me,
biassed their judgment. So I resolved to make a test. Privately, and
unknown to anyone, I painted my great picture, ' Heidelberg Castle
Illuminated ' — my first really important work in oils — and had it hung
up in the midst of a w. lerness of oil pictures in the Art Exhibition,
with no name attach "d to it. To my great gratification it was instantly
recognised as mine. All the town flocked to see it, and people even
came from neighbouring localities to visit it. It made more stir than
any other work in the Exhibition. But the most gratifying thing of
1 See Appendix D for information concerning this fer rful tongue.
G
A TRAMP ABROAD.
o that chance strangers, passing through, who had not heard of
picture, were not only drawn to it, as by a loadstone, the moment
they entered the gallery, but always took it for a ( Turner.'
Mr. Harris was graduated in Art about the same time with myself,
and we took a studio together. We waited awhile for some orders ;
PAINTING MY GREAT PICTURE.
then as time began to drag a little, we concluded to make a pedestrian
tour. After much consideration we determined on a trip up the shores
of the beautiful Neckar to Heilbronn. Apparently nobody had ever
done that. There were ruined castles on the overhanging cliffs and
crags all the way ; these were said to have their legends, like those
on the Rhine, and, what was better still, they had never been in print.
A TRAMP ABROAD.
83
There was nothing in the books about that lovely region, it had been
neglected by the tourist, it was virgin soil for the literary pioneer.
Meantime the knapsacks, the rough walking-suits, and the stout
walking-shoes which we had ordered, were finished and brought to us.
A Mr. X. and a young Mr. Z. had agreed to go with us. We went
around one evening and bade good-bye to our friends, and afterwards
had a little farewell banquet at the hotel. We got to bed early, for
we wanted to make an early start, so as to take advantage of the cool
of the morning.
We were out of bed at break of day, feeling fresh and vigorous,
and took a hearty breakfast, then plunged down through the leafy
arcades of the Castle grounds, towards the town. What a glorious
summer morning it was, and how the flowers did pour out their frag-
rance, and how the birds did sing ! It was just the time for a tramp
through the woods and mountains.
We were all dressed
alike : broad slouch hats,
to keep the sun off; grey
knapsacks; blue army
shirts ; blue overalls ; lea-
thern gaiters buttoned tight
from knee down to ankle ;
high-quarter coarse shoes
snugly laced. Each man h<
an opera-glass, a canteen,
and a guide-book case slunu r
over his shoulder, and car-
ried an alpenstock in one
hand and a sun umbrella in
the other. Around our hats
were wound many folds of
-. ; ;'--^*'>"-'2>V, ::<. ■- — "-:'
tj-'v^^m
I' ' ^glllll
^^^^^^^^m
ISSi
pii^
111--
^^^H JBlfiK*i
^s^^=
=-^^
^^^^^^^^^^^^H
Tr^r
WHICH ANSWERED JUST AS WELL.
dyke?, and there was hardly room for us both in the cramped passage.
As she went grinding and groaning by, we perceived the secret of her
moving impulse. She did not drive herself up the river with paddles
or propeller, she pulled herself by hauling on a great chain. This chain
is laid in the bed of the river, and is only fastened at the two ends.
It is seventy miles long. It comes in over the boat's bow, passes
around a drum, and is paid out astern. She pulls on that chain, and so
drags herself up the river or down it She has neither bow nor stern,
A IB AMP ABROAD.
113
strictly speaking, for she has a long-bladed rudder on each end, and
she never turns around. She uses both rudders all the time, and they
are powerful enough to enable her to turn to the right or the left, and
steer around curves in spite of the strong resistance of the chain. I
would not have believed that that impossible thing could be done ; but
I saw it done, and therefore I know that there is one impossible thing
which can be done. What miracle will man attempt next ?
We met many big keel boats on their way up, using sails, mule
power, and profanity — a tedious and laborious business. A wire rope
led from the f oretop mast to the file of mules on the tow-path a hundred
yards ahead, and by dint of much banging and sAvearing and urging,
LIFE ON A RAPT.
the detachment of drivers managed to get a speed of two or three miles
an hour out of the mules against the stiff current. The Neckar has
always been used as a canal, and thus has given employment to a great
many men and animals; but now that this steamboat is able, with a small
crew and a bushel or so of coal, to take nine keel boats farther up the
river in one hour than thirty men and thirty mules can do it in two,
it is believed that the old-fashioned towing industry is on its death-bed.
A second steamboat began work in the Neckar three months after the
first one was put in service.
At noon we stepped ashore and bought some bottled beer, and got
eoine chickens cooked while the raft waited; then we immediately
I
fi a fo' &V?no^ij,i
J*fe^^<
BAT TJX G OX THE XECXAR.
A TRAMP ABROAD. 115
put to sea again, and had our dinner while the beer was cold and
the chickens hot. There is no pleasanter place for such a meal than a
raft that is gliding down the winding Neckar, past green meadows and
wooded hills, and slumbering villages, and craggy heights graced with
crumbling towers and battlements.
In one place we saw a nicely dressed German gentleman without any
spectacles. Before I could come to anchor he had got away. It was a
great pity. I so wanted to make a sketch of him. The captain com-
forted me for my loss, however, by saying that the man was without
any doubt a fraud who had spectacles, but kept them in his pocket in
order to make himself conspicuous.
Below Hassmersheim we passed Hornberg, Gbtz von Berlichingen's
old castle. It stands on a bold elevation 200 feet above the surface of
the river; it has high vine-clad walls inclosing trees, and a peaked
tower about 75 feet high. The steep hillside, from the castle clear
down to the water's edge, is terraced and clothed thick with grape
vines. This is like farming a mansard roof. All the steeps along that
part of the river which furnish the proper exposure, are given up to the
grape. That region is a great producer of Rhine wines. The Germans
are exceedingly fond of Rhine wines ; they are put up in tall, slender
bottles, and are considered a pleasant beverage. One tells them from
vinegar by the label.
The Hornberg hill is to be tunnelled, and the new railway will
pass under the castle.
THE CAVE OF THE SPECTRE.
Two miles below Hornberg castle is a cave in a low cliff, which
the captain of the raft said had once been occupied by a beautiful
heiress of Hornberg — the Lady Gertrude — in the old times. It was
seven hundred years ago. She had a number of rich and noble lovers
and one poor and obscure one, Sir Wendel Lobenfeld. With the
native chuckleheadedness of the heroine of romance, she preferred the
poor and obscure lover. With the native sound judgment of the
father of a heroine of romance, the Von Berlichingen of that day
shut his daughter up in his donjon keep, or his oubliette, or his
culverine, or some such place, and resolved that she should stay there
until she selected a husband from among her rich and noble lovers.
The latter visited her and persecuted her with their supplications, but
116
A TRAMP ABROAD.
LADY GERTRUDE.
without effect, for her heart was true to her poor despised Crusader,
who was fighting in the Holy Land. Finally she resolved that she would
endure the attentions of the rich
lovers no longer ; so one stormy night
she escaped and went down the river
and hid herself in the cave on the
other side. Her father ransacked
the country for her, but found not a
trace of her. As the days went by,
and still no tidings of her came, his
conscience began to torture him, and
he caused proclamation to be made
that if she were yet living and would
return, he would oppose her no
longer, she might marry whom she
would. The months dragged on, all hope forsook the old man, he ceased
from his customary pursuits and pleasures, he devoted himself to pious
works, and longed for the deliverance of death.
Now just at midnight, every night, the lost heiress stood in the mouth
of her cave, arrayed in white robes, and sang a little love ballad which
her Crusader had made for her. She judged that if he came home alive
the superstitious peasants would tell him about the ghost that sang in
the cave, and that as soon as they described the ballad he would know
that none but he and she knew that song, therefore he would suspect
that she was alive, and would come and find her. As time went on,
the people of the region became sorely distressed about the Spectre of
the Haunted Cave. It was said that ill-luck of one kind or another
always overtook anyone who had the misfortune to hear that song.
Eventually, every calamity that happened thereabouts was laid at
the door of that music. Consequently no boatman would consent to
pass the cave at night ; the peasants shunned the place, even in the
daytime.
But the faithful girl sang on, night after night, month after month,
and patiently waited; her reward must come at last. Five years
dragged by, and still, every night at midnight, the plaintive tones
floated out over the silent land, while the distant boatmen and peasants
thrust their fingers into their ears and shuddered out a prayer.
A TMAMP ABROAD.
117
And now came the Crusader home, bronzed and battle-scarred,
but bringing a great and splendid fame to lay at the feet of his bride.
The old lord of Hornberg received
him as a son, and wanted him to stay
by him and be the comfort and
blessing of his age ; but the tale of
that young girl's devotion to him and
its pathetic consequences made a
changed man of the knight. He
could not enjoy his well-earned rest.
He said his heart was broken, he
would give the remnant of his life
to high deeds in the cause of hu-
manity, and so find a worthy death
and a blessed reunion with the brave
true heart whose love had more
honoured him than all his victories
in war.
When the people heard this re-
solve of his they came and told him
there was a pitiless dragon in human
disguise in the Haunted Cave, a dread
creature which no knight had yet
been bold enough to face, and begged
him to rid the land of its desolating
presence. He said he would do it.
They told him about the song, and
when he asked what song it was, they
said the memory of it was gone, for
nobody had been hardy enough to
listen to it for the past four years and
more.
Towards midnight the Crusader
came floating down the river in a boat,
with his rusty cross-bow in his hands,
the dim reflections of the crags and trees, with his intent eyes fixed
upon the low cliff which he was approaching. As he drew nearer he
MOUTH OP THE CAVERN.
He drifted silently through
118
A TRAMP ABROAD.
discerned the black mouth of the cave. Now, — is that a white
figure ? Yes. The plaintive song begins to well forth and float away
A FATAL MISTAKE.
over meadow and river, — the crossbow is slowly raised to position, a
A CRUSADEB AND HIS LADY.
steady aim is taken, the bolt flies straight to the mark, the figure sinks
A TRAMP ABROAD. 119
down, still singing, the knight takes the wool out of his ears, and
recognises the old ballad, — too late ! Ah, if he had only not put
the wool in his ears !
The Crusader went away to the wars again, and presently fell
in battle, fighting for the Cross. Tradition says that during several
centuries the spirit of the unfortunate girl sang nightly from the cave
at midnight, but the music carried no curse with it; and although
many listened for the mysterious sounds few were favoured, since
only those could hear them who had never failed in a trust. It is
believed that the singing still continues, but it is known that nobody
has heard it during the present century.
120 A TRAMP ABROAD
CHAPTER XVL
AN ANCIENT LEGEND OF THE RHINE.
The last legend reminds one of the ' Lorelei ' — a legend of the Rhine,
There is a song called ' The Lorelei.'
Germany is rich in folk-songs, and the words and airs of several
of them are peculiarly beautiful — but ' The Lorelei ' is the people's
favourite. I could not endure it at first, but by-and-by it began to take
hold of me, and now there is no tune which I like so well.
It is not possible that it is much known in America, else I should
have heard it there. The fact that I never heard it there is evidence
that there are others in my country who have fared likewise; there-
fore, for the sake of these,' I mean to print the words and the music
in this chapter. And I will refresh the reader's memory by printing
the legend of the Lorelei too. I have it by me in the ' Legends of
the Rhine,' done into English by the wildly gifted G-arnham, Bachelor
of Arts. I print the legend partly to refresh my own memory, too,
for I have never read it before.
THE LEGEND.
Lore (two syllables) was a water nymph who used to sit on a
hi°h rock called Ley or Lei (pronounced like our word lie) in the
Rhine, and lure boatmen to destruction in a furious rapid which marred
the channel at that spot. She so bewitched them with her plaintive
songs and her wonderful beauty, that they forgot everything else to
gaze up at her, and so they presently drifted among the broken reefs
and were lost.
In those old, old times the Count Bruno lived in a great castle near
there with his son the Count Hermann, a youth of twenty. Hermann
had heard a great deal about the beautiful Lore, and had finally fallen
A TRAMP ABROAD.
121
very deeply in love with her without having yet seen her. So he
used to wander to the neighbourhood of the Lei, evenings, with his
zither and 'Express his Longing in low Singing,' as Garnham says.
On one of these occasions, 'suddenly there hovered around the top
of the rock a brightness of unequalled clearness and colour, which,
in increasing smaller circles thickened, was the enchanting figure of
the beautiful Lore.
' An unintentional cry of Joy
escaped the Youth, he let his
Zither fall, and with extended
arms he called out the name of
the enigmatical Being, who
seemed to stoop lovingly to him
and beckon to him in a friendly
manner ; indeed, if his ear did not
deceive him, she called his name
with unutterable sweet Whispers,
proper to love. Beside himself
with delight, the youth lost his
Senses and sank senseless to the
earth.'
After that he was a changed
person. He went dreaming
about, thinking only of his
fairy and caring for nought
else in the world. ' The old
Count saw with affliction this changement in his son,' whose cause
he could not divine, and tried to divert his mind into cheerful channels,
but to no purpose. Then the old Count used authority. He com-
manded the youth to betake himself to the camp. Obedience was
promised. Garnham says : —
' It was on the evening before his departure, as he wished still once
to visit the Lei and offer to the Nymph of the Rhine his Sighs, the
tones of his Zither, and his Songs. He went, in his boat, this time
accompanied by a faithful squire, down the stream. The moon shed
her silvery light over the whole Country ; the steep bank mountains
appeared in the most fantastical shapes, and the high oaks on either
THE LORELEI.
122 A TRAMP ABROAD.
side bowed their Branches on Hermann's passing. As soon as he
approached the Lei, and was aware of the surf- waves, his attendant
was seized with an inexpressible Anxiety, and he begged permission to
land ; but the Knight swept the strings of his Guitar and sang :
' Once I saw thee in dark night,
1 n supernatural Beauty bright ;
Of Light-rays -was the Figure wove,
To share its light, locked-hair strove.
' Thy Garment colour wave-dove,
By thy hand the sign of love,
Thy eyes' sweet enchantment,
Baying to me, oh ! enhancement.
' Oh, wert thou but my sweetheart,
How willingly thy love to part !
With delight I should be bound
To thy rocky house in deep ground.'
That Hermann should have gone to that place at all, was not wise ;
that he should have gone with such a song as that in his mouth was a
most serious mistake. The Lorelei did not ' call his name in unutter-
able sweet Whispers' this time. No, that song naturally worked an
instant and thorough * changement ' in her ; and not only that, but it
stirred the bowels of the whole afflicted region round about there — for
4 Scarcely had these tones sounded, everywhere there began tumult
jmd sound, as if voices above and below the water. On the Lei rose
flames, the Fairy stood above, as that time, and beckoned with her
right hand clearly and urgently to the infatuated Knight, while with
a, staff in her left she called the waves to her service. They began to
mount heavenward ; the boat was upset, mocking every exertion ; the
waves rose to the gunwale, and splitting on the hard stones, the Boat
broke into Pieces. The youth sank into the depths, but the squire
was thrown on shore by a powerful wave.'
The bitterest things have been said about the Lorelei during many
centuries, but surely her conduct upon this occasion entitles her to our
respect. One feels drawn tenderly toward her and is moved to forget
her many crimes and remember only the good deed that crowned and
•closed her career.
' The Fairy was never more seen ; but her enchanting tones hare
A TRAMP ABROAD.
123
often been heard. In the beautiful, refreshing, still nights of spring,
when the moon pours her silver light over the Country, the listening
shipper hears from the rushing of the waves, the echoing Clang of a
wonderfully charming voice, which sings a song from the crystal castle,
and with sorrow and fear he thinks on the young Count Hermann,
seduced by the Nymph.'
Here is the music and the German words by Heinrich Heine
This song has been a
favourite in Germany for
forty years, and will re-
main a favourite always,
maybe.
I have a prejudice
against people who print
things in a foreign lan-
guage and add no transla-
tion. When I am the
reader, and the author |||l|i
considers me able to do 9
the translating myself, he
pays me quite a nice compliment
— but if he would do the translat-
ing for me I would try to get along
without the compliment.
If I were at home, no doubt I
could get a translation of this poem,
but I am abroad and can't ; there-
fore I will make a translation my-
self. It may not be a good one,
for poetry is out of my line, but it
will serve my purpose — which is, to
give the un-German young girl a jingle of words to hang the tune on
until she can get hold of a good version, made by some one who is a
poet and knows how to convey a poetical thought from one language
to another.
y :r,Xry
THE LOVER'S PATE.
124
ft
1
r
.2 2^
nd dn3
d
M
TTT
rji
1
W-\a a
Air^ TO
2 »
four
Among these was my Etruscan tear-jug. I have made a litt?
sketch of it here. That thing creeping up the side is not a bug :
a hole. I bought this tear-jug of a dealer in antiquities for
hundred and fifty dollars. It is very rare. The man
said the Etruscans used to keep tears or. something in
these things, and that it was very hard to get hold
of a broken one now. I also set aside my Henri II.
plate. See sketch from my pencil ; it is in the main
correct though I think I have foreshortened one end
of it a little too much, perhaps. This is very fine and
rare; the shape is exceedingly beautiful and unusual.
It has wonderful decorations on it, but I am not able
to reproduce them. It cost more than the tear-jug, as the dealer said
there was not another plate just like it in the world. He said there
was much false Henri II. ware around, but that
the genuineness of this piece was unquestionable.
He showed me its pedigree, or its history if
you please ; it was a document which traced
this plate's movements all the way down from its
birth — showed who bought it, from whom, and
what he paid for it — from the first buyer down
to me, whereby I saw that it had gone steadily HENEI n - plate.
up from thirty-five cents to seven hundred dollars. He said that the
whole Keramic world would be informed that it was now in my pos-
session and would make a note of it, with the price paid.
I also set apart my exquisite
specimen of Old Blue China.
This is considered to be the
finest example of Chinese art now
in existence. I do not refer to-
the bastard Chinese art of modern
times, but that noble and pure
and genuine art which flourished
under the fostering and appre-
ciative care of the Emperors of
the Chung-a-Lung-Fung dyn-
asty.
0-^A
OLD BLUE CH12TA.
A TRAMP ABROAD. 163
There were Masters in those days; but alas ! it is not so now. Of
course the main preciousness of this piece lies in its colour ; it is that
old sensuous, pervading, ramifying, interpolating, transboreal blue which
is the despair of modern art. The little sketch which I have made of
this gem cannot and does not do it justice, since I have been obliged to
leave out the colour. But I've got the expression though.
However, I must not be frittering away the reader's time with
these details. I did not intend to go into any detail at all, at first, but
it is the failing of the true keramiker, or the true devotee in any
department of bric-a-brackery, that once he gets his tongue or his pen
started on his darling theme, he cannot well stop until he drops
from exhaustion. He has no more sense of the flight of time than has
any other lover when talking of his sweetheart. The very * marks ' on
the bottom of a piece of rare crockery are able to throw me into a
gibbering ecstasy; and I could forsake a drowning relative to help
dispute about whether the stopple of a departed Buon Retiro scent-
bottle was genuine or spurious.
Many people say that for a male person, bric-a-brac hunting is about
as robust a business as making doll-clothes, or decorating Japanese pots
with decalcomanie butterflies would be, and these people fling mud at
that elegant Englishman, Byng, who wrote a book called ' The Bric-
a-Brac Hunter,' and make fun of him for chasing around after what
they choose to call 'his despicable trifles;' and for 'gushing' over
these trifles ; and for exhibiting his ' deep infantile delight ' in what
they call his ' tuppenny collection of beggarly trivialities ; ' and for
beginning his book with a picture of himself, seated, in a ' sappy, self-
complacent attitude, in the midst of his poor little ridiculous bric-a-brac
junk shop.'
It is easy to say these things ; it is easy to revile us, easy to despise
us ; therefore, let these people rail on ; they cannot feel as Byng and
I feel — it is their loss, not ours. For my part I am content to be a
bric-a-bracker and a keramiker — more, I am proud to be so named.
I am proud to know that I lose my reason as immediately in the
presence of a rare jug with an illustrious mark on the bottom of it,
as if I had just emptied that jug. Very well ; I packed and stored a
part of my collection, and the rest of it I placed in the care of the Grand
m 2
164
A TRAMP ABROAD.
Ducal Museum in Mannheim, by permission. My Old Blue China
Cat remains there yet. I presented it to that excellent institution.
I had but one misfortune with my things. An egg which I had
kept back from breakfast that morning was broken in packing. It was a
great pity. I had shown it to the best connoisseurs in Heidelberg, and
they all said it was an antique. We spent a day or two in farewell
visits, and then left for Baden-Baden. We had a pleasant trip of it,
for the Ehine valley
is always lovely.
The only trouble was
that the trip was too
short. If I remember
rightly, it only occu-
pied a couple of
hours ; therefore I
judge that the dis-
tance was very little,
if any, over fifty miles.
We quitted the train
at Oos, and walked
the entire remaining
distance to Baden-
Baden, with the ex-
ception of a lift of less
than an hour which
we got on a passing
waggon, the weather
being exhaustingly
warm. We came into
town on foot.
A REAL ANTIQUE.
One of the first persons we encountered, as we walked up the
street, was the Rev. Mr. , an old friend from America — a lucky
encounter, indeed, for his is a most gentle, refined and sensitive nature,
and his company and companionship are a genuine refreshment. We
knew he had been in Europe some time, but were not at all expecting
to run across him. Both parties burst forth into loving enthusiasms,
and Rev. Mr. said —
3RIC A- BRAG SHOP.
A TRAMP ABROAD.
1G7
* I have got a brimful reservoir of talk to pour out on you, and an
•empty one ready and thirsting to receive what you have got; we will
«it up till midnight and have a good satisfying interchange, for I leave
here early in the morning.' We agreed to that, of course.
I had been vaguely conscious, for a while, of a person who was
walking in the street abreast of us. I had glanced furtively at him once
•or twice, and noticed that he was a fine, large, vigorous young fellow,
with an open, independent countenance, faintly shaded with a pale
and even almost imperceptible crop of early down, and that he was
clothed from head to heel in cool and enviable snow-white linen.
1 thought I had also noticed that his head had a sort of listening tilt
to it. Now about this time the Rev. Mr. said —
' The side -walk is hardly wide enough for three, so I will walk
behind; but keep the talk going, keep the talk going, there's no
time to lose, and you may be sure I will do my share.' He ranged
himself behind us, and straightway that stately snow-white young
fellow closed up to the side-walk alongside him, fetched him a cordial
slap on the shoulder with his broad palm, and sung out with a hearty
•cheeriness —
'Americans, for two-and-a-half and the money up ! Hey ? '
' The Reverend winced, but said mildly, —
1 Yes — we are Americans.'
' Lord love
you, you can just
bet that's what I
am, every time !
Put it there ! '
He held out his
Sahara of a palm,
and the Reverend
laid his diminutive
hand in it, and got
so cordial a shake
that we heard his
glove burst under
it.
1 Say, didn't I put you up right ?
TUT IT THERE.
1C3
A TRAMP ABROAD.
' O yes.'
* Sho ! I spotted you for my kind the minute I heard your clack.
You been over here long? '
1 About four months. Have you been over long ? '
' Long ? Well, I should say so ! Going on two years, by geeminy I
Say, are you homesick ? '
' No, I can't say that I am. Are you ? '
1 Oh, hell, yes ! ' This with immense enthusiasm.
The Reverend shrunk a little, in his clothes, and we were aware,
rather by instinct than otherwise, that he was throwing out signals of
distress to us ; but we did not interfere or try to succour him, for we
were quite happy.
The young fellow hooked his arm into the Reverend's now, with
the confiding and grateful air of a waif who has been longing for a
friend, and a sympathetic ear, and a chance to lisp once more the sweet
accents of the mother tongue — and
then he limbered up the muscles of his
mouth and turned himself loose — and
with such a relish ! Some of his
words were not Sunday-school words,
so I am obliged to put blanks where
they occur.
' Yes indeedy ! If i" ain't an
American there ain't any Americans,
that's all. And when I heard you
fellows gassing away in the good old
American language, I'm if it
wasn't . all I could do to keep from
hugging you ! My tongue's all warped
with trying to curl it around these
forsaken wind-galled nine-
jointed German words here; now I tell you it's awful good to lay it
over a Christian word once more and kind of let the old taste soak in.
I'm from Western New YorK. My name is Cholley Adams. I'm a
student, you know. Been here going on two years. I'm learning to
be a horse-doctor. I like that part of it, you know, but these
THE PARSON CAPTURED.
A TRAMP ABROAD. 169*
people, they won't learn a fellow in his own language, they make
him learn in German ; so before I could tackle the horse-doctoring I
had to tackle this miserable language.
' First-off, I thought it would certainly give me the botts, but I
don't mind it now. I've got it where the hair's short, I think ; and
dontchuknow, they made me learn Latin, too. Now between you and
me, I wouldn't give a for all the Latin that was ever jabbered;
and the first thing I calculate to do when I get through, is to just sit
down and forget it. 'Twont take me long, and I don't mind the time,
anyway. And I tell you what! the difference between school teaching
over yonder and school-teaching over here — sho ! We don't know
anything about it ! Here you've got to peg and peg and peg, and
there just ain't any let-up — and what you learn here, you've got to
know, dontchuknow — or else you'll have one of these
spavined, spectacled, ring-boned, knock-kneed old professors in your
hair. I've been heVe long enough, and I'm getting blessed tired of it,
mind I tell you. The old man wrote me that he was coming over
in June, and said he'd take me home in August, whether I was done
with my education or not, but durn him, he didn't come ; never said
why; just sent me a hamper of Sunday-school books, and told me to be
good, and hold on a while. I don't take to Sunday-school books r
dontchuknow — I don't hanker after them when I can get pie — but I
read them, anyway, because whatever the old man tells me to do,
that's the thing that I'm a-going to do, or tear something you know. I
buckled in and read all of those books, because he wanted me to ;
but that kind of thing don't excite me; I like something hearty.
But I'm awful homesick, I'm homesick from ear- socket to crupper,
and from crupper to hock joint; but it ain't any use, I've got to stay
here, till the old man drops the rag and gives the word — yes, sir, right
here in this country I've got to linger till the old man says
Come ! — and you bet your bottom dollar, Johnny, it ain't just as
easy as it is for a cat to have twins ! '
At the end of this profane and cordial explosion he fetched a pro-
digious ' Whoosh I ' to relieve his lungs and make recognition of the
heat, and then he straightway dived into his narrative again for
* Johnny's ' benefit, beginning, ' Well, it ain't any use talking,.
J70
A TRAMP ABROAD.
some of those old American words do have a kind of a bully swing
1o them ; a man can express himself with 'em — a man can get at what
he wants to say, dontchuknow/
When we reached our hotel and it seemed that he was about to lose
the Reverend, he showed so much sorrow, and begged so hard and so
earnestly, that the Reverend's heart was not hard enough to hold out
against the pleadings— so he went away with the parent-honouring
student, like a right Christian, and took supper with him in his lodgings
and sat in the surf-beat of his slang and profanity till near mid-
night, and then left him— left him pretty well talked out, but grateful
' clear down to his frogs,' as he expressed it. The Reverend said it had
transpired during the interview that < Cholley ' Adams's father was
an extensive dealer in horses in Western New York ; this accounted for
Cholley's choice of a profession. The Reverend brought away a
pretty high opinion of Cholley as a manly young fellow, with stuff in
him for a useful citizen ; he considered him rather a rough gem, but a
gem, nevertheless.
AFTER IiDI
A. TRAMP ABROAD. 171
CHAPTER XXI.
Baden-Baden sits in the lap of the hills, and the natural and artificial
beauties of the surroundings are combined effectively and charmingly.
The level strip of ground which stretches through and beyond the
town is laid out in handsome pleasure grounds, shaded by noble trees
and adorned at intervals with lofty and sparkling fountain -jets. Thrice
a day a fine band makes music in the public promenade before the
Conversation-House, and in the afternoons and evenings that locality
is populous with fashionably dressed people of both sexes, who march
back and forth past the great music stand and look very much bored,
though they make a show of feeling otherwise. It seems like a rather
aimless and stupid existence. A good many of these people are there
for a real purpose, however; they are racked with rheumatism, and
they are there to stew it out in the hot baths. These invalids looked
melancholy enough, limping about on their canes and crutches, and
apparently brooding over all sorts of cheerless things. People say that
Germany, with her damp stone houses, is the home of rheumatism. If
that is so, Providence must have foreseen that it would be so, and
therefore filled the land with these healing baths. Perhaps no other
country is so generously supplied with medicinal springs as Germany.
Some of these baths are good for one ailment, some for another;
and again, peculiar ailments are conquered by combining the individual
virtues of several different baths. For instance, for some forms of
disease the patient drinks the native hot water of Baden-Baden, with
a spoonful of salt from the Carlsbad springs dissolved in it. That is not
a dose to be forgotten right away.
They don't sell this hot water ; no, you go into the great Trinkhalle,
and stand around, first on one foot and then on the other, while two
or three young girls sit pottering at some sort of lady-like sewing work
172
A TRAMP ABROAD.
in your neighbourhood and can't seem to see you — polite as three-dollar
clerks in government offices.
By-and-by oner
o£ these rises pain-
f ul ly , and
'stretches'; —
stretches fists and
body heavenward
till she raises her
heels from the floor,
at the same time
refreshing herself
with a yawn of such
comprehensivene s s
that the bulk of her
face disappears be-
hind her upper lip,
and one is able to-
see how she is con-
structed inside-
then she slowly
closes her cavern,
brings down her
fists and her heels,
comes languidly for-
ward, contemplates
you contemptu-
ously, draws you a
glass of hot water
and sets it down
where you can get
a comprehensive yaws. it by reaching for
it. You take it and say —
' How much ? ' and she returns you, with elaborate indifference,
a beggar's answer —
1 Nach Beliebe (what you please).'
This thing of using the common beggar's trick and the common
A TRAMP ABROAD. 173
beggar's shibboleth to put you on your liberality when you were ex-
pecting a simple straightforward commercial transaction, adds a little
to your prospering sense of irritation. You ignore her reply, and ask
again —
1 How much ? '
And she calmly, indifferently, repeats —
' Nach Beliebe:
You are getting angry, but you are trying not to show it; you
resolve to keep on asking your question till she changes her answer, or
at least her annoy ingly indifferent manner. Therefore, if your case
be like mine, you two fools stand there, and without perceptible emo-
tion of any kind, or any emphasis on any syllable, you look blandly
into each other's eyes, and hold the following idiotic conversation —
1 How much ? '
' Nach Beliebe.'
1 How much ? '
< Nach Beliebe. 1
« How much?'
1 Nach Beliebe. 1
* How much ? '
« Nach Beliebe.*
1 How much ? '
' Nach Beliebe.'
4 How much ? '
< Nach Beliebe.'
I do not know what another person would have done, but at this
point I gave it up ; that cast-iron indifference, that tranquil con-
temptuousness, conquered me, and I struck my colours. Now I
knew she was used to receiving about a penny from manly people
who care nothing about the opinions of scullery maids, and about
tuppence from moral cowards; but I laid a silver twenty-five -cent
piece within her reach and tried to shrivel her up with this sarcastic
speech —
1 If it isn't enough, will you stoop sufficiently from your official
dignity to say so ? '
She did not shrivel. Without deigning to look at me at all, she
languidly lifted the coin and bit it! — to see if it was good. Then
174
A TRAMP ABROAD.
she turned her back and placidly waddled to her former roost again,
tossing the money into
/^^t~ >^i*-- ./-v. an open till as she went
along. She was victor
to the last, you see.
I have enlarged upon
P the ways of this girl be-
cause they are typical;
her manners are the man-
ners of a goodly number
of the Baden-Baden
shopkeepers. The shop-
keeper there swindles
you if he can, and insults
you whether he succeeds
testing the coin. in swindling you or not.
The keepers of baths also
take great and patient pains to insult you. The frowsy woman who
sat at the desk in the lobby of
the great Friederichsbad and
sold bath tickets, not only in-
sulted me twice every day,
with rigid fidelity to her great
trust, but she took trouble
enough to cheat me out of a
shilling, one day, to have fairly
entitled her to ten. Baden-
Baden's splendid gamblers are
gone, only her microscopic
knaves remain.
An English gentleman who
had been living there severa
years said —
' If you could disguise you
nationality, you would not find
any insolence here. These
shopkeepers detest the English
and despise the Americans;
BEAUTY AT THE BATH.
A TRAMP ABROAD. 17C
they are rude to both, more especially to ladies of your nationality
and mine. If these go shopping without a gentleman or a man servant,
they are tolerably sure to be subjected to petty insolences — insolences
of manner and tone rather than word, though words that are hard to
bear are not always wanting^ I know of an instance where a shop-
keeper tossed a coin back to an American lady with the remark, snap-
pishly uttered, " We don't take French money here." — And I know
of a case where an English lady said to one of these shopkeepers,
" Don't you think you ask too much for this article ? " and he replied
with the question, " Do you think you are obliged to buy it ? "
However, these people are not impolite to Russians or Germans. And
as to rank, they worship that, for they have long been used to generate
and nobles. If you wish to see to what abysses servility can descend,
present yourself before a Baden-Baden shopkeeper in the character of
a Russian prince.'
It is an inane town, filled with sham, and petty fraud, and snobbery,
but the baths are good. I spoke with many people, and they were all
agreed in that. I had had twinges of rheumatism unceasingly during
three years, but the last one departed after a fortnight's bathing there,
and I have never had one since. I fully believe I left my rheumatism
in Baden-Baden, Baden-Baden is welcome to it. It was little, but it
was all I had to give. I would have preferred to leave something
that was catching, but it was not in my power.
There are several hot springs there, and during two thousand years
they have poured forth a never-diminishing abundance of the healing
water. This water is conducted in pipes to the numerous bath-houses,
and is reduced to an endurable temperature by the addition of cold
water. The new Friederichsbad is a very large and beautiful building,
and in it one may have any sort of bath that has ever been invented,
and with all the additions of herbs and drugs that his ailment may
need or that the physician of the establishment may consider a useful
thing to put into the water. You go there, enter the great door, get
a bow graduated to your style and clothes from the gorgeous portier,
and a bath- ticket and an insult from the frowsy woman for a quarter,
she strikes a bell, and a serving-man conducts you down a long hall
and shuts you into a commodious room which has a washstand r
a mirror, a bootjack, and a sofa in it, and there you undress at your
leisure.
176
A TRAMP ABROAD.
The room is divided by a great curtain. You draw this curtain
aside, and find a large white marble bath-tub, with its rim sunk to
the level of the floor, and with three white marble steps leading down
into it. This tub is full of water, which is as clear as crystal, and is
tempered to 28° Reaumur (about 95° Fahrenheit). Sunk into the floor,
by the tub, is a covered copper box which contains some warm towels
and a sheet. You look fully as white as an angel when you are stretched
-out in that limpid bath. You remain in it ten minutes the first time,
-and afterwards increase the duration from day to day, till you reach
twenty-five or thirty minutes. There you stop. The appointments
of the place are so luxurious, the benefit so marked, the price so
IN THE BATH.
moderate, and the insults so sure, that you very soon find yourself
adoring the Friederichsbad and infesting it.
We had a plain, simple, unpretenf? »g, good hotel in Baden-Baden —
the Hotel de France— and alongsid my room I had a giggling, cack-
ling, chattering family who always went to bed just two hours after
me and always got up just two hours ahea jf me. But that is common
in German hotels ; the people generally O o to bed long after eleven
and get up long before eight. The partitions convey sound like a
drumhead, and everybody knows it ; but no matter, a German family
who are all kindness and consideration in the daytime make apparently
no effort to moderate their noises for your benefit at night. They will
sing, laugh, and talk loudly, and bang furniture around in the most
A TRAMP ABROAD.
177
pitiless way. If you knock on your wall appealingly, they will quiet
down and discuss the matter softly amongst themselves for a moment
then, like the mice, they fall to persecuting you again, and as vigorously
as before. They keep cruelly late and early hours, for such noisy folk.
Of course when one begins to find fault with foreign people's ways,
he is very likely to get a reminder to look nearer home, before he
gets far with it. I open my note-book to see if I can find some more
information of a valuable nature about Baden-Baden, and the first
thing I fall upon is this :
Baden-Baden (no date). — Lot of vociferous Americans at breakfast
this morning. Talking at everybody, while pretending to talk among
themselves. On their first travels, manifestly. Showing off. The
usual signs— airy, easy-going references to grand distances and foreign
places. ' Well, good-bye, old fellow, if I don't run across you in Italy,
you hunt me up in London before you sai
The next item
which I find in my
note-book is this one :
1 The fact that a
band of 6,000 Indians
are now murdering
our frontiersmen at
their impudent lei-
sure, and that we are
only able to send 1,200
soldiers against them,
is utilised here to dis-
courage emigration to
America. The com-
mon people think the
Indians are in New
Jersey.'
This is a new and
peculiar argument
against keeping our jeesey Indians.
army down to a ridiculous figure in the matter of numbers. It is
rather a striking one, too. I have not distorted the truth in saying
N
178 A TRAMP ABROAD.
that the facts in the above item, about the army and the Indians, are
made use of to discourage emigration to America. That the common
people should be rather foggy in their geography, and foggy as to
the location of the Indians, is matter for amusement, maybe, but not
of surprise.
There is an interesting old cemetery in Baden-Baden, and we
spent several pleasant hours in wandering through it and spelling out
the inscriptions on the aged tombstones. Apparently after a man has
lain there a century or two, and has had a good many people buried
on top of him, it is considered that his tombstone is not needed by
him any longer. I judge so from the fact that hundreds of old grave-
stones have been removed from the graves and placed against the inner
walls of the cemetery. What artists they had in the old times ! They
chiselled angels and cherubs and devils and skeletons on the tomb-
stones in the most lavish and generous way — as to supply — but curiously
grotesque and outlandish as to form. It is not always easy to tell
which of the figures belong among the blest, and which of them among
the opposite party. But there was an inscription, in French, on one of
those old stones which was quaint and pretty, and was plainly not the
work of any other than a poet. It was to this effect : —
HERE
REPOSES IN GOD,
CAROLINE DE CLERY,
A RELIGIEUSE OF ST. DENIS,
AGED 83 YEARS AND BLIND.
TIE LIGHT WAS RESTORED TO HER
IN BADEN, THE 5TH OF JANUARY,
1839.
We made several excursions on foot to the neighbouring villages,
over winding and beautiful roads, and through enchanting woodland
scenery. The woods and roads were similar to those at Heidelberg,
but not so bewitching. I suppose that roads and woods which are up
to the Heidelberg mark are rare in the world.
Once we wandered clear away to La Favorita Palace, which is
several miles from Baden-Baden. The grounds about the palace were
fine; the palaoe was a curiosity. It was built by a Margravine in
A TRAMP ABROAD. 179
1725, and remains as she left it at her death. TV r e wandered through
a great many of its rooms, and they all had striking peculiarities of
decoration. For instance, the walls of one room were pretty completely
covered with small pictures of the Margravine in all conceivable varieties
of fanciful costumes, some of them male.
The walls of another room were covered with grotesquely and
elaborately figured hand-wrought tapestry. The musty ancient beds
remained in the chambers, and their quilts and curtains and canopies
were decorated with curious hand- work, and the walls and ceilings
frescoed with historical and mythological scenes in glaring colours.
There was enough crazy and rotten rubbish in the building to make
the true brick- a-bracker green with envy. A painting in the dining-
hall verged upon the indelicate — but then the Margravine was herself
a trifle indelicate.
It is in every way a wildly and picturesquely decorated house,
and brimful of interest as a reflection of the character and tastes of that
rude bygone time.
In the grounds, a few rods from the palace, stands the Margravine's
•chapel, just as she left it — a coarse wooden structure, wholly barren
•of ornament. It is said that the Margravine would give herself up to
debauchery and exceedingly fast living for several months at a time,
and then retire to this miserable wooden den and spend a few months
in repenting and getting ready for another good time. She was a
devoted Catholic, and was perhaps quite a model sort of a Christian as
Christians went then, in high life.
Tradition says she spent the last two years of her life in the strange
•den I have been speaking of, after having indulged herself in one final,
triumphant, and satisfying spree. She shut herself up there, without
company, and without even a servant, and so abjured and forsook the
world. In her little bit of a kitchen she did her own cooking ; she
wore a hair shirt next the skin, and castigated herself with whips — these
aids to grace are exhibited there yet. She prayed and told her beads,
in another little room before a waxen Virgin niched in a little box
against the wall ; she bedded herself like a slave.
In another small room is an unpainted wooden table, and behind
it sit half-life-size waxen figures of the Holy Family, made by the
very worst artist that ever lived, perhaps, and clothed in gaudy, flimsy
N2
ISO A TRAMP ABROAD,
drapery. 1 The Margravine used to bring her meals to this table and
dine ivitJi the Holy Family. What an idea that was ! What a grisly
spectacle it must have been ! Imagine it ! Those rigid, shock headed
figures, with corpsy complexions and fishy glass eyes, occupying one
side of l he table in the constrained attitudes and dead fixedness that
distinguish all men that are born of wax, and this wrinkled, smouldering
old fire-eater occupying the other side, mumbling her prayers and
NOT PARTICULARLY SOCIABLE.
munching her sausages in the ghostly stillness and shadowy indistinct-
ness of a winter twilight. It makes one feel crawly even to think of it.
In this sordid place, and clothed, bedded, and fed like a pauper, this
strange princess lived and worshipped during two years, and in it she
died. Two or three hundred years ago, this would have made the
poor den holy ground ; and the church would have set up a miracle-
factory there and made plenty of money out of it. The den could be
moved into some portions of France and made a good property even now.
1 The Saviour was represented as a lad of about fifteen years of age. This
figure had lost one eye.
A TRAMP ABROAD. 181
CHAPTER XXII.
From Baden-Baden we made the customary trip into the Black Forest,
We were on foot most of the time. One cannot describe those noble
woods, nor the feeling with which they inspire him. A feature of the
feeling, however, is a deep sense of contentment ; another feature of it
is a buoyant, boyish gladness ; and a third and very conspicuous feature
of it is one's sense of the remoteness of the work-day world and his
entire emancipation from it and its affairs.
Those woods stretch unbroken over a vast region ; and everywhere
they are such dense woods, and so still, and so piney and fragrant.
The stems of the trees are trim and straight, and in many places all
the ground is hidden for miles under a thick cushion of moss of a vivid
green colour, with not a decayed or ragged spot in its surface, and not
a fallen leaf or twig to mar its immaculate tidiness. A rich cathedral
gloom pervades the pillared aisles ; so the stray flecks of sunlight that
strike a trunk here and a bough yonder are strongly accented, and
when they strike the moss they fairly seem to burn. But the weirdest
effect, and the most enchanting, is that produced by the diffused light
of the low afternoon sun ; no single ray is able to pierce its way in,
then, but the diffused light takes colour from moss and foliage, and
pervades the place like a faint, green-tinted mist, the theatrical fire of
fairyland. The suggestion of mystery and the supernatural which
haunts the forest at all times is intensified by this unearthly glow.
We found the Black Forest farmhouses and villages all that the
Black Forest stories have pictured them. The first genuine specimen
which we came upon was the mansion of a rich farmer and member of
the Common Council of the parish or district. He was an important
personage in the land, and so was his wife also, of course. His daughter
was the ' catch ' of the region, and she may be already entering into
182
A TRAMP ABROAD.
immortality as the heroine of one of Auerbach's novels for all I know.
We shall see, for if he puts her in I shall recognise her by her Black
Forest clothes, and her burned complexion, her plump figure, her fat
hands, her dull expression, her gentle spirit, her generous feet, her
bonnetless head, and the plaited tails of hemp-coloured hair hanging
down her back.
BLACK FOREST GRANDEE.
The house was big enough for an hotel ; it was a hundred feet long
and fifty wide, and ten feet high, from ground to eaves; but from the
eaves to the comb of the mighty roof was as much as forty feet, or
maybe even more. This roof was of ancient mud-coloured straw
thatch a foot thick, and was covered all over, except in a few trifling
A TRAMP ABROAD.
183
spots, with a thriving and luxurious growth of green vegetation, mainly
moss. The mossless spots were places where repairs had been made
GRANDEE S DAUGHTER.
by the insertion of bright new masses of yellow straw. The eaves
projected far down, like sheltering, hospitable wings. Across the gable
that fronted the road, and about ten feet above the ground, ran a nar-
184 A TRAMP ABROAD.
row porch, with a wooden railing ; a row of small windows filled with
very small panes looked upon the porch. Above were two or three
other little windows, one clear up under the sharp apex of the roof.
Before the ground-floor door was a huge pile of manure. The door of
a second- story room on the side of the house was open, and occupied
by the rear elevation of a cow. "Was this probably the drawing-room ?
All of the front half of the house from the ground up seemed to be
occupied by the people, the cows, and the chickens, and all the rear
half by draught animals and hay. But the chief feature all around this
house was the big heaps of manure.
We became very familiar with the fertiliser in the Forest. We
fell unconsciously into the habit of judging of a man's station in life by
this outward and eloquent sign. Sometimes we said, l Here is a poor
devil, this is manifest.' When we saw a stately accumulation, we said,
1 Here is a banker.' When we encountered a country seat surrounded
by an Alpine pomp of manure, we said, ' Doubtless a duke lives here.'
The importance of this feature has not been properly magnified in
the Black Forest stories. Manure is evidently the Black Forester's
main treasure — his coin, his jewel, his pride, his Old Master, his
keramics, his bric-a-brac, his darling, his title to public consideration,
envy, veneration, and his first solicitude when he gets ready to make
his will. The true Black Forest novel, if it is ever written, will be
skeletoned somewhat in this way : —
SKELETON FOR BLACK FOREST NOVEL.
Rich old farmer, named Huss. Has inherited great wealth of
manure, and by diligence has added to it. It is double-starred in
' Baedeker.' l The Black Forest artist paints it — his masterpiece. The
King comes to see it. Gretchen Huss, daV^hter and heiress. Paul
Hoch, young neighbour, suitor for Gretchen's hand — ostensibly ; he
really wants the manure. Hoch has a good many cart-loads of the
Black Forest currency himself, and therefore is a good catch ; but he is
sordid, mean, and without sentiment, whereas Gretchen is all senti-
ment and poetry. Hans Schmidt, young neighbour, full of sentiment,
full of poetry, loves Gretchen ; Gretchen loves him. But he has no
1 When Baedeker's guide-books mention a thing and put two stars * *
after it, it means ' well worth visiting.' — M. T.
A TRAMP ABROAD.
185
RICH OLD HUSS.
manure. Old Huss forbids him the house. His heart breaks, he goes
away to die in the woods, far from the
cruel world — for he says, bitterly,
1 What is man, without manure ? '
[Interval of six months.]
Paul Hoch comes to old Huss and
says, 'I am at last as rich as you re-
quired — come and view the pile.' Old
Huss views it, and says, ' It is sufficient
— take her and be happy' — meaning
Gretchen.
[Interval of two weeks.]
Wedding party assembled in old
Huss's drawing-room; Hoch placid and content, Gretchen weeping
over her hard fate. Enter old Huss's head book-keeper. Huss says
fiercely, l I gave you three weeks to find out why your books don't
balance, and to prove that you are not a defaulter ; the time is up —
find me the missing property or you
go to prison as a thief.' Book-
keeper: ' I have found it.' 'Where?'
Book-keeper (sternly — tragically) :
* In the bridegroom's pile ! — toehold
the thief — see him blench and
tremble ! ' [Sensation.] Paul
Hoch : ' Lost, lost ! ' — falls over -—.r
the cow in a swoon and is hand- V^
cuffed. Gretchen : ' Saved ! ' Falls ^/C/
over the calf in a swoon of joy,
but is caught in the arms of Hans
Schmidt, who springs in at that mo-
ment. Old Huss: 'What, you
here, varlet ? unhand the maid and
quit the place.' Hans (still supporting the insensible girl) : ' Never 1
Cruel old man, know that I come with claims which even you cannot
despise.'
Huss : ' What, you ? Name them.'
Hans : ' Then listen. The world had forsaken me, I forsook the
GRETCHEN.
186
A TRAMP ABROAD.
PAUL HOCH.
world. I wandered in the solitude of the forest, longing for death, but
finding none. I fed upon roots, and in my bitterness I dug for the
bitterest, loathing the sweeter kind. Digging, three days agone, I
struck a manure mine ! — a Golconda, a
limitless Bonanza of solid manure ! I can
buy you all, and have mountain ranges
of manure left ! Ha ha ! now thou smilest
a smile ! ' [Immense sensation.] Exhibi-
tion of specimens from the mine. Old
Huss, enthusiastically : ' Wake her up,
shake her up, noble young man, she is
yours ! ' Wedding takes place on the spot ;
book-keeper restored to his office and emo-
luments ; Paul Hoch led off to gaol. The
Bonanza King of the Black Forest lives to
a good old age, blessed with the love of his
wife and of his twenty-seven children, and the still sweeter envy of
everybody around.
We took our noon meal of fried trout one day at the Plow inn, in
a very pretty village (Ottenhofen), and then went into the public
room to rest and smoke. There we
found nine or ten Black Forest grandees
assembled around a table. They were
the Common Council of the parish.
They had gathered there at eight o'clock
that morning to elect a new member,
and they had now been drinking beer
four hours at the new member's expense.
They were men of fifty or sixty years
of age, with grave, good-natured faces,
and were all dressed in the costume
made familiar to us by the Black Forest
stories : broad, round-topped, black felt
hats, with the brims curled up all
around ; long red waistcoats with large
coats w T ith the waists up between the
HANS SCHMIDT.
up
metal buttons, black alpaca
shoulders. There
were no
speeches, there was but little talk, there were no frivolities ; the Council
A TRAMP ABROAD.
187
filled themselves gradually, steadily, but surely, with beer, and con-
ducted themselves with sedate decorum, as became men of position, men
of influence, men of manure.
We had a hot afternoon tramp up the valley, along the grassy bank
of a rushing stream of clear water, past farmhouses, water-mills, and no
end of wayside crucifixes, and saints, and Virgins. These crucifixes,
etc., are set up in memory of departed friends by survivors, and are
almost as frequent as telegraph poles are in other lands.
ELECTING- A NEW MEMBER.
We followed the carriage road, and had our usual luck ; we tra-
velled under a beating sun, and always saw the shade leave the shady
places before we could get to them. In all our wanderings we seldom
managed to strike a piece of road at its time for being shady. We
had a particularly hot time of it on that particular afternoon, and with
no comfort but what we could get out of the fact that the peasants at
work away up on the steep mountain sides above our heads were even
1S8 A TRAMP ABROAD.
worse off than we were. By-and-by it became impossible to endure
the intolerable glare and heat any longer ; so we struck across the ravine
and entered the deep cool twilight of the forest, to hunt for what the
guide-book called the ' old road.'
We found an old road, and it proved eventually to be the right
one, though we followed it at the time with the conviction that it was
the wrong one. If it was the wrong one there could be no use in
hurrying, therefore Ave did not hurry, but sat down frequently on the
soft moss, and enjoyed the restful quiet and shade of the forest soli-
tudes. There had been distractions in the carriage road — school
children, peasants, wagons, troops of pedestrianising students from all
over Germany — but we had the old road all to ourselves.
Now and then, while we rested, we watched the laborious ant at his
work. I found nothing new in him — certainly nothing to change my
opinion of him. It seems to me that in the matter of intellect the ant
must be a strangely overrated bird. During many summers now I
have watched him, when I ought to have been in better business, and
I have not yet come across a living ant that seemed to have any more
sense than a dead one. I refer to the ordinary ant, of course ; I have
had no experience of those wonderful Swiss and African ones which
vote, keep drilled armies, hold slaves, and dispute about religion.
Those particular ants may be all that the naturalist paints them, but I
am persuaded that the average ant is a sham. I admit his industry, of
course ; he is the hardest-working creature in the world — when any-
body is looking — but his leather-headedness is the point I make against
him. He goes out foraging, he makes a capture, and then what does
he do ? Go home ? No ; he goes anywhere but home. He doesn't
know where home is. His home may be only three feet away ; no
matter, he can't find it. He makes his capture, as I have said ; it is
generally something which can be of no sort of use to himself or any-
body else ; it is usually seven times bigger than it ought to be ; he
hunts out the awkwardest place to take hold of it ; he lifts it bodily
up in the air by main force, and starts — not towards home, but in
the opposite direction ; not calmly and wisely, but with a frantic
haste which is wasteful of his strength ; he fetches up against a pebble,
and, instead of going around it, he climbs over it backwards, dragging
his booty aftei him, tumbles down on the other side, jumps up in a
A TRAMP ABROAD.
18$)
passion, kicks the dust off his clothes, moistens his hands, grabs his pro-
perty viciously, yanks it this way, then that, shoves it ahead of him a
'UtK Tx
*****
~_\^
OVERCOMING OBSTACLES.
moment, turns tail and lugs it after him another moment, gets madder
and madder, then presently hoists it into the air and goes tearing away
in an entirely new direction ; comes to a weed ; it never occurs to him
to go around it. No ; he must climb it, and he does climb it, dragging
his worthless property to the top — which is as bright a thing to do as
it would be for me to carry a sack of flour from Heidelberg to Paris
by way of Strasburg steeple. When he gets up there he finds that that
is not the place ; takes a cursory glance at the scenery, and either
climbs down again or tumbles down, and starts off once more — as
usual, in a new direction. At the end of half an hour he fetches up
within six inches of the place he started from, and lays his burden down.
Meantime, he has been over all the ground for two yards around, and
climbed all the weeds and pebbles he came across. Now he wipes the
sweat from his brow, strokes his limbs, and then marches aimlessly
off, in as violent a hurry as ever. He traverses a good deal of zig-zag
country, and by-and-by stumbles on his same booty again. He does
not remember to have ever seen it before ; he looks around to see
-jtralM
-^# v
ife-
FRIENDS.
which is not the way home, grabs his bundle, and starts. He goes
through the same adventures he had before ; finally stops to rest, and
190 A TRAMP ABROAD.
a friend comes along. Evidently the friend remarks that a last year's
grasshopper leg is a very noble acquisition, and inquires where he got it.
Evidently the proprietor does not remember exactly where he did get
it, but thinks he got it ' around here somewhere.' Evidently the friend
contracts to help him freight it home. Then, with a judgment pecu-
liarly antic (pun not intentional), they take hold of opposite ends of
that grasshopper leg and begin to tug with all their might in opposite
directions. Presently they take a rest, and confer together. They
decide that something is wrong, they can't make out what. Then they
go at it again, just as before. Same result. Mutual recriminations
follow. Evidently each accuses the other of being an obstructionist.
They warm up, and the dispute ends in a fight. They lock them-
selves together and chew each other's jaws for a while ; then they
roll and tumble on the ground till one loses a horn or a leg and has to
haul off for repairs. They make up and go to work again in the same
old insane way, but the crippled ant is at a disadvantage ; tug as he
may, the other one drags off the booty and him at the end of it. In-
stead of giving up, he hangs on, and gets his shins bruised against
every obstruction that comes in the way. By-and-by, when that grass-
hopper leg has been dragged all over the same old ground once more,
it is finally dumped at about the spot where it originally lay. The
two perspiring ants inspect it thoughtfully and decide that dried grass-
hopper legs are a poor sort of property after all, and then each starts
off in a different direction to see if he can't find an old nail or some-
thing else that is heavy enough to afford entertainment and at the same
time valueless enough to make an ant want to own it.
There in the Black Forest, on the mountain side, I saw an ant go
through with such a performance as this with a dead spider of fully ten
times his own weight. The spider was not quite dead, but too far
gone to resist. He had a round body the size of a pea. The little
ant— observing that I was noticing — turned him on his back, sunk his
fangs into his throat, lifted him into the air, and started vigorously
off with him, stumbling over little pebbles, stepping on the spider's legs
and tripping himself up, dragging him backwards, shoving him bodily
ahead, dragging him up stones six inches high instead of going around
them, climbing weeds twenty times his own height and jumping from
their summits — and finally leaving him in the middle of the road to
A TRAMP ABROAD.
191
be confiscated by any other fool of an ant that wanted him. I measured
the ground which this ass traversed, and arrived at the conclusion
that what he had accomplished inside of twenty minutes would consti-
tute some such job as this — relatively speaking — for a man ; to wit :
to strap two eight hundred pound horses together, carry them eighteen
hundred feet, mainly over (not around) boulders averaging six feet
high, and in the course of the journey climb up and jump from the top
of one precipice like Niagara, and three steeples, each a hundred and
twenty feet high ; and then put the horses down, in an exposed place,
without anybody to watch them, and go off to indulge in some other
idiotic miracle for vanity's sake.
PROSPECTING.
Science has recently discovered that the ant does not lay up any-
thing for winter use. This will knock him out of literature to some
extent. He does not work, except when people are looking, and only
then when the observer has a green, naturalistic look, and seems to be
taking notes. This amounts to deception, and will injure him for the
Sunday schools. He has not judgment enough to know what is good
to eat from what isn't. This amounts to ignorance, and will impair
the world's respect for him. He cannot stroll around a stump and
find his way home again. This amounts to idiocy, and once the
damaging fact is established, thoughtful people will cease to look up
to him, the sentimental will cease to fondle him. His vaunted industry
192 A TRAMP ABROAD.
is but a vanity and of no effect, since he never gets home with anything
he starts with. This disposes of the last remnant of his reputation,
and wholly destroys his main usefulness as a moral agent, since it will
make the sluggard hesitate to go to him any more. It is strange
beyond comprehension that so manifest a humbug as the ant has been
able to fool so many nations and keep it up so many ages without
being found oat.
The ant is strong, but we saw another strong thing, where we had
not suspected the presence of much muscular power before. A toad-
stool — that vegetable which springs to full growth in a single night —
had torn loose and lifted a matted mass of pine needles and dirt of
twice its own bulk into the air, and supported it there, like a column
supporting a shed. Ten thousand toadstools, with the right purchase,
could lift a man, I suppose. But what good would it do ?
All our afternoon's progress had been up hill. About five or half-
past we reached the summit, and all of a sudden the dense curtain of
the forest parted, and we looked down into a deep and beautiful
gorge and out over a wide panorama of wooded mountains with their
summits shining in the sun and their glade-furrowed sides dimmed with
purple shade. The gorge under our feet — called AHerheiligen — afforded
room in the grassy level at its head for a cosy and delightful human
nest, shut away from the world and its botherations, and consequently
the monks of the old times had not failed to spy it out ; and here were
the brown and comely ruins of their church and convent to prove that
priests had as fine an instinct seven hundred years ago in ferreting
out the choicest nooks and corners in a land as priests have to-day.
A big hotel crowds the ruins a little now, and drives a brisk trade
with summer tourists. We descended into the gorge and had a supper
which would have been very satisfactory if the trout had not been
boiled. The Germans are pretty sure to boil a trout or anything else
if left to their own devices. This is an argument of some value in
support of the theory that they were the original colonists of the wild
islands off the coast of Scotland. A schooner laden with oranges was
wrecked upon one of those islands a few years ago, and the gentle
savages rendered the captain such willing assistance that he gave them
as many oranges as they wanted. Next dciy he asked them how they
liked them. They shook their heads and said —
A IB AMP ABROAD. 193
1 Baked, they were tough ; and even boiled, they warn't things for a
(hungry man to hanker after.'
We went down the glen after supper. It is beautiful — a mixture
of sylvan loveliness and craggy wildness. A limpid* torrent goes
whistling down the glen, and toward the foot of it winds through a
narrow cleft between lofty precipices and hurls itself over a succession
of falls. After one passes the last of these he has a backward glimpse
at the falls which is very pleasing — they rise in a seven-stepped stair-
way of foamy and glittering cascades, and make a picture which is
as charming as it is unusual.
194 A TRAMP ABROAD.
CHAPTER XXIII
We were satisfied that we could walk to Oppenau in one day, now
that we were in practice, so we set out next morning after breakfast
determined to do it. It was all the way down hill, and we had the
loveliest summer weather for it. So we set the pedometer, and then
stretched away on an easy, regular stride, down through the cloven
forest, drawing in the fragrant breath of the morning in deep refresh-
ing draughts, and wishing we might never have anything to do for ever
but walk to Oppenau, and keep on doing it, and then doing it over
again.
Now the true charm of pedestrianism does not lie in the walk-
ing, or in the scenery, but in the talking. The walking is good to-
time the movement of the tongue by, and to keep the blood and the
brain stirred up and active ; the scenery and the woodsy smells are
good to bear in upon a man an unconscious and unobtrusive charm
and solace to eye and soul and sense ; but the supreme pleasure comes
from the talk. It is no matter whether one talks wisdom or nonsense,
the case is the same ; the bulk of the enjoyment lies in the wagging
of the gladsome jaw and the flapping of the sympathetic ear.
And what a motley variety of subjects a couple of people will
casually rake over in the course of a day's tramp ! There being no
constraint, a change of subject is always in order, and so a body is not
likely to keep pegging at a single topic until it grows tiresome. We
discussed everything we knew, during the first fifteen or twenty minutes,
that morning, and then branched out into the glad, free boundless realm
of the things we were not certain about.
Harris said that if the best writer in the world once got the slovenly
habit of doubling up his ' have's ' he could never get rid of it while
A TRAMP ABROAD.
195
he lived. That is to say, if a man gets the habit of saying, ' I should
have liked to have known more about it,* instead of saying simply
and sensibly, ' I should have liked to know more about it,' that man's
disease is incurable. Harris said that this sort of lapse is to be found in
every copy of every newspaper that has ever been printed in English,
and in almost all of our books. He said he had observed it in Kirk-
ham's grammar and in Macaulay. Harris believed that milk-teeth are
commoner in men's mouths than those ' doubled-up have's.' l
That changed the subject to dentistry. I said I believed the average
man dreaded tooth-pulling more than amputation, and that he would
yell quicker under the former operation than he would under the
GENERAL HOWL.
1 < I do not know that there have not been moments in the course of the
present session when I should have been very glad to have accepted the pro-
posal of my noble friend, and to have exchanged parts in some of our evenings
of work.'— From a speech of the English Chancellor of the Exchequer, August
1879.
02
196 A TRAMP ABROAD.
latter. The philosopher Harris said that the average man would not
yell in either case if he had an audience. Then he continued : —
i When our brigade first went into camp on the Potomac we used
to be brought up standing, occasionally, by an ear-splitting howl of
anguish. That meant that a soldier was getting a tooth pulled in a
tent. But the surgeons soon changed that ; they instituted open-air
dentistry. There never was a howl afterwards — that is, from the man
who was having the tooth pulled. At the daily dental hour there
would always be about 500 soldiers gathered together in the neigh-
bourhood of that dental chair waiting to see the performance — and
help; and the moment the surgeon took a grip on the candidate's
tooth, and began to lift, every one of those 500 rascals would clap his
hand to his jaw and begin to hop around on one leg and howl with all
the lungs he had ! It was enough to raise your hair to hear that varie-
gated and enormous unanimous caterwaul burst out ! With so big and
so derisive an audience as that, a sufferer wouldn't emit a sound though
you pulled his head oft". The surgeons said that pretty often a patient
was compelled to laugh, in the midst of his pangs, but that they had
never caught one crying out, after the open-air exhibition was insti-
tuted.'
Dental surgeons suggested doctors, doctors suggested death, death
suggested skeletons — and so, by a logical process, the conversation
melted out of one of these subjects and into the next, until the topic
of skeletons raised up Nicodemus Dodge out of the deep grave in my
memory where he had lain buried and forgotten for twenty-five years.
When I was a boy in a printing office in Missouri, a loose-jointed, long-
legged, tow-headed, jeans-clad, countrified cub of about sixteen lounged
in one day, and without removing his hands from the depths of his
trousers pockets, or taking off his faded ruin of a slouch hat, whose
broken brim hung limp and ragged about his eyes and ears like a bug-
eaten cabbage leaf, stared indifferently around, then leaned his hip
against the editor's table, crossed his mighty brogans, aimed at a distant
fly from a crevice in his upper teeth, laid him low, and said with
composure —
' Whar's the boss ? '
' I am the boss,' said the editor, following this curious bit of
architecture wonderingly along up to its clock-face with his eye.
A TRAMP ABROAD.
19?
1 Don't want anybody fur to learn the business, 't aint likely ? '
1 Well, I don't know. Would you like to learn it ? '
' Pap's so po' he cain't run rne no mo', so want to git a show somers
if I kin, 'tain't no diffunce what — I'm strong and hearty, and I don't
turn my back on no kind of work, hard nur soft.'
' Do you think you would like to learn the printing business ? '
' Well, I don't re'ly k'yer a durn what I do learn, so's I git a chance
fur to make my way. I'd
jist as soon learn print'n '*&%
's anything.'
* Can you read ? '
' Yes — niiddlinV
1 Write ? '
i Well, I've seed people
could lay over me thar.'
1 Cipher ? '
' Not good enough to
keep store, I don't reckon,
but up as fur as twelve-
times-twelve I ain't no
slouch. 'Tother side of
that is what gits me.'
' Where is your
home ? '
1 I'm f m old Shelby.'
' What's your father's
religious denomination ? '
1 Him ? 0, he's a blacksmith.'
1 No, no — I don't mean his trade,
tion?'
' — I didn't understand you befo'. He's a Freemason.'
1 No — no, you don't get my meaning yet. What I mean is, does
he belong to any church ? '
1 Now you're talkin' ! Couldn't make out what you was a tryin'
to get through yo' head no way. B'long to a church ! Why, boss,
he's ben the pizenest kind of a Free-will Babtis' for foi ty year. They
ain't no pizener ones 'n' what he is. Mighty good man, pap is.
SEEKING A SITUATION.
What's his religious denomina-
198 A TRAMP ABROAD.
Everybody says that. If they said any diffrunt they wouldn't say
it whar i" wuz — not much they wouldn't.'
* What is your own religion ? '
1 Well, boss, you've kind o' got me thar — and yit you hain't got
me so mighty much, nuther. I think 't if a feller he'ps another
feller when he's in trouble, and don't cuss, and don't do no mean things,
nur noth'n' he ain' no business to do, and don't spell the Savior's name
with a little g, he ain't runnin' no resks — he's about as saift as if he
b'longed to a church.'
' But suppose he did spell it with a little g — what then ? '
' Well, if he done it a-purpose, I reckon he wouldn't stand no chance
— he oughtn't to have no chance, anyway, I'm most rotten certain 'bout
that.'
' What is your name ? '
' Nicodemus Dodge.'
'I think maybe you'll do, Nicodemus. We'll give you a trial,
anyway.
' All right.'
' When would you like to begin ? '
1 Now.'
So within ten minutes after we had first glimpsed this nondescript
he was one of us, and with his coat off and hard at it.
Beyond that end of our establishment which was furthest from
the street was a deserted garden, pathless, and thickly grown with
the bloomy and villanous 'jimpson' weed and its common friend
the stately sunflower. In the midst of this mournful spot was a
decayed and aged little ' frame ' house, with but one room, one window,
and no ceiling — it had been a smoke-house a generation before. Nico-
demus was given this lonely and ghostly den as a bedchamber.
The village smarties recognised a treasure in Nicodemus, right
away — a butt to play jokes on. It was easy to see that he was incon-
ceivably green and confiding. George Jones had the glory of perpe-
trating the first joke on him ; he gave him a cigar with a fire-cracker in
it and winked to the crowd to come ; the thing exploded presently
and swept away the bulk of Nicodemus's eyebrows and eyelashes. He
simply said —
4 1 consider them kind of seeg'yars dangersome ' — and seemed to
A TRAMP ABROAD.
199
suspect nothing. The next evening Nicodemus waylaid George and
poured a bucket of ice-water over him.
One day, while Nicodemus was in swimming, Tom McElroy ' tied '
his clothes. Nicodemus made a bonfire of Tom's, by way of retali-
ation.
A third joke was played upon Nicodemus, a day or two later — he
walked up the middle aisle of the village church, Sunday night, with
STANDING GUARD.
a staring handbill pinned between his shoulders. The joker spent
the remainder of the night, after church, in the cellar of a deserted
house, and Nicodemus sat on the cellar door till toward breakfast time
to make sure that the prisoner remembered that if any noise was made
some rough treatment would be the consequence. The cellar had two
200
A TRAMP ABROAD.
feet of stagnant water in it, and was bottomed with six inches of soft
mud.
But I wander from the point. It was the subject of skeletons that
brought this boy back to my recollection. Before a very long time
had elapsed, the village smarties began to feel an uncomfortable con-
sciousness of not having made a very shining success out of their
attempts on the simpleton from * old, Shelby.' Experimenters grew
scarce and chary. Now the young doctor came to the rescue. There
was delight and applause when he proposed to scare Nicodemus to
death, and explained how he was going to do it. He had a noble new
skeleton — the skeleton of the late and only local celebrity, Jimmy
Finn, the village drunkard — a grisly piece of property which he had
bought of Jimmy Finn himself, at auction, for fifty dollars, under
great competition, when Jimmy lay very sick in the tan-yard a fort-
night before his death. The fifty dollars had gone promptly for whisky,,
and had considerably hurried up the change of ownership in the skeleton.
The doctor would put Jimmy Finn's skeleton in Nicodemus's bed !
-5*^ ,.„ This was done — about half-
s?^ "^j,,^ past ten in the evening. About
'z&k ; vf Nicodemus's usual bedtime —
I midnight — the village jokers
came creeping stealthily through
the jimpson weeds and sun-
flowers toward the lonely frame
den. They reached the window
and peeped in. There sat the
long-legged pauper, on his bed,
in a very short shirt, and no-
thing more ; he was dangling
his legs contentedly back and
forth, and wheezing the music
of * Camptown Races ' out of a
paper-overlaid comb which he
was pressing against his mouth ;
by him lay a new jewsharp, a
new top, a solid india-rubber ball, a handful of painted marbles, five
pounds of ' store ' candy, and a well-gnawed slab of gingerbread as big
RESULT OF A JOKE.
A TRAMP ABROAD.
201
and as thick as a volume of sheet music. He had sold the skele-
ton to a travelling quack for three dollars, and was enjoying the
result !
Just as we had finished talking about skeletons and were drift-
ing into the subject of fossils, Harris and I heard a shout, and
glanced up the steep hillside. We saw men and women standing
away up there looking frightened, and there was a bulky object tumbling
and floundering down the steep slope toward us. We got out of the
way, and when the object landed in the road it proved to be a boy.
He had tripped and fallen, and there was nothing for him to do but
trust to luck and take what might come.
When one starts to roll «, \%\^' ir \
down a place like that there %X \j\ w^P5^§^ Y^W^"'
is no stopping till the bottom %S "^ \ \\>, \8f
f\
is reached. Think of people
farming on a slant which is
so steep that the best you ^|
can say of it — if you want " "
DESCENDING A FARM.
to be fastidiously accurate — is, that it is
a little steeper than a ladder and not
quite so steep as a mansard roof. But
that is what they do. Some of the
little farms on the hillside opposite Hei-
delberg were stood up ' edgeways.'
The boy was wonderfully jolted up,
and his head was bleeding from cuts which it had got from small
stones on the way.
Harris and I gathered him up and set him on a stone, and by
that time the men and women had scampered down and brought
his cap.
Men, women, and children flocked out from neighbouring cottages
and joined the crowd ; the pale boy was petted, and stared at, and
commiserated, and water was brought for him to drink, and bathe his
bruises in. And such another clatter of tongues ! All who had
seen the catastrophe were describing it at once, and each trying to
talk louder than his neighbour ; and one youth of a superior genius ran
a little way up the hill, called attention, tripped, fell, rolled dowa
202 A TRAMP ABROAD.
among us, and thus triumphantly showed exactly how the thing had
been done.
Harris and I were included in all the descriptions : how we were
coming along ; how Hans Gross shouted ; how we looked up startled ;
how we saw Peter coming like a cannon-shot; how judiciously we got
out of the way, and let him come ; and with what presence of mind
we picked him up and brushed him off, and set him on a rock when
the performance was over. We were as much heroes as anybody else,
except Peter, and were so recognised ; we were taken with Peter and
the populace to Peter's mother's cottage, and there we ate bread and
cheese, and drank milk and beer with everybody, and had a most
sociable good time; and when we left we had a hand-shake all
around, and were receiving and shouting back LeV wold's until a turn
in the road separated us from our cordial and kindly new friends for
ever.
We accomplished our undertaking. At half-past eight in the
evening we stepped into Oppenau, just eleven hours and a half out
from Allerheiligen — 146 miles. This is the distance by pedometer ;
the guide-book and the Imperial Ordnance maps make it only ten
and a quarter — a surprising blunder, for these two authorities are
usually singularly accurate in the matter of distances.
A TRAMP ABROAD. 203
CHAPTER XXIV.
That was a thoroughly satisfactory walk, and the only one we were
ever to have which was all the way down hill. We took the train
next morning and returned to Baden-Baden through fearful fogs of
dust. Every seat was crowded, too, for it was Sunday, and conse-
qu3ntly everybody was taking a ' pleasure ' excursion. Hot! the sky
was an oven, and a sound one, too, with no cracks in it to let in any
air. An odd time for a pleasure excursion, certainly.
Sunday is the great day on the Continent — the free day, the happy
day. One can break the Sabbath in a hundred ways without com-
mitting any sin.
We do not work on Sunday, because the commandment forbids
it ; the Germans do not work on Sunday, because the commandment
forbids it. We rest on Sunday, because the commandment requires it ;
the Germans rest on Sunday, because the commandment requires it.
But in the definition of the word ' rest ' lies all the difference. With
us, its Sunday meaning is, stay in the house and keep still ; with the
Germans its Sunday and week-day meaning seems to be the same — rest
the tired part, and never mind the other parts of the frame; rest the
tired part, and use the means best calculated to rest that particular
part. Thus, if one's duties have kept him in the house all the week,
it will rest him to be out on Sunday; if his duties have required him
to read weighty and serious matter all the week, it will rest him to
read light matter on Sunday; if his occupation has busied him with
death and funerals all the week, it will rest him to go to the theatre
Sunday night and put in two or three hours laughing at a comedy ; if
he is tired with digging ditches or felling trees all the week, it will
rest him to lie quiet in the house on Sunday ; if the hand, the arm,
the brain, the tongue, or any other member is fatigued with inanition,
204
A TRAMP ABROAD.
it is not to be rested by adding a day's inanition ; but if a member
is fatigued with exertion, inanition is the right rest for it. Such is
the way in which the Germans
seem to define the word l rest,'
that is to say, they rest a mem-
ber by recreating, recuperating,
restoring its forces. But our
definition is less broad. We all
rest alike on Sunday, — by se-
cluding ourselves and keeping
still, whether that is the surest
way to rest the most of us or
not. The Germans make the
actors, the preachers, etc., work
on Sunday. We encourage the
preachers, the editors, the prin-
ters, etc., to work on Sunday,
and imagine that none of the sin
of it falls upon us ; but I do not
know how we are going to get
around the fact that if it is wrong
for the printer to work at his trade on Sunday, it must be equally
wrong for the preacher to work at his, since the commandment has
made no exception in his favour. We buy Monday morning's paper
and read it, and thus encourage Sunday printing. But I shall never do
it again.
The Germans remember the Sabbath day to keep it holy, by abstain-
ing from work, as commanded; we keep it holy by abstaining from
work as commanded, and by also abstaining from play, which is not
commanded. Perhaps we constructively break the command to rest,
because the resting we do is in most cases only a name, and not a
fact.
These reasonings have sufficed, in a measure, to mend the rent
in my conscience which I made by travelling to Baden-Baden that
Sunday. We arrived in time to furbish up and get to the English
church before services began. We arrived in considerable style, too,
for the landlord had ordered the first carriage that could be found,
KEEPING SUNDAY.
A TRAMP ABROAD.
205
since there was no time to lose, and our coachman was so splendidly
liveried that we were probably mistaken for a brace of stray dukes ;
else why were we honoured with a pew all to ourselves, away up among
the very elect at the left of the chancel ? That was my first thought.
In the pew directly in front of us sat an elderly lady, plainly and
cheaply dressed ; at her side sat a young lady with a very sweet face,
and she also was quite simply dressed ; but around us and about us
were clothes and jewels which it would do anybody's heart good to
worship in.
"■'■':" W%&,
AN OBJECT OP SYMPATHY.
I thought it was pretty manifest that the elderly lady was em-
barrassed at finding herself in such a conspicuous place arrayed in
such cheap apparel ; I began to feel sorry for her and troubled about
her. She tried to seem very busy with her prayer-book and her
responses, and unconscious that she was out of place, but I said to my-
self, ' She is not succeeding, — there is a distressed tremulousness in her
voice which betrays increasing embarrassment.' Presently the Saviour's
206 J TRAMP ABROAD.
name was mentioned, and in her flurry she lost her head completely,
and rose and curtsied, instead of making a slight nod as everybody
else did. The sympathetic blood surged to my temples and I turned
and gave those fine birds what I intended to be a beseeching look, but
my feelings got the better of me and changed it into a look which
said, ' If any of you pets of fortune laugh at this poor soul, you will
deserve to be flayed for it.' Things went from bad to worse, and I
shortly found myself mentally taking the unfriended lady under my
protection. My mind was wholly upon her, I forgot all about the
sermon. Her embarrassment took stronger and stronger hold upon
her ; she got to snapping the lid of her smelling bottle, — it made a
loud sharp sound, but in her trouble she snapped and snapped away,
unconscious of what she was doing. The last extremity was reached
when the collection-plate began its rounds ; the moderate people threw
in pennies, the nobles and the rich contributed silver, but she laid a
tAventy-mark gold piece upon the book-rest before her with a sounding
slap ! I said to myself, ' She has parted with all her little hoard to buy
the consideration of these unpitying people, — it is a sorrowful spectacle.'
I did not venture to look around this time ; but as the service closed
I said to myself, { Let them laugh, it is their opportunity ; but at the
door of this church they shall see her step into our fine carriage with
us, and our gaudy coachman shall drive her home.'
Then she rose, — and all the congregation stood while she walked
down the aisle. She was the Empress of Germany !
No, she had not been so much embarrassed as I had supposed.
My imagination had got started on the wrong scent, and that is always
hopeless; one is sure, then, to go straight on misinterpreting everything,
clear through to the end. The young lady with her Imperial Majesty
was a maid of honour, — and I had been taking her for one of her
boarders, all the time.
This is the only time I have ever had an Empress under my personal
protection ; and, considering my inexperience, I wonder I got through
with it so well. I should have been a little embarrassed myself if I
had known earlier what sort of a contract I had on my hands.
We found that the Empress had been in Baden-Baden several days.
It is said that she never attends any but the English form of church
service.
A TRAMP ABROAD. 207
I lay a-bed and read and rested from my journey's fatigues the
remainder of that Sunday, but I sent my agent to represent me at the
afternoon service, for I never allow anything to interfere with my habit
of attending church twice every Sunday.
There was a vast crowd in the public grounds that night to hear
the band play the ' Fremersberg.' This piece tells one of the old
legends of the region : how a great noble of the Middle Ages got lost
in the mountains, and wandered about with his dogs in a violent storm,
until at last the faint tones of a monastery bell, calling the monks to
a midnight service, caught his ear, and he followed the direction the
sounds came from and was saved. A beautiful air ran through the
music, without ceasing ; sometimes loud and strong, sometimes so soft
that it could hardly be distinguished, — but it was always there ; it
swung grandly along through the shrill whistling of the storm-wind,
the rattling patter of the rain, and the boom and crash of the thunder ;
it wound soft and low through the lesser sounds, the distant ones,
such as the throbbing of the convent bell, the melodious winding of
the hunter's horn, the distressed baying of his dogs, and the solemn
chanting of the monks; it rose again, with a jubilant ring, and mingled
itself with the country songs and dances of the peasants assembled in
the convent hall to cheer up the rescued huntsman while he ate his
supper. The instruments imitated all these sounds with a marvellous
exactness. More than one man started to raise hi3 umbrella when the
storm burst forth and the sheets of mimic rain came driving by ; it
was hardly possible to keep from putting your hand to your hat when
the fierce wind began to rage and shriek ; and it was not possible to
refrain from starting when those sudden and charmingly real thunder-
crashes were let loose.
I suppose the Fremersberg is very low-grade music ; I know, indeed,
that it must be low-grade music, because it so delighted me, warmed
me, moved me, stirred me, uplifted me, enraptured me, that I was full
of cry all the time, and mad with enthusiasm. My soul had never had
such a scouring out since I was born. The solemn and majestic
chanting of the monks was not done by instruments, but by men's
voices ; and it rose and fell, and rose again in that rich confusion of
warring sounds, and pulsing bells, and the stately swing of that ever-
present enchanting air, and it seemed to me that nothing but the very
208
A TRAMP ABROAD.
lowest of low-grade music could be so divinely beautiful. The great
crowd which the Fremersberg had called out was another evidence that
it was low-grade music ; for only the few are educated up to a point
where high-grade music gives pleasure. I have never heard enough
A NON-CLASSICAL STYLE.
classic music to be able to enjoy it. I dislike the opera because I want
to love it and can't.
I suppose there are two kinds of music, — one kind which one
feels, just as an oyster might, and another sort which requires a higher
faculty, a faculty which must be assisted and developed by teaching.
Yet if base music gives certain of us wings, why should we want any
other ? But Ave do. We want it because the higher and better like it.
But we want it without giving it the necessary time and trouble ; so
A TRAMP ABROAD. 209
we climb into that upper tier, that dress circle, by a lie ; we pretend
we like it. I know several of that sort of people, — and I propose to
be one of them myself when I get home with my fine European edu-
cation.
And then there is painting. What a red rag is to a bull, Turner's
1 Slave Ship ' was to me before I studied Art. Mr. Ruskin is educated
in art up to a point where that picture throws him into as mad an
ecstasy of pleasure as it used to throw me into one of rage, last year,
when I was ignorant. His cultivation enables him — and me, now — to
see water in that glaring yellow mud, and natural effects in those lurid
explosions of mixed smoke and flame, and crimson sunset glories ; it
reconciles him, — and me, now, — to the floating of iron cable-chains and
other unfloatable things ; it reconciles us to fishes swimming around
on top of the mud, — I mean the water. The most of the picture is
a manifest impossibility, — that is to say, a lie; and only rigid cultiva-
tion can enable a man to find truth in a lie. But it enabled Mr. Ruskin
to do it, and it has enabled me to do it, and I am thankful for it. A
Boston newspaper reporter went and took a look at the Slave Ship
floundering about in that fierce conflagration of reds and yellows, and
said it reminded him of a tortoise-shell cat having a fit in a platter of
tomatoes. In my then uneducated state, that went home to my non-
cultivation, and I thought here is a man with an unobstructed eye.
Mr. Ruskin would have said : This person is an ass. That is what I
would say, now. 1
However, our business in Baden-Baden this time was to join our
courier. I had thought it best to hire one, as we should be in Italy
by-and-by, and we did not know that language. Neither did he.
We found him at the hotel, ready to take charge of us. I asked him
if he was ' all fixed.' He said he was. That was very true. He had
a trunk, two small satchels, and an umbrella. I was to pay him 55
dollars a month and railway fares. On the Continent the railway fare
1 Months after this was written, I happened into the National Gallery
in London, and soon became so fascinated with the Turner pictures that
I could hardly get away from the place. I went there often, afterwards,
meaning to see the rest of the gallery, but the Turner spell was too strong ;
it could not be shaken off. However, the Turners which attracted me most
did not remind me of the Slave Ship.
P
210 A TRAMP ABROAD.
on a trunk is about the same as it is on a man. Couriers do not have
to pay any board and lodging. This seems a great saving to the tourist —
at first. It does not occur to the tourist that somebody pays that
man's board and lodging. It occurs to him by-and-by, however^ in
one of his lucid moments.
A TRAMP ABROAD.
211
CHAPTER XXV.
Next morning we left in the train for Switzerland, and reached
Lucerne about ten o'clock at night. The first discovery I made was
THADJTIOXAL CHAMOIS.
that the beauty of the lake had not been exaggerated. Within a
day or two I made another discovery. This was, that the lauded
p2
212
A TRAMP ABROAD.
chamois is not a wild goat ; that it is not a horned animal ; that it
is not shy ; that it does not avoid human society ; and that there is no
peril in hunting it. The chamois is a black or brown creature no
bigger than a mustard seed ; you do not have to go after it, it comes
after you ; it arrives in vast herds and skips and scampers all over
your body, inside your clothes; thus it is not shy, but extremely
sociable ; it is not afraid of man, on the contrary, it will attack him ;
its bite is not dangerous, but neither is it pleasant ; its activity has not
been overstated, — if you try to put your finger on it, it will skip a
thousand times its own length at one jump, and no eye is sharp
enough to see where it lights. A great deal of romantic nonsense
has been written about the Swiss chamois and the perils of hunting
it, whereas the truth is that even women and children hunt it, and
fearlessly ; indeed, everybody hunts it ; the hunting is going on all the
time, day and night, in bed and out of it. It is poetic foolishness
to hunt it with a gun ; very few people do that ; there is not one
man in a million who can hit it with a gun. It is much easier to
HUNTING CHAMOIS — THE TRUE WAY.
catch it than it is to shoot it, and only the experienced chamois
hunter can do either. Another common piece of exaggeration is
that about the ' scarcity ' of the chamois. It is the reverse of scarce.
Droves of 100,000,000 chamois are not unusual in the Swiss hotels.
Indeed, they are so numerous as to be a great pest. The romancers
always dress up the chamois hunter in a fanciful and picturesque
HUNTING CHAMOIS (AS REPORTED).
A TRAMP ABROAD. 215
costume, whereas the best way to hunt this game is to do it without
any costume at all. The article of commerce called chamois skin is
another fraud ; nobody could skin a chamois, it is too small. The
creature is a humbug in every way, and everything which has been
written about it is sentimental exaggeration. It was no pleasure to
me to find the chamois out, for he had been one of my pet illusions ;
all my life it had been my dream to see him in his native wilds
some day, and engage in the adventurous sport of chasing him from
cliff to cliff. It is no pleasure to me to expose him now, and destroy
the reader's delight in him and respect for him ; but still it must be
■done, for when an honest writer discovers an imposition it is his
simple duty to strip it bare and hurl it down from its place of honour,
do matter who suffers by it: any ether course would render him
unworthy of the public confidence.
Lucerne is a charming place. It begins at the water's edge, with
a fringe of hotels, and scrambles up and spreads itself over two or
three sharp hills in a crowded, disorderly, but picturesque way, offering
to the eye a heaped-up confusion of red roofs, quaint gables, dormer
windows, toothpick steeples, with here and there a bit of ancient
embattled wall bending itself over the ridges, worm-fashion, and here
and there an old square tower of heavy masonry. And also here and
there a town clock with only one hand — a hand which stretches straight
across the dial and has no joint in it; such a clock helps out the
picture, but you cannot tell the time of day by it. Between the
curving line of hotels and the lake is a broad avenue with lamps and
a double rank of low shade trees. The lake front is walled with
masonry like a pier, and has a railing to keep people from walking
overboard. All day long the vehicles dash along the avenue, and
nurses, children, and tourists sit in the shade of the trees, or lean on
the railing and watch the schools of fishes darting about in the clear
water or gaze out over the lake at the stately border of snow-hooded
mountain peaks. Little pleasure-steamers, black with people, arc
coming and going all the time ; and everywhere one sees young girls
and young men paddling about in fanciful row-boats, or skimming
along by the help of sails when there is any wind. The front rooms
of the hotels have little railed balconies, where one may take his
private luncheon in calm cool comfort and look down upon this busy
216
A TRAMP ABROAD.
and pretty scene and enjoy it without having to do any of the work
connected with it.
Most of the people, both male and female, are in walking costume,
and carry alpenstocks. Evidently it is not considered safe to go about
in Switzerland, even in town, without an alpenstock. If the tourist
forgets, and comes down to breakfast without his alpenstock, he goes
back and gets it, and stands it up in a corner. When his touring in
Switzerland is finished, he does not throw that broomstick away, but
lugs it home with him, to the far corners of the earth, although this
costs him more trouble and bother than a baby or a courier could.
You see, the alpenstock is his trophy ; his name is burned upon it ;
and if he has climbed
a hill, or jumped a
brook, or traversed a
brickyard with it, he
has the names of those
places burned upon it,
too. Thus it is his
regimental flag, so to
speak, and bears the
record of his achieve-
ments. It is worth
three francs when he
buys it, but a bonanza
could not purchase it
after his great deeds
have been inscribed
upon it. There are
artisans all about
Switzerland whose trade
it is to burn these things
upon the alpenstock of
the tourist. And ob-
serve, a man is respected in Switzerland according to his alpenstock.
I found I could get no attention there while I carried an unbranded
one. However, branding is not expensive, so I soon remedied that.
MAUivLKG ALPENSTOCKS.
A TRAMP ABROAD.
217
The effect upon the next detachment of tourists was very marked.
I felt repaid for my trouble. —
Half of the summer horde in Switzerland is made up of English
people ; the other half is made up of many nationalities, the Germans
leading and the Americans coming next. The Americans were not as
numerous as I had expected they would be.
The 7.30 table d'hote at the great Schweitzerhof furnished a mighty
array and variety of nationalities, but it offered a better opportunity
to observe costumes than people, for the multitude sat at immensely
long tables, and therefore the faces were mainly seen in perspective ;
but the breakfasts were served at small round tables, and then if
one had the fortune to get a table in the midst of the assemblage he
could have as many faces to study as he could desire. We used to try
to guess out the nationalities, and generally succeeded tolerably well.
Sometimes we tried to guess people's names, but that was a failure ;
that is a thing which probably re-
quires a good deal of practice. We
presently dropped it and gave our
efforts to less difficult particulars. One
morning I said —
* There is an American party.'
Harris said —
1 Yes, but name the State.'
I named one State, Harris named
another. We agreed upon one thing,
however, that the young girl with the
party was very beautiful, and v
tastefully dressed. But we disagreed
as to her age. I said she was eighteen,
Harris said she was twenty. The
dispute between us waxed warm and I finally said, with a pretence
of being in earnest —
1 Well, there is one way to settle the matter — I will go and ask her.'
Harris said, sarcastically, ' Certainly, that is the thing to do. All
you need to do is to use the common formula over here : go and say y
" I'm an American ! " Of course she will be glad to see you.'
IS SHE EIGHTEEN OR TWENTY ?
218
A TRAMP ABROAD.
Then lie hinted that perhaps there was no great danger of my
venturing to speak to her.
I said, ' I was only talking — I didn't intend to approach her, but I
see you do not know what an intrepid person I am. I am not afraid
of any woman that walks. I will go and speak to this young girl.'
The thing I had in my mind was not difficult. I meant to address
her in the most respectful way and ask her to pardon me if her strong
'i exew i wasn't mistaken.'
resemblance to a former acquaintance of mine was deceiving me; ami
when she should reply that the name I mentioned was not the name
she bore, I meant to beg pardon again, most respectfully, and retire.
There would be no harm done. I walked to her table, bowed to the
gentleman, then turned to her, and was about to begin my little speech
when she exclaimed —
1 1 knew 1 wasn't mistaken — I told John it was you ! John said
it probably wasn't, but I knew I was right. I said you would
A TRAMP ABROAD. 219
recognize me presently and come over ; and I'm glad you did, for I
shouldn't have felt much nattered if you had gone out of this room
without recognizing me. Sit down, sit down — how odd it is — you
are the last person I was ever expecting to see again.'
This was a stupefying surprise. It took my wits clear away for an
instant. However, we shook hands cordially all round, and I sat
down. But truly this was the tightest place I ever was in. I
seemed to vaguely remember the girl's face now, but I had no idea
where I had seen it before, or what name belonged with it. I
immediately tried to get up a diversion about Swiss scenery, to keep
her from launching into topics that might betray that I did not know
her, but it was of no use, she went right along upon matters which
interested her more.
1 O dear, what a night that was, when the sea washed the forward
boats away, — do you remember it ? '
* O, don't I ! ' said I, — but I didn't. I wished the sea had washed
the rudder and the smoke-stack and the captain away, — then I could
have located this questioner.
' And don't you remember how frightened poor Mary was, and
how she cried ? '
4 Indeed I do ! ' said I. ' Dear me, how it all comes back ! *
I fervently wished it would come back, — but my memory was a
blank. The wise way would have been to frankly own up ; but I
could not bring myself to do that, after the young girl had praised
me so for recognizing her ; so I went on, deeper and deeper into the
mire, hoping for a chance clue, but never getting one. The Unre-
cognizable continued, with vivacity, —
' Do you know, George married Mary, after all ? •
1 Why, no ! Did he ? '
' Indeed he did. He said he did not believe she was half as
much to blame as her father was, and I thought he was right. Didn't
you?'
i Of course he was. It was a perfectly plain case. I always said
so.'
1 Why, no you didn't ! — at least that summer.'
' O, no, not that summer. No, you are perfectly right about
that. It was the ibllow ; npf '"'■inter that I said it.'
220 A TRAMP ABROAD.
' Well, as it turned out, Mary was not in the least to blame, — it
was all her father's fault, — at least his and old Darley's.'
It was necessary to say something, — so I said —
' I always regarded Darley as a troublesome old thinj?.'
4 So he was, but then they always had a great affection for him,
although he had so many eccentricities. You remember that when
the weather was the least cold, he would try to come into the house.'
I was rather afraid to proceed. Evidently Darley was not a man,
— he must be some other kind of animal, — possibly a dog, maybe an
elephant. However, tails are common to all animals, so I ventured to
say,—
' And what a tail he had ! '
1 One ! He had a thousand ! '
This was bewildering. I did not quite know what to say, so I
only said, —
' Yes, he was rather well fixed in the matter of tails.'
* For a negro, and a crazy one at that, I should say he was,' said
she.
It was getting pretty sultry for me. I said to myself, c Is it possible
she is going to stop there, and wait for me to speak ? If she does,,
the conversation is blocked. A negro with a thousand tails is a topic
which a person cannot talk upon fluently and instructively without more
or less preparation. As to diving rashly into such a vast subject '
But here, to my gratitude, she interrupted my thought by saying —
' Yes, when it came to tales of his crazy woes, there was simply
no end to them if anybody would listen. His own quarters were
comfortable enough, but when the weather was cold, the family were
sure to have his company, — nothing could keep him out of the
house. But they always bore it kindly because he had saved Tom's
life, years before. You remember Tom ? '
' 0, perfectly. Fine fellow he was, too.'
1 Yes, he was. And what a pretty little thing his child was ! '
' You may well say that. I never saw a prettier child.'
* I used to delight to pet it and dandle it and play with it.'
* So did I.'
* You named it. What was that name? I can't call it to mind.'
It appeared to me that the ice was getting pretty thin, here. I
A TRAMP ABROAD. 221
would have given something to know what the child's sex was. How-
ever, I had the good luck to think of a name that would fit either sex,
— so I brought it out, —
' I named it Frances.'
' From a relative, I suppose ? But you named the one that died,
too, — one that I never saw. What did you call that one ? '
I was out of neutral names, but as the child was dead and she
had never seen it, I thought I might risk a name for it and trust to
luck. Therefore I said —
I I called that one Thomas Henry.'
She said, musingly, —
* That is very singular . . . very singular.'
I sat still and let the cold sweat run down. I was in a good deal
of trouble, but I believed I could worry through if she wouldn't
ask me to name any more children. I wondered where the lightning
was going to strike next. She was still ruminating over that last child's
title, but presently she said, —
i I have always been sorry you were away at the time, — I would
have had you name my child.'
' Your child ! Are you married ? '
I I have been married thirteen years.'
1 Christened, you mean.'
1 No, married. The youth by your side is my son.'
1 It seems incredible, — even impossible. 1 do not mean any harm
by it, but would you mind telling me if you are any over eighteen ?
— that is to say, will you tell me how old you are ? '
' I was just nineteen the day of the storm we were talking about.
That was my birthday.'
That did not help matters much, as I did not know the date of
the storm. I tried to think of some non-committal thing to say, to
keep up my end of the talk and render my poverty in the matter of
reminiscences as little noticeable as possible, but I seemed to be about
out of non-committal things. I was about to say, * You haven't
changed a bit since then,' — but that was risky. I thought of saying
1 You have improved ever so much since then,' — but that wouldn't
answer, of course. I was about to try a shy at the weather, for a
saving change, when the girl slipped in ahead of me and snid, —
222 A TRAMP ABROAD.
1 How I have enjoyed this talk over those happy old times, — haven't
you?'
* I never have spent such a half hour in all my life before ! ' said I,
with emotion; and I could have added, with a near approach to
truth, ' and I would rather be scalped than spend another one like
it.' I was holily grateful to be through with the ordeal, and was
about to make my good-byes and get out, when the girl said —
1 But there is one thing that is ever so puzzling to me.'
* Why, what is that ? '
1 That dead child's name. What did you say it was ? '
Here was another balmy place to be in : I had forgotten the child's
name; I hadn't imagined it would be needed again. However, I
had to pretend to know, anyway, so I said —
' Joseph William.'
The youth at my side corrected me, and said —
1 No, — Thomas Henry.'
I thanked him, — in words, — and said, with trepidation, —
' O yes, — I was thinking of another child that I named, — I have
named a great many, and I get them confused, — this one was named
Henry Thompson '
' Thomas Henry/ calmly interposed the boy.
I thanked him again, — strictly in words, — and stammered out —
1 Thomas Henry, — yes, Thomas Henry was the poor child's name.
I named him for Thomas, — er, — Thomas Carlyle, the great author,
you know, — and Henry — er, — er, Henry VIII. The parents were
very grateful to have a child named Thomas Henry.'
' That makes it more singular than ever,' murmured my beautiful
friend.
' Does it ? Why ? '
* Because when the parents speak of that child now, they always
call it Susan Amelia.'
That spiked my gun. I could not say anything. I was entirely
out of verbal obliquities ; to go further would be to lie, and that I
would not do ; so I simply sat still and suffered — sat mutely and
resignedly there, and sizzled — for I was being slowly fried to death in
my own blushes. Presently the enemy laughed a happy laugh and
said, —
A TRAMP ABROAD, 223
' I have enjoyed this talk over old times, but you have not. I
saw very soon that you were only pretending to know me, and so as I
had wasted a compliment on you in the beginning, I made up my mind
to punish you. And I have succeeded pretty well. I was glad to see
that you knew George and Tom and Darley, for I had never heard
of them before, and therefore could not be sure that you had ; and I was
glad to learn the names of those imaginary children, too. One can
get quite a fund of information out of you if one goes at it cleverly.
Mary and the storm, and the sweeping away of the forward boats,
were facts — all the rest was fiction. Mary was my sister, her full
name was Mary . Now do you remember me ? '
\ Yes,' I said, ' I do remember you now ; and you are as hard-
hearted as you were thirteen years ago in that ship, else you wouldn't
have punished me so. You haven't changed your nature nor your
person, in any way at all ; you look just as young as you did then,
you are just as beautiful as you were then, and you have transmitted
a deal of your comeliness to this fine boy. There, — if that speech
moves you any, let's fly the flag of truce, with the understanding
that I am conquered and confess it'
All of which was agreed to and accomplished, on the spot. When
I went back to Harris, I said — ■
* Now you see what a person with talent and address can do.'
1 Excuse me, I see what a person of colossal ignorance and
simplicity can do. The idea of your going and intruding on a party
of strangers, that way, and talking for half an hour; why, I never
heard of a man in his right mind doing such a thing before. What
did you say to them ? '
' I never said any harm. I merely asked the girl what her name
was.'
'I don't doubt it. Upon my word I don't. I think you were
capable of it. It was stupid in me to let you go over there, and make
such an exhibition of yourself. But you know I couldn't really
believe you would do such an inexcusable thing. What will those
people think of us ! But how did you say it ? — I mean the manner of
it. I hope you were not abrupt.'
' No, I was careful about that. I said, " My friend and I would
like to know what your name is, if you don't mind." '
224
A TRAMP ABROAD.
1 No, that was not abrupt. There is a polish about it that does
you infinite credit. And I am glad you put me in ; that was a delicate
attention which I appreciate at its full value. What did she do ? '
1 She didn't do anything in particular. She told me her name.'
' Simply told you her name. Do you mean to say she did not
show any surprise ? '
1 Well, now I come to think, she did show something ; may be it
was surprise ; I hadn't thought of that, — I took it for gratification '
' O, undoubtedly you were right ; it must have been gratification ;
it could not be otherwise than gratifying to be assaulted by a stranger
with such a question as that. Then what did you do ? '
' I offered my hand, and the party gave me a shake.'
' I saw it ! I did not believe my own eyes, at the time. Did the
gentleman say anything about cutting your throat ? '
* No, they all seemed glad to see me, as far as I could judge.'
1 And do you know, I believe they were. I think they said to
themselves, " Doubtless this curiosity has got away from his keeper
, — let us amuse ourselves with him." There is no other way of
accounting for their
facile docility. You
sat down. Did they
ask you to sit
down ? '
1 No, they did
not ask me, but I
supposed they did
not think of it.'
' You have an
unerring instinct.
What else did you
HARRIS ASTONISHED.
do ? What did you talk about ? '
' Well, I asked the girl how old she was.'
' Undoubtedly. Your delicacy is beyond praise. Go on, go on, —
don't mind my apparent misery, — I always look so when I am steeped
in a profound and reverent joy. Go on, she told you her age? '
' Yes, she told me her age, and all about her mother, and her grand-
mother, and her other relations, and all about herself.'
A TRAMP ABROAD. 225
1 Did she volunteer these statistics ? '
' No, not exactly that. I asked the questions and she answered
them.'
' This is divine. Go on, — it is not possible that you forgot to
inquire into her politics ? '
' No, I thought of that. She is a democrat, her nusband is a re-
publican, and both of them are Baptists.'
1 Her husband ? Is that child married ? '
' She is not a child. She is married, and that is her husband who is
there with her.'
' Has she any children ? '
' Yes, — seven and a half/
1 That is impossible.'
' No, sli 3 has them. She told me herself.'
' "Well, but seven and a half. How do you make out the half?
Where does the half come in ? '
1 That is a child which she had by another husband, — not this
one, but another one, — so it is a step-child, and they do not count it
full measure.'
1 Another husband ? Has she had another husband ? '
1 Yes, four. This one is number four.'
' I do not believe a word of it. tt is impossible upon its face. Is
that boy there her brother ? '
' No, that is her son. He is her youngest. He is not as old as he
looks ; he is only eleven and a half.'
' These things are all manifestly impossible. This is a wretched
business. It is a plain case: they simply took your measure, and
concluded to fill you up. They seem to have succeeded. I am glad I
am not in the mess ; they may at least be charitable enough to think
there ain't a pair of us. Are they going to stay here long ? '
1 No, they leave before noon.'
' There is one man who is deeply grateful for that. How did you
find out? You asked, I suppose?'
* No, along at first I inquired into their plans in a general way,
and they said they were going to be here a week, and make trips round
about ; but toward the end of the interview, when I said you and I
would tour around with them with pleasure, and offered to bring you
Q
226
A TRAMP ABROAD.
over and introduce you, they hesitated a little, and asked i£ you were
from the same establishment that I was. I said you were, and then
they said they had changed their mind, and considered it necessary to
start at once and visit a sick relative in Siberia.'
I Ah me, you struck the summit ! You struck the loftiest altitude
of stupidity that human effort has ever reached. You shall have a
monument of jackass's skulls as high as the Strasburg spire if you die
before I do. They wanted to know if I was from the same " establish-
ment " that you hail from, did they ? What did they mean by
" establishment ? " '
I I don't know ; it never occurred to me to ask.'
'Well, I know. They meant an asylum — an idiot asylum, do
you understand ? So they do think there's a pair of us, after all. Now,
what do you think of yourself ? '
' Well I don't know. I didn't know I was doing any harm ; I
didn't mean to do any harm. They were very nice people, and they
seemed to like me.'
Harris made some rude remarks and left for his bedroom, — to break
some furniture, he said. He was a singularly irascible man ; any
little thing would disturb his temper.
I had been well scorched by the young woman, but no matter, I took
it out of Harris. One should always ' get even ' in some way, else the
sore place will go on hurting.
DESTRUCTION.
A TRAMP ABROAD, 227
CHAPTER XXVI.
The Hofkirche is celebrated for its organ concerts. All summer long
the tourists flock to that church about six o'clock in the evening, and
pay their franc, and listen to the noise. They don't stay to hear all of
it, but get up and tramp out over the sounding stone floor, meeting late
•comers who tramp in in a sounding and vigorous way. This tramping
back and forth is kept up nearly all the time, and is accented by the
continuous slamming of the door, and the coughing and barking and
sneezing of the crowd. Meantime, the big organ is booming and
crashing and thundering away, doing its best to prove that it is the
biggest and loudest organ in Europe, and that a tight little box of a
church is the most favourable place to average and appreciate its powers
in. It is true there were some soft and merciful passages occasionally,
but the tramp-tramp of the tourists only allowed one to get fitful
glimpses of them, so to speak. Then right away the organist would
let go another avalanche.
The commerce of Lucerne consists mainly in gimcrackery of the
souvenir sort ; the shops are packed with Alpine crystals, photographs
of scenery, and wooden and ivory carvings. I will not conceal the
fact that miniature figures of the Lion of Lucerne are to be had in
them. Millions of them. But they are libels upon him, every one of
them. There is a subtle something about the majestic pathos of the
original which the copyist cannot get. Even the sun fails to get it ;
both the photographer and the carver give you a dying lion, and that
is all. The shape is right, the attitude is right, the proportions are
right, but that indescribable something which makes the Lion of
Lucerne the most mournful and moving piece of stone in the world, is
wanting.
The Lion lies in his lair in the perpendicular face of a low cliff — ■
02
228
A TRAMP ABROAD.
for he is carved from the living rock of the cliff. His size is colossal,
his attitude is noble. His head is bowed, the broken spear is sticking
in his shoulder, his protecting paw rests upon the lilies of France. Vines
hang down the cliff and wave in the wind, and a clear stream trickles
from above and empties into a pond at the base, and in the smooth
surface of the pond the Lion is mirrored, among the water lilies.
Around about are green trees and grass. The place is a sheltered,
reposeful, woodland nook, remote from noise and stir and confusion —
LION OF LUCERNE.
and all this is fitting, for lions do die in such places, and not on
granite pedestals in public squares fenced with fancy iron railings.
The Lion of Lucerne would be impressive anywhere, but nowhere so
impressive as where he is.
Martyrdom is the luckiest fate that can befall some people. Louia
XVI. did not die in his bed, consequently history is very gentle with
him ; she is charitable toward his failings, and she finds in him high
A TRAMP ABROAD. 229
virtues which are not usually considered to be virtues when they are
lodged in kings. She makes him out to be a person with a meek and
modest spirit, the heart of a female saint, and a wrong head. None of
these qualities are kingly, but the last. Taken together they make a
character which would have fared harshly at the hands of history if its
owner had had the ill luck to miss martyrdom. With the best inten-
tions to do the right thing, he always managed to do the wrong one.
Moreover, nothing could get the female saint out of him. He knew,
well enough, that in national emergencies he must not consider how he
ought to act as a man, but how he ought to act as a king : so he
honestly tried to sink the man and be the king — but it was a failure, he
only succeeded in being the female saint. He was not instant in season,
but out of season. He could not be persuaded to do a thing while it
could do any good — he was iron, he was adamant in his stubbornness
then — but as soon as the thing had reached a point where it would
be positively harmful to do it, do it he would, and nothing could stop
him. He did not do it because it would be harmful, but because he
hoped it was not yet too late to achieve by it the good which it would
have done if applied earlier. His comprehension was always a train or
two behindhand. If a national toe required amputating, he could not
see that it needed anything more than poulticing ; when others saw
that the mortification had reached the knee, he first perceived that the
toe needed cutting off — so he cut it off; and he severed the leg at
the knee when others saw that the disease had reached the thigh. He
was good, and honest, and well meaning, in the matter of chasing
national diseases, but he never could overtake one. As a private man,
he would have been lovable ; but viewed as a king, he was strictly
contemptible.
His was a most unroyal career, but the most pitiable spectacle in it
was his sentimental treachery to his Swiss guard on that memorable 10th
of August, when he allowed those heroes to be massacred in his cause,
and forbade them to shed the ' sacred French blood ' purporting to be
flowing in the veins of the red-capped mob of miscreants that was raging
around the palace. He meant to be kingly, but he was only the
female saint once more. Some of his biographers think that upon
this occasion the spirit of Saint Louis had descended upon him. It
must have found pretty cramped quarters. If Napoleon I. had stood in
230 A TRAMP ABROAD.
the shoes of Louis XVI. that day, instead of being merely a casual and;
unknown looker-on, there would be no Lion of Lucerne now, but there
would be a well-stocked Communist graveyard in Paris, which would
answer just as well to remember August 10 by.
Martyrdom made a saint of Marie Queen of Scots three hundred
years ago, and she has hardly lost all of her saintship yet. Martyrdom
made a saint of the trivial and foolish Marie Antoinette, and her bio-
graphers still keep her fragrant with the odour of sanctity to this day,
while unconsciously proving upon almost every page they write that
the only calamitous instinct which her husband lacked, she supplied —
the instinct to root out and get rid of an honest, able, and loyal official,
wherever she found him. The hideous but beneficent French Revolu-
tion would have been deferred, or would have fallen short of com-
pleteness, or even might not have happened at all, if Marie Antoinette
had made the unwise mistake of not being born. The world owes a
great deal to the French Revolution, and consequently to its two chief
promoters, Louis the Poor in Spirit and his queen.
We did not buy any wooden images of the Lion, nor any ivory, or
ebony, or marble, or chalk, or sugar, or chocolate ones, or even any
photographic slanders of him. The truth is, these copies were so
common, so universal, in the shops and everywhere, that they pre-
sently became as intolerable to the wearied eye as the latest popular
melody usually becomes to the harassed ear. In Lucerne, too, the wood
carvings of other sorts, which had been so pleasant to look upon when
one saw them occasionally at home, soon began to fatigue us. We
grew very tired of seeing wooden quails and chickens picking and
strutting around clock faces, and still more tired of seeing wooden
images of the alleged chamois skipping about wooden rocks, or lying
upon them in family groups, or peering alertly up from behind them.
The first day, I would have bought a hundred and fifty of these clocks
if I had had the money — and I did buy three — but on the third day
the disease had run its course, I had convalesced, and was in the market
once more — trying to sell. However, I had no luck; which was just
as well, for the things will be pretty enough, no doubt, when I get
them home.
For years my pet aversion had been the cuckoo clock ; now here I
was, at last, right in the creature's home ; so wherever I went, that dis-
A TRAMP ABROAD.
231
tressing ' hoo'hoo ! /joo'hoo ! Aoo'hoo ! ' was always in my ears. For a
nervous man, this was a fine state of things. Some sounds are hatefuller
than others, but no sound is quite so inane, and silly, and aggravating
as the ' Aoo'hoo ' of a cuckoo clock, I think. I bought one, and am
carrying it home to a certain person ; for I have always said that if the
opportunity ever happened, I would do that man an ill turn. What I
meant, was, that I would break one of his legs, or something of that
sort ; but in Lucerne I instantly saw that I could impair his mind.
That would be more lasting, and more satisfactory every way. So I
bought the cuckoo clock ; and if I ever get home with it, he is ' my
meat,' as they say in the mines. I thought of another candidate — a
HE LIKED CLOCKS.
book reviewer, whom I could name if I wanted to — but after thinking
it over, I didn't buy him a clock. I couldn't injure his mind.
We visited the two long covered wooden bridges which span the
green and brilliant Eeuss just below where it goes plunging and
hurrahing out of the lake. These rambling, swaybacked tunnels are
very attractive things, with their alcoved outlooks upon the lovely
and inspiriting water. They contain two or three hundred queer old
pictures, by old Swiss masters — old boss sign painters, who flourished
before the decadence of art.
The lake is alive with fishes, plainly visible to the eye, for the
water is very clear. The parapets in front of the hotels were usually
232 A TRAMP ABROAD.
fringed with fishers of all ages. One day I thought I would stop and
see a fish caught. The result brought back to my mind, very forcibly,
a circumstance which I had not thought of before for twelve years.
This one : —
THE MAN WHO PUT UP AT GADSBY'S.
When my odd friend Eiley and I were newspaper correspondents
in Washington, in the winter of '67, we were coming down Pennsyl-
vania Avenue one night, near midnight, in a driving storm of snow,
when the flash of a street lamp fell upon a man who was eagerly tearing
along in the opposite direction. This man instantly stopped and ex-
claimed —
I This is lucky ! You are Mr. Riley, ain't you ? '
Riley was the most self-possessed and solemnly deliberate person
in the republic. He stopped, looked his man over from head to foot,
and finally said —
I I am Mr. Riley. Did you happen to be looking for me ? '
' That's just what I was doing,' said the man joyously, ' and it's
the biggest luck in the world that I've found you. My name is Lykins.
I'm one of the teachers of the High School, San Francisco. As soon
as I heard the San Francisco postmastership was vacant, I made up my
mind to get it — and here I am.'
1 Yes,' said Riley, slowly, ' as you have remarked .... Mr. Lykins
.... here you are. And have you got it ? '
' Well, not exactly got it, but the next thing to it. I've brought
a petition, signed by the Superintendent of Public Instruction and all
the teachers, and by more than two hundred other people. Now I
want you, if you'll be so good, to go around with me to the Pacific de-
legation ; for I want to rush this thing through and get along home.'
' If the matter is so pressing, you will prefer that we visit the delega-
tion to-night,' said Riley, in a voice which had nothing mocking in
it — to an unaccustomed ear.
' Oh, to-night, by all means ! I haven't got any time to fool around.
I want their promise before I go to bed — I ain't the talking kind, I'm
the doing kind ! '
' Yes .... you've come to the right place for that. When did
you arrive ? '
A TRAMP ABROAD,
233
-for San Francisco next
1 Just an hour ago.'
4 When are you intending to leave ?'
1 For New York to-morrow evening-
morning.'
1 Just so ... . What are you going to do to-morrow ? '
'Do! Why, I've got to go to the President with the petition and
the delegation, and get the appointment, haven't I ? '
1 Yes .... very true .... that is correct. And then what ? '
4 Executive Session of the Senate at 2 p.m. — got to get the appoint-
ment confirmed — I reckon you'll grant that ? '
1 Yes .... yes,' said Riley, meditatively, ' you are right again.
Then you take the train for New York in the evening and the steamer
for San Francisco next morning ? '
1 That's it — that's the way I map it out.'
Riley considered a while, and then said —
1 You couldn't stay. ... a
day .... well, say two days j|Ov\
longer ? ' gj '
1 Bless your soul, no ! It's § >J<
not my style. I ain't a man to
go fooling around — I'm a man Si!
that does things, I tell you.'
The storm was raging, the
thick snow blowing in gusts.
Riley stood silent, apparently
deep in a reverie, during a
minute or more, then he looked
up and said —
1 Have you ever heard about
that man who putupatGadsby's
once ? . . . . But I see you
haven't.'
He backed Mr. Lykins
against an iron fence, button-
holed him, fastened him with
i • ti i a • ™ • * WILL TELL YOU.'
his eye, like the Ancient Mari-
ner, and proceeded to unfold his narrative as placidly and peacefully
234
A TRAMP ABROAD.
as if we were all stretched comfortably in a blossomy summer meadow,,
instead of being persecuted by a wintry midnight tempest : —
' I will tell you about that man. It was in Jackson's time. Gadsby's-
was the principal hotel then. Well, this man arrived from Tennessee
about nine o'clock one morning, with a black coachman and a splendid
four-horse carriage and an elegant dog, which he was evidently fond
and proud of; he drove up before Gadsby's, and the clerk and the
couldn't wait.
landlord and everybody rushed out to take charge of him ; but he
said " Never mind," and jumped out and told the coachman to wait —
said he hadn't time to take anything to eat, he only had a little claim
against the Government to collect, would run across the way to the
Treasury and fetch the money, and then get right along back to Ten-
nessee, for he was in considerable of a hurry.
' Well, about eleven o'clock that night he came back and ordered
a bed and told them to put the horses up — said he would collect the
..
f ! W
111.
/\
/jip^/TiTptS * D s B Y 'S _Ji » i -
''' PM
EO
iffiiiiifHjUs-'J .
DIDN T CAEE FOR STYLE.
claim in the morning. This was in January, you understand — January
1834 — the 3rd of January — Wednesday.
' Well, on the 5th of February he sold the fine carriage and bought
A TRAMP ABROAD.
235
a cheap secondhand one — said it would answer just as well to take the
money home in, and he didn't care for style.
1 On the 11th of August he sold a pair of the fine horses — said he'd
r^.
A PAIS BETTER THAN FOUR.
often thought a pair was better than four, to go over the rough mountain
roads with where a body had to be careful about his driving — and there
wasn't so much of his claim but he could lug the money home with a
pair easy enough.
TWO WASN'T necessary.
1 On the 13th of December he sold another horse — said two warn't
necessary to drag that old light vehicle with — in fact, one could snatch
it along faster than was absolutely necessary, now that it was good
solid winter weather, and the roads in splendid condition.
JUST THE TRICK.
' On the 17th of February, 1835, he sold the old carriage and
bought a cheap secondhand buggy — said a buggy was just the trick to
236
A TRAMP ABROAD,
skim along mushy, slushy early spring roads with, and he had always
wanted to try a buggy on those mountain roads, anyway.
GOING TO MAKE THEM STARE.
1 On the 1st of August he sold the buggy and bought the remains of
an old sulky — said he just wanted to see those green Tennesseeans
stare and gawk when they saw him come a-ripping along in a sulky —
didn't believe they'd ever heard of a sulky in their lives.
'Well, on the 29th of August he sold his coloured coachman —
^WJj
NOT THROWN AWAY.
said he didn't need a coachman for a sulky — wouldn't be room enough for
two in it anyway — and besides it wasn't every day that Providence sent a
man a fool who was willing to pay nine hundred dollars for such a
third-rate negro as that — been wanting to get rid of the creature for
years, but didn't like to throw him away.
WHAT THE DOCTOR RECOMMENDED.
' Eighteen months later — that is to say, on the 15th of February,
1837 — he sold the sulky and bought a saddle — said horseback riding
was what the doctor had always recommended him to take, and dog'd if
A TRAMP ABROAD.
237
he wanted to risk his neck going over those mountain roads on wheels
in the dead o£ winter, not if he knew himself.
WANTED TO PEEL SAFE.
On the 9th of April he sold the saddle — said he wasn't going to risk
his life with any perishable saddle-girth that ever was made, over a rainy r
miry April road, while he could ride bareback and know and feel he
was safe — always had despised to ride on a saddle, anyway.
' On the 24th of April he sold his horse — said, " I'm just fifty-seven
to-day, hale and hearty — it would be a pretty howdy-do for me to be wast-
iKiMA
PREFERRED TO TRAMP ON FOOT.
ing such a trip as that and such weather as this on a horse, when there ain't
anything in the world so splendid as a tramp on foot through the fresh
spring woods and over the cheery mountains, to a man that is a man —
and I can make my dog carry my claim in a little bundle anyway,
when it's collected. So to-morrow I'll be up bright and early, make
my little old collection, and mosey off to Tennessee, on my own hind
legs, with a rousing Good-bye to Gadsby's."
1 On the 22nd of June he sold his dog — said '•• Dern a dog, anyway,
where you're just starting off on a rattling bully pleasure-tramp through
the summer woods and hills — perfect nuisance — chases the squirrels,
barks at everything, goes a-capering and splattering around in the fords —
man can't get any chance to reflect and enjoy nature — and I'd a blamed
238 A TRAMP ABROAD.
sight rather carry the claim myself, it's a mighty sight safer ; a dog's
mighty uncertain in a financial way — always noticed it — well, good-bye,
boys — last call, — I'm off for Tennessee, with a good leg and a gay heart,
■early in the morning ! " '
DERN A DOG ANYWAY.
There was a pause and a silence — except the noise ol the wind
and the pelting snow. Mr. Lykins said, impatiently —
'Well?'
Riley said —
' Well — that was thirty years ago.'
1 Very well, very well — what of it ? '
1 I'm great friends with that old patriarch. He comes every evening
to tell me good-bye. I saw him an hour ago — he's off for Tennessee
early to-morrow morning — as usual ; said he calculated to get his claim
through and be off before night-owls like me have turned out of bed.
The tears were in his eyes, he was so glad he was going to see his old
Tennessee and his friends once, more.'
Another silent pause. The stranger broke it —
1 Is that all ? '
1 That is all.'
' Wei 1 for the time of night, and the kind of night, it seems to me
the story wu_ a ^\ long enough. But what's it all /or?'
' Oh, nothing in particular.'
' Well, where' s the point of it ? '
1 Oh, there isn't any particular point to it. Only, if you are not in
too much of a hurry to rush off to San Francisco with that post-office
appointment, Mr. Lykins, I'd advise you to " put up at Gadsby's " for a
spell, and take it easy. Good-bye. God bless you ! '
So saying, Riley blandly turned on his heel and left the astonished
A TRAMP ABROAD.
239
school teacher standing there, a musing and motionless snow image
shining in the broad glow of the street lamp.
He never got that post-office.
To go back to Lucerne and its fishers, I concluded, after about
nine hours' waiting, that the man who proposes to tarry till he sees
somebody hook one of those well-fed and experienced fishes will find it
wisdom to ' put up at Gadsby's ' and take it easy. It is likely that a
fish has not been caught on that lake pier for forty years; but no
matter, the patient fisher watches his cork there all the day long just
the same, and seems to enjoy it. One may see the fisher-loafers just
as thick and contented and happy and patient all along the Seine at
Paris, but tradition says that the only thing ever caught there in modern
times is a thing they don't fish for at all — the recent dog and the trans-
lated cat.
A FISHER
240 A TRAMP ABROJD
CHAPTER XXVIL
Close by the Lion of Lucerne is what they call the ' Glacier Garden, *
and it is the only one in the world. It is on high ground. Four
or five years ago some workmen who were digging foundations for a
house came upon this interesting relic of a long-departed age. Scientific
men perceived in it a confirmation of their theories concerning the
glacial period ; so through their persuasions the little tract of ground
was bought, and permanently protected against being built upon. The
soil was removed, and there lay the rasped and guttered track which
the ancient glacier had made as it moved along upon its slow and
tedious journey. This track was perforated by huge pot-shaped holes
in the bed-rock, formed by the furious washing around in them of
boulders by the turbulent torrent which flows beneath all glaciers.
These huge round boulders still remain in the holes ; they and the walls
of the holes are worn smooth by the long-continued chafing which they
gave each other in those old days. It took a mighty force to churn
these big lumps of stone around in that vigorous way. The neighbour-
ing country had a very different shape at that time — the valleys have
risen up and become hills since, and the hills have become valleys.
The boulders discovered in the pots had travelled a great distance, for
there is no rock like them nearer than the distant Rhone Glacier.
For some days we were content to enjoy looking at the blue Lake
Lucerne, and at the piled-up masses of snow, mountains that border
it all round : an enticing spectacle this last, for there is a strange and
fascinating beauty and charm about a majestic snow peak, with the
sun blazing upon it or the moonlight softly enriching it ; but finally,
we concluded to try a bit of excursioning around on a steamboat, and a
dash on foot at the Rigi. Very well, we had a delightful trip to Fluelen,
on a breezy sunny day. Everybody sat on the upper deck, on benches,
rLACIER GAHDRN,
A TRAMP ABROAD. 243
under an awning ; everybody talked, laughed, and exclaimed at the
wonderful scenery. In truth, a trip on that lake is almost the perfec-
tion of pleasuring. The mountains were a never-ceasing marvel.
Sometimes they rose straight up out of thp lake, and towered aloft
:>
and overshadowed our pigmy steamer with their prodigious bulk in the
most impressive way. Not snow-clad mountains these, yet they climbed
high enough towards the sky to meet the clouds and veil their fore-
heads in them. They were not barren and repulsive, but clothed in
green, and restful and pleasant to the eye ; and they were so almost
straight-up-and-down sometimes that one could not imagine a man
being able to keep his footing upon such a surface, yet there are paths,
and the Swiss people go up and down them every day.
Sometimes one of these monster precipices had the slight inclination
•of the huge ship-houses in dock -yards ; then high aloft towards the
sky it took a little stronger inclination, like that of a mansard roof, and
perched on this dizzy mansard one's eye detected little things like
martin-boxes ; and presently perceived that these were the dwellings of
peasants — an airy place for a home, truly. And suppose a peasant
should walk in his sleep, or his child should fall out of the front yard T
b 2
244
A TRAMP ABROAD.
The friends would have a tedious long journey down out of those cloud-
heights, be-
fore they
found the re-
mains. And
yet those far-
away homes
looked ever
so seductive;
they were so
remote from
the troubled
world, they
reposed in
such an at-
mosphere of
peace and of
dreams — surely no one who had learned
to live up there would ever want to live
on a meaner level.
We swept through the prettiest little
curving arms of the lake, among these
colossal green walls, enjoying new delights
always as the stately panorama unfolded
itself before us and re-rolled and hid itself
behind us ; and now and then we had the
thrilling surprise of bursting suddenly
upon a tremendous white mass like the
distant and dominating Jungfrau, or some
,1
MOUNTAIN PATH'S.
kindred giant, looming head and shoulders
above a tumbled waste of lesser Alps.
Once while I was hungrily taking in one of these surprises, and
doing my be>t to get all I possibly could of it while it should last, I was
interrupted by a young and care -free voice —
' You're an American, I think ? So'm 1/
He was about eighteen, or possibly nineteen ; slender, and of medium
height ; open, frank, happy face ; a restless but independent eye ; a
A TRAMP ABROAD.
245
snub nose, which had the air of drawing back with a decent reserve
from the silky new-born moustache below it until it should be intro-
duced; a loosely-hung jaw, calculated to work easily in the sockets.
He wore a low-crowned, narrow-brimmed straw hat, with a broad blue
ribbon around it, which had a white anchor embroidered on it in
front; nobby short-tailed coat, pantaloons, vest — all trim and neat,
and up with the fashion; red-striped stockings, very low-quarter patent
leather shoes, tied with black ribbon ; blue ribbon around his neck
wide-open collar ; tiny diamond studs, wrinkleless kids, projecting
cuffs, fastened with large oxydised silver sleeve-buttons bearino- the
device of a dog's face — English pug. He carried a slim cane, sur-
mounted with an English pug's head with red glass eyes. Under
his arm he carried a German
Grammar, Otto's. His hair was
short, straight, and smooth ; and
presently, when he turned his head
a moment, I saw that it was nicely
parted behind. He took a cigarette
out of a dainty box, stuck it into a
meerschaum holder which he car-
ried in a morocco case, and reached
for my cigar. While he was light-
ing, I said —
' Yes, I am an American.'
' I knew it. I can always tell
them. What ship did you come
over in ? '
' " Holsatia." '
' We came in the " Batavia" —
Cunard, you know. What kind
of a passage did you have ? '
1 Tolerably rough.'
1 So did we. Captain said he'd
hardly ever seen it rougher. Where are you from V
' New England.'
1 So'm I. I'm from New Bloomfield. Anybody with you ? *
* Yes, a friend.'
YOU HE AN AMERICAN — SO AM I.'
246 A TEA MP ABU AD.
1 Our whole family's along. It's awful slow going around alone,
don't you think so ? '
' Rather slow.'
' Ever been over here before ? :
1 Yes.
'I haven't. My first trip. But we've been all around — Paris,
and everywhere. I'm to enter Harvard next year. Studying German
all the time now. Can't enter till I know German. I know con-
siderable French. I get along pretty well in Paris, or anywhere where
they speak French. What hotel are you stopping at? '
' Schweitzerhof.'
' No ! Is that so ? I never see you in the reception room. I go
to the reception room a good deal of the time, because there's so
many Americans there. I make lots of acquaintances. I know an
American as soon as I see him, and so I speak to him and make his
acquaintance. I like to be always making acquaintances, don't you ? '
1 Lord, yes ! '
1 You see it breaks up a trip like this, first rate. I never get bored
on a trip like this, if I can make acquaintances and have somebody to
talk to. But I think a trip like this would be an awful bore if a
body couldn't find anybody to get acquainted with and talk to on a
trip like this. I'm fond of talking, ain't you ?
' Passionately.'
1 Have you felt bored on this trip ? '
' Not all the time, part of it.'
' That's it — you see you ought to go around and get acquainted,
and talk. That's my way. That's the way I always do — I just go
'round, 'round, 'round, and talk, talk, talk — I never get bored. You
been up the Rigi yet ? '
' No.'
« Going ? '
* I think so.'
* What hotel you going to stop at ? '
' I don't know. Is there more than one ?
' Three. You stop at the Schreiber — you'll find it full of Americans.
What ship did you say you came over in ? '
« " City of Antwerp." '
A TRAMP ABROAD. 217
1 German, I guess. You going to Geneva ? '
< Yes.'
' What hotel you going to stop at ? '
' Hotel de l'Ecu de Geneve.'
' Don't you do it ! No Americans there ! You stop at one of those
big hotels over the bridge — they're packed full of Americans.'
' But I want to practise my Arabic'
' Good gracious, do you speak Arabic ? '
' Yes — well enough to get along.'
' Why, hang it, you won't get along in Geneva — they don't speak
Arabic, they speak French. What hotel are you stopping at here ? '
* Hotel Pension-Beaurivage.'
' Sho, you ought to stop at the Schweitzerhof. Didn't you know
the Schweitzerhof was the best hotel in Switzerland ? Look at your
Baedeker.'
' Yes, I know — but I had an idea there warn't any Americans there.'
' No Americans ! Why, bless your soul, it's just alive with them !
I'm in the great reception room most all the time. I make lots of
acquaintances there. Not as many as I did at first, because now only
the new ones stop in there — the others go right along through. Where
are you from ? '
' Arkansaw.'
' Is that so ? I'm from New England — New Bloomfield's my town
when I'm at home. I'm having a mighty good time to-day, ain't you ? '
' Divine.'
' That's what I call it. I like this knocking around, loose and
easy, and making acquaintances and talking. I know an American
soon as I see him ; so I go and speak to him and make his acquaintance.
I ain't ever bored on a trip like this if I can make new acquaintances
and talk. I'm awful fond of talking when I can get hold of the right
kind of a person, ain't you ? '
' I prefer it to any other dissipation.'
' That's my notion, too. Now some people like to take a book and
sit down and read, and read, and read, or moon around yawping at
the lake or these mountains and things, but that ain't my way ; no, sir,
if they like it, let 'em do it, I don't object ; but as for me, talking's what
I like. You been up the Eigi ? '
248
A 1RAMP ABROAD.
4 Yes.'
* What hotel did you stop at ? '
1 Schreiber.'
'That's the place ! — I stopped there too. Full of Americans, wasn't
it? It always is — always is. That's what they say. Everybody
says that. What ship did you come over in ? '
< " Ville de Paris." '
'French, I reckon. What kind of a passage did .... Excuse
me a minute, there's some Americans I haven't seen before.'
And away he went. He went uninjured too. I had the murderous
impulse to harpoon him in the back with my alpenstock, but as I
raised the weapon the disposition left me ; I found I hadn't the heart
to kill him, he was such a joyous, innocent, good-natured numskull.
Half an hour later I was sitting on a
bench inspecting, with strong interest, a noble
monolith which we were skimming by — a
monolith not shaped by man, but by
Nature's free, great hand — a massy pyr-
imidal rock eighty feet high, devised by
<^f/ Nature ten million years ago against the
day when a man worthy of it should need
it for his monument. The time came at
last, and now this grand remembrancer
bears Schiller's name in huge letters upon
its face. Curiously enough, this rock was
not degraded or defiled in any way. It is
said that two years ago a stranger let him-
self down from the top of it with ropes and
pulleys, and painted all over it, in blue letters
bigger than those in Schiller's name, these
words : —
' Try Sozodont ; '
1 Buy Sun Stove Polish ; ■
' Helmbold's Buchu ; '
enterprise. « Try Benzaline for the Blood.*
He was captured, and it turned out that he was an American,
his trial the judge said to him : —
Upon
A TRAMP ABROAD. 249
* You are from a land where any insolent that wants to is privileged
to profane and insult Nature, and, through her, Nature's God, if by so
doing he can put a sordid penny in his pocket. But here the case is
different. Because you are a foreigner and ignorant, I will make youi
sentence light : if you were a native, I would deal strenuously with
you. Hear and obey. You will immediately remove every trace of
your offensive work from the Schiller monument ; you will pay a fine
of ten thousand francs ; you will suffer two years' imprisonment at hard
labour; you will then be horsewhipped, tarred and feathered, deprived
of your ears, ridden on a rail to the confines of the canton, and banished
for ever. The severer penalties are omitted in your case— not as a grace
to you, but to that great repubiic which had the misfortune to give you
birth.'
The steamer's benches were ranged back to back across the deck.
My back hair was mingling innocently with the back hair of a couple
of ladies. Presently they were addressed by someone and I overheard
this conversation —
1 You are Americans, I think ? So'm I.'
' Yes — we are Americans.'
4 1 knew it — I can always tell them. What ship did you come
over in ? '
"'City of Chester.'"
'Oh, yes— Inman line. We came in the "Batavia" — Cunard, you
know. What kind of a passage did you have ? '
1 Pretty fair.'
' That was luck. We had it awful rough. Captain said he'd hardly
ever seen it rougher. Where are you from ? '
1 New Jersey.'
' So'm I. No — I didn't mean that : I'm from New England. New
Bloomfield's my place. These your children? — belong to both of
you ? '
' Only to one of us; they are mine; my friend is not married.'
I Single, I reckon ? So'm I. Are you two ladies travelling alone ? '
i No — my husband is with us.'
i Our whole family's along. It's awful slow, going around alone —
don't you think so ? '
I I suppose it must be.'
' Hi, there's Mount Pilatus coming in sight again. Named after
250
A TRAMP ABB AD.
Pontius Pilate, you know, that shot the apple off of William Tell's
head. Guidebook tells all about it, they say. I didn't read it — an
American told me. I don't read when I'm knocking around like this,
having a good time. Did you ever see the
chapel where William Tell used to preach ? *
i I did not know he ever preached there.'
1 Oh, yes, he did. That American told
me so. He don't ever shut up his guide-
book. He knows more about this lake than
the fishes in it. Besides, they call it "Tell's
Chapel" — you know that yourself. You
ever been over here before ? '
< Yes.'
' I haven't. It's my first trip. But we've
been all around — Paris, and everywhere.
I'm to enter Harvard next year. Studying
German all th e time now. Can't enter till I
know German. This book's Otto's Grammar.
It's a mighty good book to get the ich habe
gehabt haben" s out of. But I don't really study
when I'm knocking around this way. If the
notion takes me, I just run over my little
old ich habe gehabt, clu hast gehabt, er hat
gehabt, wir haben gehabt, ihr habet gehabt,
sie haben gehabt — kind of " Now-I-lay-me-
down-to-sleep " fashion, you know, and after
the constant searcher, that, maybe I don't buckle to it again for
three days. It's awful undermining to the
intellect, German is; yon want to take it in small doses, or first you
know your brains all run together, and you feel them sloshing around
in your head same as so much drawn butter. But French is different ;
French ain't anything. I ain't any more afraid of French than a
tramp's afraid of pie ; I can rattle off my little fai, tu as, il a, and
the rest of it, just as easy as a-b-c. I get along pretty well in Paris,
or anywhere where they speak French. What hotel you stopping at ? *
' The Schweitzerhof.'
* No ! is that so ? I never see you in the big reception room.
I go
A TRAMP ABB AD. 251
in there a good deal of the time, because there's so many Americans
there. I make lots of acquaintances. You been up the Rigi yet ? '
< No.'
'Going?'
< We think of it.'
' What hotel you going to stop at ? '
' I don't know.'
' Well, then, you stop at the Schreiber — it's full of Americans,
What ship did you come over in ? '
< " City of Chester." '
* Oh, yes, I remember I asked you that before. But I always ask
everybody what ship they came over in, and so sometimes I forget and
ask again. You going to Geneva ? '
1 Yes.'
1 What hotel you going to stop at ? '
'We expect to stop in a pension.'
' I don't hardly believe you'll like that ; there's very few Americana
m the pensions. What hotel are you stopping at here ? '
' The Schweitzerhof .'
' Oh, yes, I asked you that before, too. But I always ask every-
body what hotel they're stopping at, and so I've got my head all mixed
up with hotels. But it makes talk, and I love to talk. It refreshes me
up so — don't it you — on a trip like this ? '
' Yes — sometimes.'
' Well, it does me, too. As long as I'm talking I never feel bored —
ain't that the way with you ? '
1 Yes — generally. But there are exceptions to the rule.'
' Oh, of course. I don't care to talk to everybody myself. If a
person starts in to j abb er-j abb er -jabber about scenery, and history,
and pictures, and all sorts of tiresome things, I get the fan-tods mighty
soon. I say, " Well, I must be going now — hope I'll see you again" —
and then I take a walk. Where you from ? '
' New Jersey.'
1 Why, bother it all, I asked you that before, too. Have you seen
the Lion of Lucerne ? '
' Not yet.'
* Nor I, either. But the man who told me about Mount Pilatus-
252
A TRAMP ABROAD.
cays it's one of the things to see. It's twenty-eight feet long. It don't
seem reasonable, but he said so, anyway. He saw it yesterday ; said
it was dying then, so I reckon it's dead by this time. But that ain't
any matter, of course they'll stuff it. Did you say the children are
yours — or hers ? '
' Mine.'
1 Oh, so you did. Are you going up the .... no, I asked you
that. What ship .... no, I asked you that, too. What hotel are
you .... no, you told me that. Let me see .... um .... oh,
what kind of a voy .... no, we've been over that ground too.
Um .... um .... well, I believe that is all. Bonjour — I am very
glad to have made your acquaintance, ladies. Guten Tag.'
A TRAMP ABROAD. 253
CHAPTER XXVIII.
The Rigi-Kulm is an imposing Alpine mass, 6,000 feet high, which
stands by itself, and commands a mighty prospect of blue lakes, green
valleys, and snowy mountains — a compact and magnificent picture three
hundred miles in circumference. The ascent is made by rail, or horse-
back, or on foot, as one may prefer. I and my agent panoplied ourselves
in walking costume, one bright morning, and started down the lake on
the steamboat ; we got ashore at the village of Waggis, three-quarters
of an hour distant from Lucerne. This village is at the foot of the
mountain.
We were soon tramping leisurely up the leafy mule-path, and
then the talk began to flow, as usual. It was twelve o'clock noon, and
a breezy, cloudless day ; the ascent was gradual, and the glimpses, from
under the curtaining boughs, of blue water, and tiny sail-boats, and
beetling cliffs, were as charming as glimpses of dreamland. All the
circumstances were perfect — and the anticipations, too, for we should
soon be enjoying, for the first time, that wonderful spectacle, an
Alpine sunrise — the object of our journey. There was (apparently)
no real need to hurry, for the guide-book made the walking distance
from Waggis to the summit only three hours and a quarter. I say
' apparently,' because the guide-book had already fooled us once — about
the distance from Allerheiligen to Oppenau — and for aught I knew
it might be getting ready to fool us again. We were only certain
as to the altitudes — we calculated to find out for ourselves how many
hours it is from the bottom to the top. The summit is 6,000 feet
above the sea, but only 4,500 feet above the lake. When we had
walked half an hour, we were fairly into the swing and humour of
the undertaking, so we cleared for action; that is to say, we got a boy
254
A TRAMP ABROAD.
•whom we met to carry our alpenstocks, and satchels, and overcoats
and things for us ; that left us free for business.
I suppose we must have stopped oftener to stretch out on the grass
in the hhnde and take a bit of a smoke than this boy was used to, for
presently he asked if it had been our idea
to hire him by the job or by the year. We
told him he could move along if he was in
a hurry. He said he wasn't in such a very
particular hurry, but he wanted to get to the
top while he was young. We told him to
clear out then, and leave the things at the
uppermost hotel and say we should be along
presently. He said he would secure us a
hotel if he could, but if they were all full he
would ask them to build another one and
hurry up and get the paint and plaster dry
against we arrived. Still gently chaffing us,
be pushed ahead, up the trail, and soon dis-
appeared. By six o'clock we were pretty high
up in the air, and the view of lake and moun-
tains had greatly grown in breadth and inte-
rest. We halted a while at a little public-
house, where we had bread and cheese and a
quart or two of fresh milk, out on the porch,
with the big panorama all before us — and
then moved on again.
Ten minutes afterwards we met a hot, red-
faced man plunging down the mountain, with
mighty strides, swinging his alpenstock ahead
of him and taking a grip on the ground with
its iron point to support these big strides.
He stopped, fanned himself with his hat,
swabbed the perspiration from his face and
neck with a red handkerchief, panted a moment or two, and asked how
far it was to Waggis. I said three hours. He looked surprised and said —
' Why, it seems as if I could toss a biscuit into the lake from here,
it's so close by. Is that an inn there ? '
A TRAMP ABROAD.
I said it was.
' Well,' said he, ' I can't stand another three hours, I've had enough
for to-day : I'll take a bed there.'
I asked —
' Are we nearly to the top ? '
1 Nearly to the top ! Why, bless your soul, you haven't really
started yet.'
I said we would put up at the inn, too. So we turned back and
ordered a hot supper, and had quite a jolly evening of it with this
Englishman.
The German landlady
gave us neat rooms and nice
beds, and when I and my
agent turned in, it was with
the resolution to be up early
and make the utmost of our
first Alpine sunrise. But
of course we were dead
tired, and slept like police-
men ; so when we awoke
in the morning and ran to
the window it was already
too late, because it was
half-past eleven. It was
a sharp disappointment.
However, we ordered break-
fast and told the landlady
to call the Englishman, but the englishman.
she said he was already up and off at daybreak — and swearing mad
about something or other. We could not find out what the matter was.
He had asked the landlady the altitude of her place above the level of
the lake, and she had told him fourteen hundred and ninety-five feet.
That was all that was said ; then he lost his temper. He said that be-
tween fools and guide-books, a man could acquire ignorance enough
in twenty-four hours in a country like this to last him a year. Harris
believed our boy had been loading him up with misinformation ; and this
was probably the case, for his epithet described that boy to a dot.
256 A Til AMP ABROAD.
We got under way about the turn of noon, and pulled out for the
summit again, with a fresh and vigorous step. When we had got about
two hundred yards, and stopped to rest, I glanced to the left while I
was lighting my pipe, and in* the distance detected a long worm of black
smoke crawling lazily up the steep mountain. Of course that was the
locomotive. We propped ourselves on our elbows at once, to gaze, for
we had never seen a mountain railway yet. Presently we could make
out the train. It seemed incredible that the thing should creep straight
up a sharp slant like the roof of a house — but there it was, and it was
doing that very miracle.
In the course of a couple of hours we reached a fine breezy alti-
tude where the little shepherd-huts had big stones all over their
roofs to hold them down to the earth when the great storms rage. The
country was wild and rocky about here, but there were plenty of
frees, plenty of moss, and grass.
Away off on the opposite shore of the lake we could see some
villages, and now for the first time we could observe the real difference
between their proportions and those of the giant mountains at whose
feet they slept. When one is in one of those villages it seems spacious,
and its houses seem high and not out of proportion to the mountain that
overhangs them — but from our altitude, what a change ! The mountains
were bigger and grander than ever, as they stood there thinking their
solemn thoughts with their heads in the drifting clouds, but the villages
at their feet — when the painstaking eye could trace them up and find
them — were so reduced, so almost invisible, and lay so flat against the
ground, that the exactest simile I can devise is to compare them to
ant-deposits of granulated dirt overshadowed by the huge bulk of
a cathedral. The steamboats skimming along under the stupendous
precipices were diminished by distance to the daintiest little toys, the
sail-boats and row-boats to shallops proper for fairies that keep house
in the cups of lilies and ride to court on the backs of bumble-bees.
Presently we came upon half a dozen sheep nibbling grass in the
spray of a stream of clear water that sprang from a rock wall a hundred
feet high, and all at once our ears were startled with a melodious ' Lul
... 1 .... 1 ... . lul-lul-Zahee-o-o-o !' pealing joyously from a near
but invisible source, and recognised that we were hearing for the first
time the famous Alpine jodel in its own native wilds. And we recog-
A TRAMP ABROAD.
257
nised, also, that it was that sort of quaint commingling of baritone
and falsetto which at home we call ' Tyrolese warbling.'
The jodling (pronounced yodling — emphasis on the 6) continued,
and was very pleasant and inspiriting to hear. Now the jodler appeared
— a shepherd boy of sixteen — and in our gladness and gratitude we
gave him a franc to jodel some more. So he jodeled, and we listened.
We moved on presently, and he
generously jodeled us out of
sight. After about fifteen mi-
nutes, we came across another
shepherd boy who was jod-
ling, and gave him half a franc
to keep it up. He also jod-
led us out of sight. After
that, we found a jodler every
ten minutes ; we gave the
THE 'JODLER.' first one eight centSj ^
second one six cents, the third one four cents, the fourth one a
penny, contributed nothing to Nos. 5, 6, 7, and during the remainder of
258
A TRAMP ABROAD.
the day hired the rest of the jodlers, at a franc apiece, not to jodel any-
more. There is somewhat too much of this jodling in the Alps.
About the middle of the afternoon we passed through a prodigious-
natural gateway called
the Felsenthor , formed
HH by two enormous up-
right rocks, with a
third lying across the
top. There was a
very attractive little
hotel close by, but
our energies were not
conquered yet, so we
went on.
Three hours after-
ward we came to the
railway track. It was
planted straight up
the mountain with the
slant of a ladder that
leans against a house
and it seemed to us
that a man would
need good nerves who
proposed to travel up
it or down it either.
During the latter
part of the afternoon
we cooled our roast-
ing interiors with ice-cold water from clear streams, the only really
satisfying water we had tasted since we left home, for at the hotels-
on the Continent they merely give you a tumbler of ice to soak your
water in, and that only modifies its hotness, doesn't make it cold.
Water can only be made cold enough for summer comfort by being
prepared in a refrigerator or a closed ice-pitcher. Europeans say
ice water impairs digestion. How do they know ? — they never drink-
any.
ANOTHER VOCALIST.
A TRAMP ABROAD.
259
At ten minutes past six we reached the Kaltbad station, where
there is a spacious hotel with great verandahs which command a ma-
jestic expanse of lake and mountain scenery. I We were pretty well
fagged out now, but as we did not wish to miss the Alpine sunrise, we
got through with our dinner as ^ — _ _/*
quickly as possible and hurried off k #
to bed. It was unspeakably com- , : ; _-
fortable to stretch our weary limbs
between the cool damp sheets. And
how we did sleep ! — for there is no
opiate like Alpine pedestrianism.
In the morning we both awoke
and leaped out of bed at the same
instant and ran and stripped aside
the window curtains, but we suffered
a bitter disappointment again: it
was already half-past three in the
afternoon.
We dressed sullenly and in ill
spirits, each accusing the other of
over-sleeping. Harris said if we
had brought the courier along, as
we ought to have done, we should
not have missed these sunrises. I
said he knew very well that one of
us would have had to sit up and wake the courier; and I added
that we were having trouble enough to take care of ourselves on this
climb, without having to take care of a courier besides.
During breakfast our spirits came up a little, since we found by the
guide-book that in the hotels on the summit the tourist is not left to
trust to luck for his sunrise, but is roused betimes by a man who goes
through the halls with a great Alpine horn, blowing blasts that would
raise the dead. And there was another consoling thing : the guide-
book said that up there on the summit the guests did not wait to
dress much, but seized a red bed-blanket and sailed out arrayed like an
Indian. This was good ; this would be romantic ; two hundred and
fifty people grouped on the windy summit, with their hair flying and
THE FELSENTHOK.
260 A TRAMP ABROAD.
their red blankets flapping, in the solemn presence of the snowy
ranges and the messenger splendours of the coming sun, would be a
striking and memorable spectacle. So it was good luck, not ill luck,
that we had missed those other sunrises.
A VIEW FROM THE STATION.
We were informed by the guide-book that we were now 3,228
feet above the level of the lake— therefore full two-thirds of our journey
had been accomplished. We got away at a quarter past four p.m. ; a
hundred yards above the hotel the railway divided ; one track went
straight up the steep hill, the other one turned square off to the right,
with a very slight grade. We took the latter, and followed it more
than a mile, turned a rocky corner and came in sight of a handsome new
hotel. If we had gone on, we should have arrived at the summit, but
Harris preferred to ask a lot of questions — as usual, of a man who
didn't know anything — and he told us to go back and follow the other
route. We did so. We could ill afford this loss of time.
We climbed and climbed ; and we kept on climbing ; we reached
about forty summits ; but there was always another one just ahead.
It came on to rain, and it rained in dead earnest. We were soaked
A TRAMP ABROAD.
2G1
through, and it was bitter cold. Next a smoky fog of clouds covered
the whole region densely, and we took to the railway ties to keep from
getting lost. Sometimes we slopped along in a narrow path on the
left-hand side of the track, but by-and-by, when the fog blew aside a
little and we saw that we were treading the rampart of a precipice, and
that our left elbows were projecting over a perfectly boundless and
bottomless vacancy, we gasped and jumped for the ties again.
The night shut down, dark, and drizzly, and cold. About eight
in the evening the fog lifted and showed us a well-worn path which
led up a very steep rise to the left. We took it, and as soon as we had
got far enough from the railway to render the finding it again an im-
possibility, the fog shut down on us once more.
LOST m THE MIST.
We were in a bleak unsheltered place now, and had to trudge right
along in order to keep warm, though we rather expected to go over a
precipice sooner or later. About nine o'clock we made an important
discovery — that we were not in any path. We groped around a while
on our hands and knees, but could not find it ; so we sat down in
the mud and the wet scant grass to wait. We were terrified into this
by being suddenly confronted with a vast body which showed- itself
262
.4 TBAMP ABROAD.
vaguely for an instant, and in the next instant was smothered m the fog
again. It was really the hotel we were after, monstrously magnified
by the fog, but we took it for the face of a precipice and decided not
to try to claw up it.
We sat there an hour, with chattering teeth and quivering bodies,
and quarrelled over all sorts of trifles, but gave most of our attention
to abusing each other for the stupidity of deserting the railway track.
We sat with our backs to that precipice, because what little wind
there was came from that quarter. At some time or other the fog
thinned a little ; we did not know when, for we were facing the
empty universe and the thinness could not show ; but at last Harris
THE RIGI-KULM HOTEL.
happened to look around, and there stood a huge, dim, spectral hotel
where the precipice had been. One could faintly discern the windows
and chimneys, and a dull blur of lights. Our first emotion was deep,
unutterable gratitude, our next was a foolish rage, born of the suspicion
,that possibly the hotel had been visible three-quarters of an hour
while we sat there in those cold puddles quarrelling.
Yes, it was the Bigi-Kulm hotel — the one that occupies the extreme
A TRAMP ABROAD. 263
summit, and whose remote little sparkle of lights we had often seen
glinting high aloft among the stars from our balcony away down
yonder in Lucerne. The crusty portier and the crusty clerks gave
us the surly reception which their kind deal in in prosperous times,
but by mollifying them with an extra display of obsequiousness and
-servility we finally got them to show us to the room which our boy
had engaged for us.
We got into some dry clothing, and while our supper was pre-
paring we loafed forsakenly through a couple of vast cavernous drawing-
rooms, one of which had a stove in it. This stove "was in a corner,
and densely walled around with people. We could not get near the
fire, so we moved at large in the arctic spaces, among a multitude of
people who sat silent, smileless, forlorn, and shivering — thinking what
fools they were to come, perhaps. There were some Americans, and
some Germans, but one could see that the great majority were English.
We lounged into an apartment where there was a great crowd, to see
what was going on. It was a memento-magazine. The tourists were
eagerly buying all sorts and styles of paper-cutters, marked ' Souvenir
of the Rigi,' with handles made of the little curved horn of the osten-
sible chamois ; there were all manner of wooden goblets and such things,
similarly marked. I was going to buy a paper-cutter, but I believed I
could remember the cold comfort of the Rigi-Kulm without it, so I
smothered the impulse.
Supper warmed us, and we went immediately to bed ; but first,
as Mr. Baedeker requests all tourists to call his attention to any errors
which they may find in his guide-books, I dropped him a line to inform
him that when he said the foot journey from Waggis to the summit
was only three hours and a quarter, he missed it by just about
three days. I had previously informed him of his mistake about the
distance from Allerheiligen to Oppenau, and had also informed the
Ordnance Department of the German Government of the same error in
the Imperial maps. I will add, here, that I never got any answer to
these letters, or any thanks from either of those sources ; and what is
still more discourteous, these corrections have not been made, either in
the maps or the guide-books. But I will write again when I get
time, for my letters may have miscarried.
We curled up in the clammy beds, and went to sleep without rock-
264
A TRAMP ABROAD.
ing. We were so sodden with fatigue that we never stirred nor turned
over till the blooming blasts of the Alpine horn aroused us. It may well
be imagined that we did not lose any time. We snatched on a few odds
and ends of clothing, cocooned ourselves in the proper red blankets and
plunged along the halls and out into the whistling wind bare-headed.
We saw a tall wooden scaffolding on the very peak of the summit, a
hundred yards away, and made for it. We rushed up the stairs to the
top of this scaffolding, and stood there, above the vast outlying world r
with hair flying and ruddy blankets waving and cracking in the
fierce breeze.
' Fifteen minutes too late, at least ! ' said Harris, in a vexed voice.
' The sun is clear above the horizon.'
'No matter,' I said, 'it is a most magnificent spectacle, and we
will see it do the rest of its rising, anyway.'
In a moment we were deeply absorbed in the marvel before us,
and dead to everything else. The great cloud-barred disk of the sun
stood just above a limitless expanse of tossing white-caps — so to speak
WHAT AWAKENED US.
— a billowy chaos of massy mountain domes and peaks draped in
imperishable snow, and flooded with an opaline glory of changing and
dissolving splendours, whilst through rifts in a black cloud-bank above
the sun, radiating lances of diamond dust shot to the zenith. The
A SUMMIT SUNRISE.
A TRAMP ABROAD.
267
cloven valleys of the lower world swam in a tinted mist which veiled
the ruggedness of their crags and ribs and ragged forests, and turned
all the forbidding region into a soft and rich and sensuous paradise.
We could not speak. We could hardly breathe. We could
only gaze in drunken ecstasy and drink it in. Presently Harris
exclaimed —
1 Why, nation, it's going down !'
Perfectly true. We had missed the morning horn-blow, and slept
all day. This was stupefying. Harris said, —
'Look here, the sun isn't the spectacle — it's us — stacked up here
on top of this gallows, in these idiotic blankets, and two hundred
PERCHED ALOFT.
and fifty well-dressed men and women down here gawking up at us and
not caring a straw whether the sun rises or sets, as long as they've got
such a ridiculous spectacle as this to set down in their memorandum-
books. They seem to be laughing their ribs loose, and there's one
girl there that appears to be going all to pieces. I never saw such a man
as you before. I think you are the very last possibility in the way of
an ass.'
*G8 A TRAMP ABROAD.
1 What have I done ? ' I answered with heat.
1 What have you done ? You've got up at half-past seven
o'clock in the evening to see the sun rise, that's what you've done.'
1 And have you done any better, I'd like to know ? I always used
to get up with the lark, till I came under the petrifying influence of
your turgid intellect.'
' You used to get up with the lark ! Oh, no doubt ; you'll get up
with the hangman one of these days. But you ought to be ashamed to
be jawing here like this in a red blanket, on a forty-foot scaffold on top
of the Alps. And no end of people down here to boot; this isn't any
place for an exhibition of temper.'
And so the customary quarrel went on. When the sun was fairly
down, we slipped back to the hotel in the charitable gloaming, and
went to bed again. We had encountered the horn-blower on the
way, and he had tried to collect compensation, not only for announcing
the sunset, which we did see, but for the sunrise, which we had totally
missed, but we said no, we only took our solar rations on the ' European
plan ' — pay for what you get. He promised to make us hear his horn
in the morning, if we were alive.
.4. TRAMP ABROAD. 2G9
CHAPTER XXIX.
He kept his word. We heard his horn and instantly got up. It
was dark and cold and wretched. As I fumbled around for the
matches, knocking things down with my quaking hands, I wished
the sun would rise in the middle of the day, when it was warm and
bright and cheerful, and one wasn't sleepy. We proceeded to dress by
the gloom of a couple of sickly candles, but we could hardly button
anything, our hands shook so. I thought of how many happy people
there were in Europe, Asia, and America, and everywhere, who were
sleeping peacefully in their beds and did not have to get up and see the
Rigi sunrise — people who did not appreciate their advantage, as like
as not, but would get up in the morning wanting more boons of
Providence. While thinking these thoughts I yawned, in a rather
ample way, and my upper teeth got hitched on a nail over the door,
and whilst I was mounting a chair to free myself, Harris drew the
window curtain and said —
' Oh, this is luck ! We shan't have to go out at all ; yonder are
the mountains, in full view.'
That was glad news, indeed. It made us cheerful right away. One
could see the grand Alpine masses dimly outlined against the black
firmament, and one or two faint stars blinking through rifts in the
night. Fully clothed, and wrapped in blankets, we huddled ourselves
up, by the window, with lighted pipes, and fell into chat, while we
waited in exceeding comfort to see how an Alpine sunrise was going
to look by candle-light. By-and-by a delicate, spiritual sort of
effulgence spread itself by imperceptible degrees over the loftiest
altitudes of the snowy wastes — but there the effort seemed to stop. I
said, presently —
270
A TRAMP ABROAD.
i There is a hitch about this sunrise somewhere. It doesn't seem
to go. What do you reckon is the matter with it ? '
' I don't know. It appears to hang fire somewhere. I never saw a
sunrise act like that be-
fore. Can it be that the
hotel is playing anything on
us?'
' Of course not. The
hotel merely has a property
interest in the sun, it has
nothing to do with the
management of it. It is a
precarious kind of property,
too ; a succession of total
eclipses would probably
ruin this tavern. Now
what can be the matter
with this sunrise ? '
Harris jumped up and
said —
1 I've got it ! I know
what's the matter with it I
We've been looking at the
place where the sun set
last night ! '
' It is perfectly true I
Why couldn't you have
thought of that sooner ?
Now we've lost another
one. And all through
your blundering. It was exactly like you to light a pipe and sit down
to wait for the sun to rise in the west.'
' It was exactly like me to find out the mistake, too. You never
would have found it out. I find out all the mistakes.'
1 You make them all, too, else your most valuable faculty would
be wasted on you. But don't stop to quarrel now ; maybe we are not
too late yet.'
EXCEEDINGLY COMFORTABLE.
A TRAMP ABROAD.
271
But we were. The sun was well up when we got to the exhibition
ground.
On our way up we met the crowd returning — men and women
111
Aii
dressed in all sorts of queer
costumes, and exhibiting all
degrees of cold and wretchedness
in their gaits and countenances.
A dozen still remained on the
ground when we reached there,
huddled together about the
scaffold with their backs to the
bitter wind. They had their
red guide-books open at the
diagram of the view, and were pain-
fully picking out the several mountains,
and trying to impress their names and
positions on their memories. It was
one of the saddest sights I ever saw.
Two sides of this place were guarded by railings, to keep people
from being blown over the precipices. The view, looking sheer down
into the broad valley, eastward, from this great elevation — almost a per-
pendicular mile — was very quaint and curious. Counties, towns, hilly
ribs and ridges, wide stretches of green meadow great forest tract.-,
^ o.f.xc'.yj,
THE SUNBISE.
272 A TRAMP ABROAD.
winding streams, a dozen blue lakes, a flock of busy steamboats — we
saw all this little world in unique circumstantiality of detail — saw it
just as the birds see it — and all reduced to the smallest of scales and as
sharply worked out and finished as a steel engraving. The numerous
toy villages, with tiny spires projecting out of them, were just as the
children might have left them when done with play the day before j
the forest tracts were diminished to cushions of moss ; one or two
big lakes were dwarfed to ponds, the smaller ones to puddles — though
they did not look like puddles but like blue ear-drops which had fallen
and lodged in slight depressions, conformable to their shapes, among
the moss-beds and the smooth levels of dainty green farm-land ; the
microscopic steamboats glided along as in a city reservoir, taking a
mighty time to cover the distance between ports which seemed only a
yard apart ; and the isthmus which separated two lakes looked as if
one might stretch out on it and lie with both elbows i^i the water, yet
we knew invisible wagons were toiling across it and finding the distance
a tedious one. This beautiful miniature world had Exactly the
appearance of those l relief maps ' which reproduce nature pre^Asely,
with the heights and depressions and other details graduated to a
reduced scale, and with the rocks, trees, lakes, etc., coloured after
nature.
I believed we could walk down to Waggis or Vitznau in a day,
but I knew we could go down by rail in about an hour, so I chose the
latter method. I wanted to see what it was like, anyway. The train
came along about the middle of the forenoon, and an odd thing it was.
The locomotive boiler stood on end, and it and the whole locomotive
were tilted sharply backward. There were two passenger cars, roofed,
but wide open all around. These cars were not tilted back, but the
seats were ; this enables the passenger to sit level while going down a
steep incline.
There are three railway tracks ; the central one is cogged ; the
1 lantern wheel ' of the engine grips its way along these cogs, and pulls
the train up the hill or retards its motion on the down trip. About
the same speed — three miles an hour — is maintained both ways.
"Whether going up or down, the locomotive is always at the lower end
of the train. It pushes, in the one case, braces back in the other.,
A TRAMP ABROAD.
273
274 A TRAMP ABROAD.
The passenger rides backwards going up, and faces forward going
down.
We got front seats, and while the train moved along about fifty
yards on level ground, I was not the least frightened ; but now it
started abruptly down stairs, and I caught my breath. And I, like
my neighbours, unconsciously held back, all I could, and threw my
weight to the rear, but of course that did no particular good. I
had slid den down the balusters when I was a boy, and thought nothing
of it, but to slide down the balusters in a railway train is a thing to
make one's flesh creep. Sometimes we had as much as ten yards of
almost level ground, and this gave us a few full breaths in comfort ;
but straightway we Avould turn a corner and see a long steep line of
rails stretching down below us, and the comfort was at an end. One
expected to see the locomotive pause, or slack up a little, and approach
this plunge cautiously, but it did nothing of the kind ; it went calmly
on, and when it reached the jumping-off place it made a sudden bow,
and went gliding smoothly down stairs, untroubled by the circum-
stances.
It was wildly exhilarating to slide along the edge of the precipices
after this grisly fashion, and look straight down upon that far-off valley
which I was describing a while ago.
There was no level ground at the Kaltbad station. ; the rail-bed was
as steep as a roof; I was curious to see how the stop was going to
be managed. But it was very simple ; the train came sliding down,
and when it reached the right spot it just stopped — that was all
there was ' to it ' — stopped on the steep incline, and when the
exchange of passengers and baggage had been made, it moved off
and went sliding down again. The train can be stopped anywhere,
at a moment's notice.
There was one curious effect, which I need not take the trouble
to describe, because I can scissor a description of it out of the railway
company's advertising pamphlet, and save my ink : —
* On the whole tour, particularly at the Descent, we undergo an
optical illusion which often seems to be incredible. All the shrubs,
fir-trees, stables, houses, etc., seem to be bent in a slanting direction,
as by an immense pressure of air. They are all standing awry, so
much awry that the chalets and cottages of the peasants seem to be
A TRAMP ABROAD.
275
tumbling down. It is the consequence of the steep inclination of
the line. Those who are seated in the carriage do not observe that
they are going down a declivity of 20° to 25° (their seats being
adapted to this course of proceeding and being bent down at their
AN OPTICAL ILLUSION.
backs). They mistake their carriage and its horizontal lines for a
proper measure of the normal plain, and therefore all the objects
outside, which really are in a horizontal position, must show a dispro-
portion of 20° to 25° declivity, in regard to the mountain.'
By the time one reaches Kaltbad, he has acquired confidence in the
railway, and he now ceases to try to ease the locomotive by holding
back. Thenceforward he smokes his pipe in serenity, and gazes out
upon the magnificent picture below and about him with unfettered
enjoyment. There is nothing to interrupt the view or the breeze ; it
is like inspecting the world on the wing. However, to be exact,
there is one place where the serenity lapses for a while ; this is while
one is crossing the Schnurrtobel Bridge : a frail structure which swings
its gossamer frame down through the dizzy air, over a gorge, like
a vagrant spider strand.
One has no difficulty in remembering his sins while the train is
creeping down this bridge ; and he repents of them, too ; though
t2
276
A TRAMP ABROAD.
he sees, when he gets to Vitznau, that he need not have done it — the
bridge was perfectly safe.
So ends the eventful trip which we made to the Rigi-Kulm to see
an Alpine sunrise.
SEEING THE SUNRISE.
A TRAMP ABROAD. 27U
CHAPTER XXX.
An hour's sail brought us to Lucerne again. I judged it best to go
to bed and rest several days, for I knew that the man who undertakes
to make the tour of Europe on foot must take care of himself.
Thinking over my plans, as mapped out, I perceived that they
did not take in the Furka Pass, the Rhone Glacier, the Finsteraarhorn,
the Wetterhorn, etc. I immediately examined the guide-book to see
if these were important, and found they were ; in fact, a pedestrian
tour of Europe could not be complete without them. Of course that
decided me at once to see them, for I never allow myself to do things
by halves, or in a slurring, slipshod way.
I called in my agent and instructed him to go without delay and
make a careful examination of these noted places, on foot, and bring
me back a written report of the result, for insertion in my book. I
instructed* him to go to Hospenthal as quickly as possible, and make
his grand start from there; to extend his foot expedition as far as
the Giesbach fall, and return to me from thence by diligence or mule.
I told him to take the courier with him.
He objected to the courier, and with some show of reason, since
he was about to venture upon new and untried ground ; but I thought
he might as well learn how to take care of the courier now as later,
therefore I enforced my point. I said that the trouble, delay, and in-
convenience of travelling with a courier were balanced by the deep
respect which a courier's presence commands, and I must insist that
as much style be thrown into my journeys as possible.
So the two assumed complete mountaineering costumes and departed.
A week later they returned, pretty well used up, and my agent handed
me the following
280
A TRAMP ABROAD.
Official Beport
Of a Visit to the Furka Region. By H. Harris, Agent.
About seven o'clock in the morning, with perfectly fine weather, we
6tarted from Hospenthal, and arrived at the maison on the Furka in
a little under quatre hours. The want of variety in the scenery from
Hospenthal made the kahkahponeeha wearisome ; but let none be dis-
couraged : no one can fail to be completely recompense'e for his fatigue,
SOURCE OF THE EHOKE.
when he sees, for the first time, the monarch of the Oberland, the
tremendous Finsteraarhorn. A moment before all was dulness, but a
pas further has placed us on the summit of the Furka ; and exactly
in front of us, at a hopow of only fifteen miles, this magnificent moun-
tain lifts its snow-wreathed precipices -into the deep blue sky. The
inferior mountains on each side of the pass form a sort of frame for the
picture of their dread lord, and close in the view so completely that
A TRAMP ABROAD. 281
no other prominent feature in the Oberland is visible from this bong-
a-bong ; nothing withdraws the attention from the solitary grandeur ot
the Finsteraarhorn and the dependent spurs which form the abutments
of the central peak.
With the addition of some others, who were also bound for the
Grimsel, we formed a large xhvloj as we descended the steg which
winds round the shoulder of a mountain toward the Rhone glacier. We
soon left the path and took to the ice ; and after wandering amongst
the crevasses un peu, to admire the wonders of these deep blue caverns,
and hear the rushing of waters through their subglacial channels, we
struck out a course towards V autre cote and crossed the glacier success-
fully, a little above the cave from which the infant Rhone takes its
first bound from under the grand precipice of ice. Half a mile below
this we began to climb the flowery side of the Meienwand. One or
our party started before the rest, but the Hitze was so great that we
found ilim quite exhausted, and lying at full length in the shade of a
large Gestein. We sat down with him for a time, for all felt the heat
exceedingly in the climb up this very steep bolwoggoly, and then we set
out again together, and arrived at last near the Dead Man's Lake, at the
foot of the Sidelhorn. This lonely spot, once used for an extempore
burying-place, after a sanguinary battue between the French and
Austrians, is the perfection of desolation : there is nothing in sight to
mark the hand of man, except the line of weather-beaten whitened posts,
set up to indicate the direction of the past in the oivdawakk of winter.
Near this point the footpath joins the wider track, which connects the
Grimsel with the head of the Rhone schnavjp : this has been carefully
constructed, and leads with a tortuous course among and over les
pierres, down to the bank of the gloomy little swosh-swosh, which almost
washes against the walls of the Grimsel Hospice. We arrived a little
before four o'clock at the end of our day's journey, hot enough to justify
the step, taken by most of the partie, of plunging into the crystal water
of the snow-fed lake.
The next afternoon we started for a walk up the Unteraar glacier,
with the intention of, at all events, getting as far as the Hutte which
is used as a sleeping-place by most of those who cross the Strahleck
Pass to Grindelwald. We got over the tedious collection of stones-
and debris which covers the pied of the Gletscher, and had walked
282
A TRAMP ABROAD.
nearly three hours from the Grimselj when, just as we were thinking of
crossing over to the right, to climb the cliffs at the foot of the hut,
■the clouds, which had for some time assumed a threatening appearance,
sudden!}- dropped, and a huge mass of them, driving towards us from
die Finsteraarhorn, poured down a deluge of haboolong and hail. Fortu-
"V.
A GLACIER TABLE.
mately, we were not far from a very large glacier table ; it was a huge
rock balanced on a pedestal of ice high enough to admit of our all
creeping under it for gowkaraJc. A stream of puckittypukk had furrowed
.a course for itself in the ice at its base, and we were obliged to stand with
one Fuss on each side of this, and endeavour to keep ourselves cliaud by
cutting steps in the steep bank of the pedestal, so as to get a higher place
for standing on, as the wasser rose rapidly in its trench. A very cold
bzzzzzzzzeeeee accompanied the storm, and made our position far from
pleasant ; and presently came a flash of Blitzen, apparently in the
middle of our little party, with an instantaneous clap of yokkt/, sounding
like a large gun fired close to our ears : the effect was startling ; but in
a few seconds our attention was fixed by the roaring echoes of the
thunder against the tremendous mountains which completely surrounded
us. This was followed by many more bursts, none of welche, however,
was so dangerously near ; and after waiting a long demi-houi in our
A TRAMP ABROAD. 283
icy prison, we sallied out to walk through a haboolong which, though
not so heavy as before, was quite enough to give us a thorough soaking
before our arrival at the Hospice.
The Grimsel is certainement a wonderful place; situated at the
bottom of a sort of huge crater, the sides of which are utterly savage
Gebirge, composed of barren rocks which cannot even support a single
pine arbre, and afford only scanty food for a herd of gmwkwllolp, it looks
as if it must be completely begraben in the winter snows. Enormous
avalanches fall against it every spring, sometimes covering everything
to the depth of thirty or forty feet; and, in "spite of walls four feet thick,
and furnished with outside iron shutters, the two men who stay here
when the voyageurs are snugly quartered in their distant homes can tell
you that the snow sometimes shakes the house to its foundations.
Next morning the hogglebumguilup still continued bad, but we
made up our minds to go on, and make the best of it. Half an hour
after we started the Regan thickened unpleasantly, and we attempted
to get shelter under a projecting rock, but being far too nass already to
make standing at all agreable, we pushed on for the Handeck, consoling
ourselves with the reflection that from the furious rushing of the river
Aar at our side, we should at all events see the celebrated Wasserfall
in grande perfection. Nor were we nappersocket in our expectation ;
the water was roaring down its leap of 250 feet in a most magnificent
frenzy, while the trees which cling to its rocky sides swayed to and
fro in the violence of the hurricane which it brought down with it :
even the stream, which falls into the main cascade at right angles, and
toutfois forms a beautiful feature in the scene, was now swollen into a
raging torrent ; and the violence of this l meeting of the waters,' about
fifty feet below the frail bridge where we stood, was fearfully grand.
•While we were looking at it, gUicldicheweise a gleam of sunshine came
out, and instantly a beautiful rainbow was formed by the spray, and
hung in mid air suspended over the awful gorge.
On going into the chalet above the fall, we were informed that
a Brucke had broken down near Guttanen, and that it would be impos-
sible to proceed for some time : accordingly we were kept in our drenched
condition for eine Stunde, when some voyageurs arrived from Meyringen,
and told us that there had been a trifling accident, aben that we could
now cross. On arriving at the spot, I was much inclined to suspect
'281
A TRAMP ABROAD.
isgoi^ mm kM tne more in tne ±ian-
that the whole story
was a ruse to make us
slowwlc, and drink
the more in the Han-
GLACIER OF GRINDELWALD.
carried away, and
though there might
perhaps have been
some difficulty with
mules, the gap was
certainly not larger
than a mmbglx might
cross with a very
slight leap. Near
Guttanen the haboo-
long happily ceased,
and we had time to
walk ourselves toler-
ably dry before arriv-
ing at Reich enbach,
wo we enjoyed a good
dine at the Hotel des
Alpes.
Next morning we
walked to Rosenlaui,
the beau ideal of
Swiss scenery, where
we spent the middle
of the day in an ex-
cursion to the glacier.
This was more beau-
tiful than words can
describe, for in the
constant progress of
the ice it has changed
the form of its extre-
mity, and formed a
A TRAMP ABROAD. 235
vast cavern, as blue as the sky above, and rippled like a frozen ocean.
A few steps cut in the whoopjamboreehoo enabled us to walk completely
under this, and feast our eyes upon one of the loveliest objects in crea-
tion. The glacier was all around divided by numberless fissures of the
saine exquisite colour, and the finest wood Erdbeeren were growing in
abundance but a few yards from the ice. The inn stands in a charmant
spot close to the cote de la riviere which, lower down, forms the
Reichenbach fall, and embosomed in the richest of pinewoods, while the
fine form of the Wellhorn looking down upon it completes the enchanting
hopple. In the afternoon we walked over the Great Scheideck to
Grindelwald, stopping to pay a visit to the Upper glacier by the way ;
but we were again overtaken by bad hogglebumgidlup, and arrived at
the hotel in solche a state that the landlord's wardrobe was in great
request.
The clouds by this time seemed to have done their worst, for a lovely
day succeeded, which we determined to devote to an ascent of the
Faulhorn. We left Grindelwald just as a thunderstorm was dying
away, and we hoped to find guten Wetter up above ; but the rain,
which had nearly ceased, began again, and we were struck by the
rapidly increasing froid as we ascended. Two-thirds of the way up
were completed when the rain was exchanged for gnillic, with which
the Boden was thickly covered, and before we arrived at the top the
gnillic and mist became so thick that we could not see one another
at more than twenty poopoo distance, and it became difficult to pick
our way over the rough and thickly covered ground. Shivering with
cold we turned into bed with a double allowance of clothes, and slept
comfortably while the wind howled autour de la maison : when I awoke,
the wall and the window looked equally dark, but in another hour I
found I could just see the form of the latter; so I jumped out of bed,
and forced it open, though with difficulty, from the frost and the quan-
tities of gnillic heaped up against it.
A row of huge icicles hung down from the edge of the roof, and
anything more wintry than the whole Anblick could not well be
imagined ; but the sudden appearance of the great mountains in front
was so startling that I felt no inclination to move towards bed again.
The snow which had collected upon la fenetre had increased the
Finsterniss oder der DunJcelheit, so that wheD I looked out I was sur-
286
A TRAMP ABROAD.
prised to find that the daylight was considerable, and that the balragooma
would evidently rise before long. Only the brightest of Us etoiies were
still shining ; the sky was cloudless overhead, though small curling
mists lay thousands of feet below us in the valleys, wreathed around
the feet of the mountains, and adding to the splendour of their lofty
summits. We were soon dressed and out of the house, watching the
gradual approach of dawn, thoroughly absorbed in the first near view
of the Oberland giants, which broke upon us unexpectedly after the
intense obscurity of the evening before. ' Kabaugwakho songwashee
Kum Wetterhorn snawpo!' cried some one, as that grand summit
gleamed with the first rose of dawn : and in a few moments the double
crest of the Schreckhorn followed its example ; peak after peak seemed
warmed with life, the Jungfrau blushed even more beautifully than her
DAWN ON THE MOUNTAINS.
neighbours, and soon, from the "Wetterhorn in the East to the Wildstrubel
in the West, a long row of fires glowed upon mighty altars, truly worthy
of the gods. The wlgw was very severe; our sleeping place could
hardly be distinguee from the snow around it, which had fallen to tbe
A TRAMP ABROAD. 287
depth of ajlirk during the past evening, and we heartily enjoyed a rough
scramble en has to the Giesbach falls, where we soon found a warm
climate. At noon the day before at Grindelwald the thermometer
could not have stood at less than 100° Fahr. in the sun ; and in the
evening, judging from the icicles formed, and the state of the windows r
there must have been at least twelve dingblatter of frost, thus giving a
change of 80° during a few hours.
I said —
' You have done well, Harris ; this report is concise, compact, well
expressed; the language is crisp, the descriptions are vivid and not
needlessly elaborated; your report goes straight to the point, attends
strictly to business, and doesn't fool around. It is in many ways an
excellent document. But it has a fault — it is too learned, it is much
too learned. What is " dingblatter " ? '
( Dingblatter is a Fiji word meaning " degrees." '
1 You knew the English of it, then ? '
' Oh yes.'
< What is "gnillic"V
1 That is the Esquimaux term for " snow." ■
* So you knew the English for that too ? *
'Why, certainly.'
' What does " mmbglx " stand for ? '
1 That is Zulu for " pedestrian." '
1 " While the form of the Wellhorn looking down upon it completes
the enchanting ' hopple.' 1 " What is " bopple " ? '
1 " Picture." It's Choctaw.'
'. What is schnawp " ? '
1 " Valley." That is Choctaw also.'
< What is " bolwoggohj " 1 '
1 That is Chinese for " hill." '
1 KahkaaponeeJca ? '
' " Ascent." Choctaw.'
c " But we were again overtaken by bad c hogglebumgullup? " What
does hogglebumgullup mean ? '
' That is Chinese for " weather." '
'Is hogglebumgullup better than the English word? Is it anv
more descriptive ? '
1288 A TRAMP ABROAD.
1 No, it means just the same.'
1 And dingblatter, and gnillic, — and bopple, and schnawp, — are they
better than the English words ? '
' No, they mean just what the English ones do.'
1 Then why do you use them ? Why have you used all this Chinese
and Choctaw and Zulu rubbish ? '
' Because I didn't know any French but two or three words, and 1
didn't know any Latin or Greek at all.'
' That is nothing. Why should you want to use foreign words,
anyhow ? '
' To adorn my page. They all do it.'
< Who is " all " ? '
I Everybody. Everybody that writes elegantly. Anybody has a
right to that wants to.'
I I think you are mistaken.' I then proceeded in the following
Ecathing manner: — 'When really learned men write books for other
learned men to read, they are justified in using as many learned words
as they please — their audience will understand them ; but a man who
writes a book for the general public to read is not justified in disfiguring
his pages with untranslated foreign expressions. It is an insolence
toward the majority of the purchasers, for it is a very frank and im-
pudent way of saying, " Get the translations made yourself if you
want them ; this book is not written for the ignorant classes." There
are men who know a foreign language so well, and have used it so
long in their daily life, that they seem to discharge whole volleys of it
into their English writings unconsciously, and so they omit to translate,
as much as half the time. That is a great cruelty to nine out of ten
of the man's readers. What is the excuse for this? The writer would
Bay he only uses the foreign language where the delicacy of his point
cannot be conveyed in English. Very well, then he writes his best
things for the tenth man, and he ought to warn the other nine not to
buy his book. However, the excuse he offers is at least an excuse ;
but there is another set of men who are like you : they know a word
heie and there, of a foreign language, or a few beggarly little three-word
phrases, filched from the back of the Dictionary, and these they are con-
tinually peppering into their literature, with a pretence of knowing
that language, — what excuse can they offer ? The foreign words and
A TRAMP ABROAD.
289
phrases which they use have their exact equivalents in a nobler language,
— English ; yet they think they " adorn their page " when they say
Strasse for street, and Balinhof Tor railway-station, and so on, — flaunting
these fluttering rags of poverty in the reader's face, and imagining he
will be ass enough to take them for the sign of untold riches held in
reserve. I will let your " learning " remain in your report ; you have
as much right, I suppose, to " adorn your page" with Zulu and Chinese
and Choctaw rubbish, as others of your sort have to adorn theirs with
insolent odds and ends smouched from half-a-dozen learned tongues
whose a-b abs they don't even know.'
When the musing spider steps upon the red-hot shovel, he first
exhibits a wild surprise, then he shrivels up. Similar was the effect
of these blistering words upon the tranquil and unsuspecting Agent.
I can be dreadfully rough on a person when the mood takes me.
A 'BEST.
2:0 A TRAMP ABROAD.
CHAPTER XXXI.
We now prepared for a considerable walk — from Lucerne to Interlaken,.
over the Briinig Pass. But at the last moment the weather was so
good that I changed my mind and hired a four-horse carriage. It was
a huge vehicle, roomy, as easy in its motion as a palanquin, and exceed-
ingly comfortable.
We got away pretty early in the morning, after a hot breakfast, and
went bowling along over a hard, smooth road, through the summer
loveliness of Switzerland, with near and distant lakes and mountains
before and about us for the entertainment of the eye, and the music
of multitudinous birds to charm the ear. Sometimes there was only
the width of the road between the imposing precipices on the right
and the clear cool water on the left with its shoals of uncatchable fishes
skimming about through the bars of sun and shadow ; and sometimes.
in place of the precipices, the grassy land stretched away, in an appar-
ently endless upward slant, and was dotted everywhere with snug little
chalets, the peculiarly captivating cottage of Switzerland.
The ordinary chalet turns a broad, honest gable end to the road,,
and its ample roof hovers over the home in a protecting, caressing
way, projecting its sheltering eaves far outward. The quaint windows-
are filled with little panes, and garnished with white muslin curtains,
and brightened with boxes of blooming flowers. Across the front of the
house, and up the spreading eaves, and along the fanciful railings of
the shallow porch, are elaborate carvings — wreaths, fruits, arabesques,
verses from Scripture, names, dates, etc. The building is wholly of
wood, reddish brown in tint, a very pleasing colour. It generally has
vines climbing over it. Set such a house against the fresh green of the
hillside, and it looks ever so cosy and inviting and picturesque, and is
a decidedly graceful addition to the landscape.
A TRAMP ABROAD.
291
One does not find out what a hold the chalet has taken upon him
until he presently comes upon a new house — a house which is aping
the town fashions of Germany and France, a prim, hideous, straight-
up-and-down thing, plastered all over on the outside to look like stone,
and altogether so stiff, and formal, and ugly, and forbidding, and so out
of tune with the gracious landscape, and so deaf and dumb and dead
to the poetry of its surroundings, that it suggests an undertaker at a
picnic, a corpse at a wedding, a puritan in Paradise.
In the course of the morning we passed the spot where Pontius
Pilate is said to have thrown himself into the lake. The legend goes
that after the Crucifixion his conscience troubled him and he fled from
Jerusalem and wandered about the earth, weary of life and a prey to
NEW AND OLD STYLE.
tortures of the mind. Eventually he hid himself away, on the heights
of Mount Pilatus, and dwelt alone among the clouds and crags for years ;
but rest and peace were still denied him, so he finally put an end to his
misery by drowning himself.
Presently we passed the place where a man of better odour was
born. This was the children's friend Santa Claus, or St. Nicholas.
There are some unaccountable reputations in the world. This saint's is
an instance. He has ranked for ages as the peculiar friend of children,
yet it appears he was not much of a friend to his own. He had ten
of them, and when fifty years old he left them, and sought out as dismal
a refuge from the world as possible and became a hermit in order that
v 2
L'92
A TRAMP ABROAD.
he might reflect upon pious themes without being disturbed by the
joyous and other noises from the nursery, doubtless.
Judging by
Pilate and St.
Nicholas, there
exists no rule for
the construction
of hermits : they
seem made out of
all kinds of ma-
terial. But Pi-
late attended to
the matter of ex-
piating his sin
while he was
alive, whereas St.
Nicholas will pro-
bably have to go
on climbing down
sooty chimneys,
Christmas Eve,
for ever, and conferring kindness on
other people's children, to make up
for deserting his own. His bones
are kept in a church in a village
(Sachseln), which we visited, and
are naturally held in great rever-
ence. His portrait is common in
the farmhouses of the region, but is
believed by many to be but an in-
different likeness. During his her-
mit life, according to the legend, he
st. Nicholas the hekmit. partook of the bread and wine of
the communion once a month, but all the rest of the month he fasted.
A constant marvel with us, as we sped along the bases of the steep
mountains, on this journey, was, not that avalanches occur, but that
they are not occurring all the time. One does not understand why
A TRAMP ABROAD.
203
rocks and landslides do not plunge down these declivities daily. A land-
slip occurred three quarters of a century ago, on the route from Arth
to Brunnen, which
was a formidable
thing. A mass of con-
glomerate two miles
long, a thousand feet
broad, and a hundred
feet thick, broke away
from a cliff three thou-
sand feet high and
hurled itself into the
valley below, burying
four villages and five
hundred people, as in
a grave.
We had such a
beautiful day, and such
endless pictures of
limpid lakes, and green
hills and valleys, and
majestic mountains,
and milky cataracts
dancing down the
steeps and gleaming in
the sun, that we could
not help feeling sweet
toward all the world ;
so we tried to drink
all the milk, and eat
all the grapes and apri-
cots and berries, and
buy all the bouquets
of wild flowers which
the little peasant boys
and girls offered for sale ; but we had to retire from this contract, for
it was too heavy. At short distances — and they were entirely too
A LANDSLIDE.
m
A TRAMP ABROAD.
short — all along the road, were groups of neat and comely children,
with their wares nicely and temptingly set forth in the grass under the
GOLDAU VALLEY BEFORE AND AFTER THE LANDSLIDE.
shade trees, and as soon as we approached they swarmed into the
A TRAMP ABROAD. 295
road, holding out their baskets and milk bottles, and ran beside the
carriage, barefoot and bareheaded, and importuned us to buy. They
seldom desisted early, but continued to run and insist — beside the wag-
gon while they could, and behind it until they lost breath. Then they
turned and chased a returning carriage back to their trading post again.
After several hours of this, without any intermission, it becomes, almost
annoying. I do not know what we should have done without the
returning carriages to draw off the pursuit. However, there were
plenty of these, loaded with dusty tourists and piled high with luggage.
Indeed, from Lucerne to Interlaken we had the spectacle, among other
scenery, of an unbroken procession of fruit pedlars and tourist
carriages.
Our talk was mostly anticipatory of what we should see on the
down grade of the Briinig, by-and-by, after we should pass the summit.
All our friends in Lucerne had said that to look down upon Meiringen,
and the rushing blue-gray river Aar, and the broad level green valley;
and across at the mighty Alpine precipices that rise straight up to the
clouds out of that valley ; and up at the microscopic chalets perched
upon the dizzy eaves of those precipices and winking dimly and fitfully
through the drifting veil of vapour ; and still up and up, at the superb
Oltschibach and the other beautiful cascades that leap from those rugged
heights, robed in powdery spray, ruffled with foam, and girdled with
rainbows — to look upon these things, they said, was to look upon the
last possibility of the sublime and the enchanting. Therefore, as I say,
we talked mainly of these coming wonders ; if we were conscious of
any impatience, it was to get there in favourable season ; if we felt
any anxiety, it was that the day might remain perfect, and enable us to
see thos(; marvels at their best.
As we approached the Kaiserstuhl, a part of the harness gave way.
We were in distress for a moment, but only a moment. It was the
fore-and-aft gear that was broken — the thing that leads aft from the
forward part of the horse and is made fast to the thing that pulls the
waggon. In America this would have been a heavy leathern strap ;
but all over the Continent it is nothing but apiece of rope the size of
your little finger — clothes-line is what it is. Cabs use it, private
carriages, freight carts and waggons, all sorts of vehicles have it. In
Munich I afterwards saw it used on a long waggon laden with fifty-
296
A TRAMP ABROAD.
four half-barrels of beer; I had before noticed that the cabs in Heidel-
berg used it; — not new rope, but rope that had been in use since
Abraham's time — and I had felt nervous, sometimes, behind it, when
the cab was tearing down a hill. But I had long been accustomed to
it now, and had even become afraid of the leather strap which belonged
in its place. Our driver got a fresh piece of clothes-line out of his
locker and repaired the break in two minutes.
So much for one European fashion. Every country has its own
THE WAY THEY DO IT.
ways. It may interest the reader to know how they ' put horses to *
on the Continent. The man stands up the horses on each side of the
thing that projects from the front end of the waggon, and then throAvs
the tangled mass of gear on top of the horses, and passes the thing that
goes forward through a ring, and hauls it aft, and passes the other
thing through the other ring and hauls it aft on the other side of the
other horse, opposite to the first one, after crossing them and bringing
the loose end back, and then buckles the other thing underneath the
A TRAMP ABROAD.
297
horse, and takes another thing and wraps it around the thing I spoke of
before, and puts another thing over each horse's head, with broad
flappers to it to keep the dust out of his eyes, and puts the iron thing
in his mouth for him to grit his teeth on, up hill, and brings the
ends of these things aft over his back, after buckling another one around
under his neck to hold -his head up, and hitching, another thing on a
thing that goes over his shoulders to keep his head up when he is
climbing a hill, and then
takes the slack of the
thing which I mentioned
a while ago, and fetchc s
it aft and makes it fast to
the thing that pulls the
w^aggon, and hands the
other things up to the
driver to steer with. I
never have buckled up a
horse myself, but I do
not think we do it that
way.
We had four very
handsome horses, and
the driver was very proud
of his turn-out. He
would bowl along on a
reasonable trot, on the
highway, but when he
entered a village he did
it on a furious run, and
accompanied it with a
frenzy of ceaseless whip
crackings that sounded
like volleys of musketry. He tore through the narrow streets and
around the sharp curves like a moving earthquake, showering hia
volleys as he went, and before him swept a continuous tidal wave of
scampering children, ducks, cats, and mothers clasping babies which
they had snatched out of the way of the coming destruction; and as
OUR GALLANT DRIVER.
298 A TRAMP ABROAD.
this living wave washed aside, along the walls, its elements, being
safe, forgot their fears and turned their admiring gaze upon that gallant
driver till he thundered around the next curve and was lost to sight.
He was a great man to those villagers, .with his gaudy clothes and
his terrific ways. "Whenever he stopped to have his cattle watered
and fed with loaves of bread, the villagers stood around admiring him
while he swaggered about, the little boys gazed up at his face with
humble homage, and the landlord brought out foaming mugs of beer
and conversed proudly with him while he drank. Then he mounted
his lofty box, swung his explosive whip, and away he went again, like
a storm. I had not seen anything like this before since I was a boy,
and the stage used To flourish through the village with the dust flying
and the horn tooting.
When Ave reached the base of the Kaiserstuhl, we took two more
horses ; we had to toil along with difficulty for an hour and a half or
two hours, for the ascent was not very gradual, but when we passed
the backbone and approached the station, the driver surpassed all his
previous efforts in the way of rush and clatter. He could not have
six horses all the time, so he made the most of his chance while he
had it.
Up to this point we had been in the heart of the William Tell
region. The hero is not forgotten, by any means, or held in doubtful
veneration. His wooden image, with his bow drawn, above the doors
of taverns, was a frequent feature of the scenery.
About noon we arrived at the foot of the Briinig pass, and made
a two-hour stop at the village hotel, another of those clean, pretty, and
thoroughly well-kept inns which are such an astonishment to people
who are accustomed to hotels of a dismally different pattern in remote
country towns. There was a lake here, in the lap of the great moun-
tains, the green slopes that rose toward the lower crags were graced
with scattered Swiss cottages nestling among miniature farms and
gardens, and from out a leafy ambuscade on the upper heights tumbled
a brawling cataract.
Carriage after carriage, laden with tourists and trunks, arrived, and
the quiet hotel was soon populous. We were early at the table d'hote,
and saw the people all come in. There were twenty-five, perhaps.
They were of various nationalities, but we were the only Americans.
A TRAMP ABROAD. 299
Next to me sat an English bride, and next to her sat her new husband
THE MOUNTAIN PASS.
whom she called 'Neddy/ though he was big enough and stalwan
130
A TRAMP ABROAD.
enough to be entitled to his full name. They had a pretty little
lovers' quarrel over what wine they should have. Neddy was for obey-
ing the guide-book and taking the wine of the country ; but the bride
said —
' What, that nahsty stuff ! '
' It isn't nahsty, Pet, it's quite good.'
' It is nahsty.'
' No, it isn't nahsty.'
4 It's oful nahsty, Neddy, and I shahn't drink it.'
Then the question was, what she must have. She said he knew
very well that she never
drank anything but cham-
pagne. She added —
1 You know very well
papa always has champagne
on his table, and I've always
been used to it.'
Neddy made a playful
pretence of being distressed
about the expense, and this
amused her so much that
she nearly exhausted her-
self* with laughter, and this
pleased liim so much that
he repeated his jest a couple
of times, and added new and
killing varieties to it. When
the bride finally recovered,
she gave Neddy a love-box
on the arm with her fan, and said with arch severity —
' Well, you would have me — nothing else would do — so you'll have
to make the best of a bad bargain. Do order the champagne, I'm oful
dry.'
So with a mock groan which made her laugh again, Neddy ordered
the champagne.
The fact that this young woman had never moistened the selvedge
edge of her soul with a less plebeian tipple than champagne had a marked
' I'M OJb'UL DRY.
A TRAMP ABROAD.
301
and subduing effect upon Harris. He believed she belonged to the
royal family. But I had rny doubts.
We heard two or three different languages spoken by people at the
table, and guessed out the nationalities of most of the guests to our
satisfaction, but we failed with an elderly gentleman and his wife and
a young girl who sat opposite us,
and with a gentleman of about
thirty-five who sat three seats be-
yond Harris. We did not hear any
of these speak. But finally the
last-named gentleman left while we
were not noticing, but we looked
up as he reached the far end of
the table. He stopped there a
moment, and made his toilet with
a pocket comb. So he was a
German ; or else he had lived in
German hotels long enough to
catch the fashion. When the
elderly couple and the young girl
rose to leave they bowed re-
spectfully to us. So they were
Germans, too. This national
custom is worth six of the other
one, for export.
After dinner we talked with
several Englishmen, and they inflamed our desire, to a hotter degree
than ever, to see the sights of Meiringen from the heights of the
Briinig pass. They said the view was marvellous, and that one who
had seen it once could never forget it. They also spoke of the romantic
nature of the road over the pass, and how in one place it had been cut
through a flank of the solid rock, in such a way that the mountain
overhung the tourist as he passed by ; and they furthermore said that
the sharp turns in the road and the abruptness of the descent would
afford us a thrilling experience, for we should go down in a flying gallop
and seem to be spinning around the rings of a whirlwind, like a drop
of whisky descending the spirals of a corkscrew. I got all the informa-
IT S THE FASHION.
302
A TRAMP ABROAD.
tion out of these gentlemen that we could need ; and then, to make
everything complete, I asked them if a body could get hold of a little
fruit and milk here and there, in case
of necessity. They threw up their
hands in speechless intimation that the
road was simply paved with refresh-
ment pedlars. We were impatient to
get away now, and the rest of our two-
hour stop rather dragged. But finally
the set time arrived and we began the
ascent. Indeed, it was a wonderful
road. It was smooth, and compact,
and clean, and the side next the preci-
pices was guarded
all along by dressed
stone posts about
three feet high,
placed at short dis-
tances apart. The
road could not have
been better built if
Napoleon the First
had built it. He
seems to have been
the introducer of
the sort of roads
which Europe now
uses. All literature
which describes life
as it existed in Eng-
and, France, and
Germany up to the
close of the last cen-
tury is filled with pictures of coaches and carriages wallowing through
these three countries in mud and slush half- wheel deep; but after
Napoleon had floundered through a conquered kingdom he generally
arranged things so that the rest of the world could follow dry shod.
WHAT WE EXPECTED.
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A TRAMP ABROAD. 305
We went on climbing, higher and higher, and curving hither and
thither, in the shade of noble woods, and with a rich variety and profu-
sion of wild flowers all about us ; and glimpses of rounded grassy back-
bones below us occupied by trim chalets and nibbling sheep, and other
glimpses of far lower altitudes, where distance diminished the chalets
to toys and obliterated the sheep altogether ; and every now and then
some ermined monarch of the Alps swung magnificently into view for
a moment, then drifted past an intervening spur and disappeared again.
It was an intoxicating trip, altogether; the exceeding sense of
satisfaction that follows a good dinner added largely to the enjoyment;
the having something especial to look forward to, and muse about, like
the approaching grandeurs of Meiringen, sharpened the zest. Smoking
was never so good before, solid comfort was never solider ; we lay
back against the thick cushions, silent, meditative, steeped in felicity.
•***■*■***
I rubbed nry eyes, opened them, and started. I had been dreaming
I was at sea, and it was a thrilling surprise to wake up and find land all
around me. It took me a couple of seconds to ' come to,' as you may
say ; then I took in the situation. The horses were drinking at a
trough in the edge oi a town, the driver was taking beer, Harris
was snoring at my side; the courier, with folded arms and bowed
head, was sleeping on the box ; two dozen barefooted and bareheaded
children were gathered about the carriage, with their hands crossed
behind, gazing up with serious and innocent admiration at the dozing
tourists baking there in the sun. Several small girls held night-capped
babies nearly as big as themselves in their arms, and even these fat
babies seemed to take a sort of sluggish interest in us.
We had slept an hour and a half and missed all the scenery ! I
did not need anybody to tell me that. If I had been a girl, I could
have cursed for vexation. As it Avas, I woke up the agent and gave
him a piece of my mind. Instead of being humiliated, he only up-
braided me for being so wanting in vigilance. He said he had expected
to improve his mind by coming to Europe, but a man might travel to
the ends of the earth with me and never see anything, for I was
manifestly endowed with the very genius of ill-luck. He even tried to
.get up some emotion about that poor courier, who never got a chance
to see anything, on account of my heedlessness. But when I thought
x
306
A TBAJSIP ABROAD.
I had borne about enough of this kind of talk, I threatened to make
Harris tramp back to the summit and make a report on that sceneiy,
and this suggestion spiked his battery.
We drove sullenly through Brienz, dead to the seductions of its
bewildering array of Swiss carvings and the clamorous ^oo-hooing of
its cuckoo clocks, and had not entirely recovered our spirits when we
rattled across the bridge over the rushing blue river and entered the
pretty town of Interlaken. It w r as just about sunset, and we had
made the trip from Lucerne in ten hours*
"W&mi
THE TOURISTS.
A TRAMP ABROAD. 307
CHAPTER XXXII,
We located ourselves at the Jungfrau Hotel, one of those huge estab-
lishments which the needs of modern travel have created in every
attractive spot on the Continent. There was a great gathering at
dinner, and as usual one heard all sorts of languages.
The table d'hote was served by waitresses dressed in the quaint
and comely costume of the Swiss peasants. This consists of a simple
gros de laine, trimmed with ashes of roses, with overskirt of sacrebleu
ventre saint gris, cut bias on the off side, with facings of petit polonaise
and narrow insertions of pate de foie gras backstitched to the mise-
en-scene in the form of a jeu d'esprit. It gives to the wearer a
singularly piquant and alluring aspect.
One of these waitresses, a woman of forty, had side whiskers
reaching half way down her jaw. They were two ringers broad, dark
in colour, pretty thick, and the hairs were an inch long. One sees
many women on the Continent with quite conspicuous moustaches, but
this was the only woman I saw who had reached the dignity of
whiskers.
After dinner the guests of both sexes distributed themselves about
the front porches and the ornamental grounds belonging to the hotel,
to enjoy the cool air ; but as the twilight deepened towards darkness,
they gathered themselves together in that saddest and solemnest and
most constrained of all places, the great blank drawing-room which
is a chief feature of all Continental summer hotels. There they
grouped themselves about, in couples and threes, and mumbled in
bated voices, and looked timid and homeless and forlorn.
There was a small piano in this room, a clattery, wheezy, asthmatic
thing, certainly the very worst miscarriage in the way of a piano that
the world has seen. In turn, five or six dejected and home-sick ladies
approached it doubtingly, gave it a single inquiring thump, and retired
x2
308
A TRAMP ABROAD.
with the lockjaw. But the boss of that instrument was to come,
nevertheless; and from my own country — from Ark an saw. . She was
a brand-new bride, innocent, girlish, happy in herself and her grave
and worshipping stripling of a husband ; she was about eighteen,
just out of school, free from affectations, unconscious of that passionless
multitude around her ; and the very first time she smote that old
wreck one recognised that it had met its destiny. Her stripling brought
an armful of aged sheet
music from their room —
for this bride went ' heeled,'
as you might say — and bent
himself lovingly over and
got ready to turn the pages.
The bride fetched a
swoop with her fingers from
one end of the key-board to
the other, just to get her
bearings, as it were, and
you could see the con-
gregation set their teeth
with the agony of it. Then,
without any more prelimin-
aries, she turned on all the
the youa'g bride, horrors of the 'Battle of
Prague,' that venerable shivaree, and waded chin-deep in the blood
of the slain. She made a fair and honourable average of two false
notes in every five, but her soul was in arms and she never stopped to
correct. The audience stood it with pretty fair grit for a while, but
when the cannonade waxed hotter and fiercer, and the discord-average
rose to four in five, the procession began to move. A few stragglers
held their ground ten minutes longer, but when the girl began to
wring the true inwardness out of the ' cries of the wounded,' they
struck their colours and retired in a kind of panic.
There never was a completer victory ; I was the only non-com-
batant left on the field. I would not have deserted my country-
woman anyhow, but indeed I had no desires in that direction.
None of us like mediocrity, but we all reverence perfection. This
A TRAMP ABROAD.
309
girl's music was perfection in its way ; it was the worst music that
had ever been achieved on our planet by a mere human being.
I moved up close, and never lost a strain. When she got through,
I asked her to play it again. She did it with a pleased alacrity and a
heightened enthusiasm. She made it all discords, this time. She got
an amount of anguish into the cries of the wounded that shed a new
light on human suffering. She was on the war-path all the evening.
All the time, crowds of people pothered on the porches and pressed
•IT WAS A FAMOUS VICTORY.
their noses against the windows to look and marvel, but the bravest
never ventured in. The bride went off satisfied and happy with her
young fellow, when her appetite was finally gorged, and the tourists
swarmed in again.
What a change has come over Switzerland, and in fact all Europe,
during this century ! Seventy or eighty years ago Napoleon was
the only man in Europe who could really be called a traveller ; he was
the only man who had devoted his attention to it and taken a powerful
310
A TRAMP ABROAD.
interest in it ; he was the only man who had travelled extensively ;
but now everybody goes everywhere ; and Switzerland, and many
other regions which were unvisited and unknown remotenesses a
hundred years ago, are in our days a buzzing hive of restless strangers
every summer. But I digress.
In the morning, when we looked out of our windows, we saw a
wonderful sight. Across the valley, and apparently quite neigh-
bourly and close at hand, the giant form of the Jungfrau rose cold
and white into the clear sky, beyond a gateway in the nearer highlands.
It reminded me, somehow, of one of those colossal billows which
swell suddenly up beside one's ship, at sea, sometimes, with its crest
and shoulders snowy white, and the rest of its noble proportions streaked
downward with creamy foam.
I took out my sketch-book and made a little picture of the
Jungfrau, merely to get the shape.
I do not regard this as one of my finished works, in fact I do not
rank it among my Works at all; it is only a study; it is hardly
more than what one might call a sketch. Other artists have done me
the grace to admire it ; but I am severe in my judgments of my own
pictures, and this one does not move me.
It was hard to believe that that lofty wooded rampart on the left
which so overtops the Jungfrau was not actually the higher of the
j&filte^ two, but it was not, of course. It is only 2,000
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A TRAMP ABROAD. 313
or 3,000 feet high, and of course has no snow upon it in summer,
whereas the Jungfrau is not much short of 14,000 feet high, and there-
fore that lowest verge of snow — on her side, which seems nearly down
to the valley level — is really about 7,000 feet higher up in the air than
the summit of that wooded rampart. It is the distance that makes the
deception. The wooded height is but four or five miles removed from
us, but the Jungfrau is four or five times that distance away.
Walking down the street of shops, in the forenoon, I was attracted
by a large picture, carved, frame and all, from a single block of
chocolate- coloured wood. There are people who know everything.
Some cf these had told us that continental shopkeepers always raise
their prices on English and Americans. Many people had told us it
was expensive to buy things through a courier, whereas I had supposed
it was just the reverse. When I saw this picture I conjectured that it
was worth more than the friend I proposed to buy it for would like to
pay, but still it was worth while to inquire ; so I told the courier to
step in and ask the price, as if he wanted it for himself; I told him
not to speak in English, and above all not to reveal the fact that he
was a courier. Then I moved on a few yards, and waited.
The courier came presently and reported the price. I said to
myself, ' It is a hundred francs too much,' and so dismissed the matter
from my mind. But in the afternoon I was passing that place with
Harris, and the picture attracted me again. We stepped in to see
how much higher broken German would raise the price. The shop-
woman named a figure just a hundred francs lower than the courier had
named. This was a pleasant surprise. I said I would take it. After
[ had given directions as to where it was to be shipped, the shopwoman
said, appealingly —
1 If you please, do not let your courier know you bought it.'
This was an unexpected remark. I said —
' What makes you think I have a courier ? '
* Ah, that is very simple ; he told me himself.'
' He was very thoughtful. But tell me — why did you charge him
more than you are charging me ? '
' That is very simple, also : I do not have to pay you a percentage.'
' Oh, I begin to see. You would have had to pay the courier a per-
centage ? '
314 A Til A. IIP ABROAD.
'Undoubtedly. The courier always has his percentage. In this
case it would have been a hundred francs.
' Then the tradesman does not pay a part of it — the purchaser pays
all of it?'
4 There are occasions when the tradesman and the courier agree
upon a price which is twice or thrice the value of the article, then
the two divide, and both get a percentage.'
'I see. But it seems to me that the purchaser does all the paying,
even then.'
' Oh, to be sure ! It goes without saying.'
' But I have bought this picture myself; therefore why shouldn't
the courier know it ? '
The woman exclaimed, in distress —
' Ah, indeed it would take all my little profit ! He would come
and demand his hundred francs, and I should have to pay.'
1 He has not done the buying. You could refuse.'
' I could not dare to refuse. He would never bring travellers here
again. More than that, he would denounce me to the other couriers,
they would divert custom from me, and my business would be
injured.'
I went away in a thoughtful frame of mind. I began to see why a
courier could afford to work for fifty-five dollars a month and his fares.
A month or two later I was able to understand why a courier did not
have to pay any board and lodging, and why my hotel bills were
always larger when I had him with me than when I left him behind,
somewhere, for a few days.
Another thing was also explained, now, apparently. In one town
1 had taken the courier to the bank to do the translating when I drew
some money. I had sat in the reading-room till the transaction was
finished. Then a clerk had brought the money to me in person,
and had been exceedingly polite, even going so far as to precede me
to the door and hold it open for me and bow me out as if I had
been a distinguished personage. It was a new experience. Exchange
had been in my favour ever since I had been in Europe, but just
that one time. I got simply the face of my draft, and no extra francs,
whereas I had expected to get quite a number of them. This was the
lirst time 1 had ever used the courier at a bank. I had suspected
A TRAMP ABROAD.
317
•something then, and as long as he remained with me afterwards I
managed bank matters by myself.
Still, if I felt that I could afford the tax, I would never travel
without a courier, for a good courier is a convenience whose value
cannot be estimated in dollars and cents. "Without him, travel is a
bitter harassment, a purgatory of little exasperating annoyances, a
ceaseless and pitiless punishment — I mean to an irascible man who
has no business capacity and is confused by details.
Without a courier, travel hasn't a ray of pleasure in it, anywhere ;
WITHOUT A COURIER.
but with him it is a continuous and unruffled delight. He is always
at hand, never has to be sent for ; if your bell is not answered promptly
— and it seldom is — you have only to open the door and speak, the
courier will hear, and he will have the order attended to or raise an
insurrection. You tell him what day you will start, and whither you
are going — leave all the rest to him. You need not inquire about
trains or fares, or car changes, or hotels, or anything else. At the
proper time he will put you in a cab or an omnibus, and drive you
to the train or the boat ; he has packed your luggage and transferred
it, he has paid all the bills. Other people have preceded you half an
318
A TRAMP ABROAD.
hour to scramble for impossible places and lose their tempers, but you
can take your time, the courier has secured your seats for you, and
you can occupy them at your leisure.
At the station, the crowd mash one another to pulp in the effort
to get the weighers' attention to their trunks ; they dispute hotly with
these tyrants, who are cool and indifferent ; they get their baggage
billets, at last, and then have another squeeze and another rage over
the disheartening business of trying to get them recorded and paid for,
TRAVELLING WITH A COURIER.
and still another over the equally disheartening business of trying
to get near enough to the ticket office to buy a ticket ; and now, with
their tempers gone to the dogs, they must stand penned up and packed
together, laden with wraps and satchels and shawl-straps, with the
weary wife and babies, in the waiting-room, till the doors are thrown
open — and then all hands make a grand final rush to the train, find it
full, and have to stand on the platform and fret until some more cars
are put on. They are in a condition to kill somebody by this time.
A. TRAMP ABROAD. 310
Meantime you have been sitting in your car, smoking, and observing
all this misery in the extremest comfort.
On the journey the guard is polite and watchful — won't allow
anybody to get into your compartment — tells them you are just re-
covering from the small-pox and do not like to be disturbed. For the
courier has made everything right with the guard. At way-stations
the courier comes to your compartment to see if you want a glass of
water, or a newspaper, or anything ; at eating-stations he sends luncheon
out to you, while the other people scramble and worry in the dining-
rooms. If anything breaks, about the car you are in, and the station-
master proposes to pack you and your agent into a compartment with
strangers, the courier reveals to him confidentially that you are a
French duke, born deaf and dumb, and the official comes and makes
affable signs that he has ordered a choice car to be added to the train
for you.
At custom-houses the multitude rile tediously through, hot and
irritated, and look on while the officers burrow into the trunk >
and make a mess of everything ; but you hand your keys to the courier
and sit still. Perhaps you arrive at your destination in a rainstom.
at ten at night — you generally do. The multitude spend half an
hour verifying their baggage and getting it transferred to the minibuses:
but the courier puts you into a vehicle without a moment's loss of time,
and when you reach your hotel you find your rooms have been secured
two or three days in advance, everything is ready, you can go at
once to bed. Some of those other people will have to drift around to
two or three hotels, in the rain, before they find accommodations.
I have not set down half of the virtues that are vested in a good
courier, but I think I have set down a sufficiency of them to show
that an irritable man who can afford one and does not employ him is
not a wise economist. My courier was the worst one in Europe, yet he
was a good deal better than none at all. It could not pay him to be a
better one than he was, because I could not afford to buy things
through him. He was a good enough courier for the small amount
he got out of his service. Yes, to travel with a courier is bliss, to
travel without one is the reverse.
I have had dealings with some very bad couriers; but I have also
had dealings with one who might fairly be called perfection. He was
S20
A TRAMP ABROAD.
a young Polander, named Joseph N. Verey. He spoke eight languages,
and seemed to be equally at home in all of them ; he was shrewd, prompt,
posted, and punctual; he was fertile in resources, and singularly
gifted in the matter of overcoming difficulties ; he not only knew
how to do everything in his line, but he knew the best ways and the
quickest ; he was handy with children and invalids ; all his employer
needed to do was to take life easy and leave everything to the courier.
His address is, care of Mr. 0. H. Caygill, 371 Strand, London.
Excellent couriers are somewhat rare ; if the reader is about to travel,
he will find it to his advantage to make a note of this one.
TRAVELLERS TRIALS.
A TRAMP ABROAD. 321
CHAPTER XXXIII.
The beautiful Giesbach Fall is near Interlaken, on the other side
of the lake of Brienz, and is illuminated every night with those
gorgeous theatrical fires whose name I cannot call just at this moment.
This was said to be a spectacle which the tourist ought by no means to
miss. I was strongly tempted, but I could not go there with propriety,
because one goes in a boat. The task which I had set myself was to
walk over Europe on foot, not skim over it in a boat. I had made
a tacit contract with myself ; it was my duty to abide by it. I was
willing to make boat-trips for pleasure, but I could not conscientiously
make thern in the way of business.
It cost me something of a pang to lose that fine sight, but I lived
down the desire, and gained in my self-respect through the triumph. I
had a finer and a grander sight, however, where I was. This was the
mighty dome of the Jungfrau softly outlined against the sky and faintly
silvered by the starlight. There Was something subduing in the in-
fluence of that silent and solemn and awful presence ; one seemed to
meet the immutable, the indestructible, the eternal, face to face, and
to feel the trivial and fleeting nature of his own existence the more
sharply by the contrast. One had the sense of being under the brood-
ing contemplation of a spirit, not an inert mass of rocks and ice — a spirit
which had looked down, through the slow drift of the ages, upon a
million vanished races of men, and judged them ; and would judge a
million more — and still be there, watching, unchanged and unchange-
able, after all life should be gone and the earth have become a
vacant desolation.
While I was feeling these things, I was groping, without know-
ing it, toward an understanding of what the spell is which people find
Y
322 A TRAMP ABROAD.
in the Alps, and in no other mountains — that strange, deep, nameless
influence which, once felt, cannot be forgotten — once felt, leaves always
behind it a restless longing to feel it again — a longing which is like
homesickness ; a grieving, haunting yearning, which will plead, im-
plore, and persecute till it has its will. I met dozens of people, imagi-
native and unimaginative, cultivated and uncultivated, who had come
from far countries and roamed through the Swiss Alps year after year
— they could not explain why. They had come first, they said, out
of idle curiosity, because everybody talked about it ; they had come
since because they could not help it, and they should keep on coming,
while they lived, for the same reason ; they had tried to break their
chains and stay away, but it was futile ; now they had no desire to
break them. Others came nearer formulating what they felt ; they
said they could find perfect rest and peace nowhere else when they
were troubled ; all frets and worries and chafings sank to sleep in
the presence of the benignant serenity of the Alps ; the Great Spirit
of the Mountain breathed his own peace upon their hurt minds and sore
hearts, and healed them ; they could not think base thoughts or do
mean and sordid things here, before the visible throne of God.
Down the road a piece was a Kursaal — whatever that may be —
and we joined the human tide to see what sort of enjoyment it might
afford. It was the usual open-air concert, in an ornamental garden,
with wines, beer, milk, whey, grapes, etc. — the whey and the grapes
being necessaries of life to certain invalids whom physicians cannot
repair, and who only continue to exist by the grace of whey or grapes.
One of these departed spirits told me, in a sad and lifeless way, that
there was no way for him to live but by whey ; never drank anything,
now, but whey, and dearly, dearly loved whey, he didn't know whey he -
did, but he did. After making this pun he died — that is the whey
it served him.
Some other remains, preserved from decomposition by the grape
system, told me that the grapes were of a peculiar breed, highly
medicinal in their nature, and that they were counted out and adminis-
tered by the grape-doctors as methodically as if they were pills. The
new patient, if very feeble, began with one grape before breakfast,
took three during breakfast, a couple between meals, five at luncheon,
three in the afternoon, seven at dinner, four for supper, and part of a
A TRAMP ABROAD.
323
grape just before going to bed by way of a general regulator. The
quantity was gradually and regularly increased, according to the needs
and capacities of the patient, until by-and-by you would find him dispos-
ing of his one grape per second all the day long, and his regular barrel
per day.
He said that men cured in this way, and enabled to discard the
grape system, never afterwards got over the habit of talking as if they
were dictating to a slow amanuensis, because they always made a
pause between each two words while they sucked the substance out of
an imaginary grape. He said these were tedious people to talk with.
He said that men who had been cured by the other process were
GRAPE AND WHEY PATIENTS.
easily distinguished from the rest of mankind because they always
tilted their heads back between every two words, and swallowed a
swig of imaginary whey. He said it was an impressive thing to
observe two men who had been cured by the two processes engaged
in conversation — said their pauses and accompanying movements were
so continuous and regular that a stranger would think himself in the
presence of a couple of automatic machines. One finds out a great
many wonderful things by travelling if he stumbles upon the right
person.
I did not remain long at the Kursaal ; the music was good enough,
but it seemed rather tame after the cyclone of that Arkansaw expert.
324 A TEA MP ABROAD.
Besides my adventurous spirit had conceived a formidable enterprise —
nothing less than a trip from Interlaken, by the Gemmi and Visp, clear-
to Zermatt, on foot ! So it was necessary to plan the details, and get
ready for an early start. The courier (this was not the one I have
just been speaking of) thought that the porticr of the hotel would be
able to tell us how to find our way. And so it turned out. He showed
us the whole thing on a relief-map, and we could see our route, with all
its elevations and depressions, its villages and its rivers, as clearly as if
we were sailing over it in a balloon. A relief-map is a great thing.
Thepo?*tier also wrote down each day's journey and the nightly hotel on
a piece of paper, and made our course so plain that we should never
be able to get lost without high-priced outside help.
I put the courier in the care of a gentleman who was going to
Lausanne, and then we went to bed, after laying out the walking
costumes and putting them into condition for instant occupation in
the morning.
However, when we came down to breakfast at 8 a.m., it looked 1 ,
so much like rain that I hired a two-horse top-buggy for the first third
of the journey. For two or three hours we jogged along the level
road which skirts the beautiful lake of Thun, with a dim and dream-
like picture of watery expanses and spectral Alpine forms always before
us, veiled in a mellowing mist. Then a steady downpour set in, and
hid everything but the nearest objects. We kept the rain out of our
faces with umbrellas, and away from our bodies with the leather apron
of the buggy ; but the driver sat unsheltered, and placidly soaked the
weather in and seemed to like it. We had the road all to ourselves,
and I never had a pleasanter excursion.
The weather began to clear while we were driving up a valley
called the Kienthal, and presently a vast black cloud-bank in front of
us dissolved away and uncurtained the grand proportions and the soar-
ing loftinesses of the Blumis Alp. It was a sort of breath-taking
surprise ; for we had not supposed there was anything behind that low-
hung blanket of sable cloud but level valley. What we had been
mistaking for fleeting glimpses of sky away aloft there were really patches
of the Blumis's snowy crest caught through shredded rents in the drift-
ing pall of vapour.
We dined in the inn at Frutigen, and our driver ought to have
A TRAMP ABROAD.
325
dined there too, but he would not have had time to dine and get drunk
both, so he gave his mind to making a masterpiece of the latter, and
succeeded. A German gentleman and his two young lady daughters
had been taking their nooning at the inn, and when they left, just
ahead of us, it was p ] ain that their driver was as drunk as ours, and as
happy and good-natured too, which was saying a good deal. These
rascals overflowed with attentions and information for their guests.
SOCIABLE DRIVERS.
and with brotherly love for each other. They tied their reins, and took
off their coats and hats, so that they might be able to give unen-
cumbered attention to conversation and to the gestures necessary for
its illustration.
The road was smooth ; it led up and over and down a continual
succession of hills; but it was narrow, the horses were used to it,
and could not well get out of it anyhow; so why shouldn't the
drivers entertain themselves and us ? The noses of our horses pro-
326
A TRAMP ABROAD.
ject<
■•■m
sociably into the rear of the forward carriage, and as we
toiled up the long hills our
driver stood up and talked to
his friend, and his friend stood
up and talked back to him,
with his rear to the scenery.
When the top was reached,
and we went flying down the
other side, there was no change
in the programme. I carry
in my memory yet the picture
of that forward driver, on his
knees on his high seat, resting
his elbows on its back, and
beaming down on his pas-
sengers, with happy eye, and
flying hair, and jolly red face,
and offering his card to the
old German gentleman, while
he praised his hack and horses,
and both teams were whizzing
down a long hill with nobody
in a position to tell whether
we were bound to destruction
or an undeserved safety.
Toward sunset we entered
a beautiful green valley dotted
with chalets, a cosy little do-
main, hidden away from the
busy world in a cloistered
nook, among giant precipices
topped with snowy peaks that
seemed to float like islands
above the curling surf of the
sea of vapour that severed
ihem from the lower world.
Lown from vague and vapor-
A MOUNTAIN CASCADE.
TRAMP ABROAD.
32:
ous heights, little ruffled zigzag milky currents came crawling, and
found their way to the verge of one of those tremendous overhanging
walls, whence they plunged, a
shaft of silver, shivered to atoms
in mid-descent, and turned to
an airy puff of luminous dust.
Here and there, in grooved de-
pressions among the snowy deso-
lations of the upper altitudes, one glimpsed the
extremity of a glacier, with its seagreen and
honeycombed battlements of ice.
Up the valley, under a dizzy precipice,
nestled the village of Kandersteg, our halting-
place for the night. We were soon there, and
housed in the hotel. But the waning day had
such an inviting influence that we did not
remain housed many moments, but struck out
and followed a roaring torrent of ice- water up to its far source in a sort
of little grass- carpeted parlour, walled in all around by vast precipices
and overlooked by clustering summits of ice. This was the snuggest
little croquet-ground imaginable ; it was perfectly level, and not more
THE GASTERNTHAL.
128
A 1RAMP ABROAD.
ohan a mile long by half a mile wide. The walls around it were so
gigantic, and everything about it was on so mighty a scale, that it was
\\? fp --'"';- ...^ belittled, by contrast, to what I
-' »'^ wT"--"^ X \ -C? — have likened it to — a cosy and
__ """ Vr^/S^. • '.-:'• > _ carpeted parlour. It was so high
- v -. p -'- -"."-■.-,•,. "••••'-— above the Kandersteg valley that
there was nothing between it and
the snow-peaks. I had never
been in such intimate relations
with the high altitudes before;
the snow-peaks had always been
remote and unapproachable
grandeurs hitherto, but now we
were hob-a-nob — if one may use
.such a seemingly irreverent ex-
pression about creations so august
as these.
We could see the streams
which fed the torrent we had
followed issuing from under the
- $ greenish ramparts
of glaciers ; but
two or three of
these, instead of
flowing over the
precipices, sank
down into the rock
and sprang in big
jets out of holes in
the mid-face of the
walls.
The green nook
which I have been
describing is call-
ed the Gasternthal.
The glacier streams gather and flow through it in a broad and rushing
brook to a narrow cleft between lofty precipices; here the rushing
<-^^m^i
EXHILARATING SPORT.
A TRAMP ABB OAT). 329
orook becomes a mad torrent and goes booming and thundering down
towards Kandersteg, lashing and thrashing its way over and among
monster boulders, and hurling chance roots and logs about like straws.
There was no lack of cascades along this route. The path by the side
of the torrent was so narrow that one had to look sharp when he heard
a cow-bell, and hunt for a place that was wide enough to accommodate
a cow and a Christian side by side, and such places were not always
to be had at an instant's notice. The cows wear church-bells, and that
is a good idea in the cows, for where that torrent is you couldn't hear
A FALL.
an ordinary cow-bell any further than you could hear the ticking
of a watch.
I needed exercise, so I employed my agent in setting stranded logs
and dead trees adrift, and I sat on a boulder and watched them go
whirling and leaping head over heels down the boiling torrent. It
was a wonderfully exhilarating spectacle. When I had had exercise
•enough, I made the agent take some, by running a race with one of
those logs. I made a trifle by betting on the log.
After dinner we had a walk up and dowm the quiet Kandersteg
valley, in the soft gloaming, with the spectacle of the dying lights of
•day playing about the crests and pinnacles of the still and solemn
330 A TRAMP ABROAD.
upper realms for contrast, and text for talk. There were no sounds*
but the dull complaining of the torrent and the occasional tinkling of
a distant bell. The spirit of the place was a sense of deep, pervad-
ing peace ; one might dream his life tranquilly away there, and not
miss it or mind it when it was gone.
The summer departed with the sun, and winter came with the
stars. It grew to be a bitter night in that little hotel, backed up
against a precipice that had no visible top to it ; but we kept
warm, and woke in time in the morning to find that everybody else
had left for the Gemmi three hours before — so our little plan of helping
that German family (principally the old man) over the Pass was a
blocked generosity.
A TRAMP ABROAD. 331
CHAPTER XXXIV.
We hired the only guide left, to lead us on our way. He was over
seventy, but he could have given me nine-tenths of his strength and
still had all his age entitled him to. He shouldered our satchels, over-
coats, and alpenstocks, and we set out up the steep path. It was hot
work. The old man soon begged us to hand over our coats and waist-
coats to him to carry, too, and we did it; one could not refuse so little
a thing to a poor old man like that ; he should have had them if he
had been a hundred and fifty.
When we began that ascent, we could see a microscopic chalet
perched away up against heaven on what seemed to be the highest
mountain near us. It was on our right, across the narrow head of the
valley. But when we got up abreast it, on its own level, mountains
were towering high above on every hand, and we saw that its altitude
was just about that of the little Gasternthal which we had visited the
evening before. Still, it seemed a long way up in the air, in that waste
and lonely wilderness of rocks. It bad an unfenced grass-plot in front
of it which seemed about as big as a billiard-table, and this grass-
plot slanted so sharply downwards, and was so brief, and ended so
exceedingly soon at the verge of the absolute precipice, that it was a
shuddery thing to think of a person's venturing to trust his foot on
an incline so situated at all. Suppose a man stepped on an orange-peel
in that yard : there would be nothing for him to seize ; nothing could
keep him from rolling ; five revolutions would bring him to the edge,
and over he would go. What a frightful distance he would fall ! — for
there are very few birds that fly as high as his starting-point. He
would strike and bounce, two or three times on his way down, but this
would be no advantage to him. I would as soon take an airing on the
slant of a rainbow as in such a front yard. I would rather, in fact, for
332
A TRAMP ABROAD.
the distance down would be about the same, and it is pleasanter to slide
than to bounce. I could not see how the peasants got up to that
chalet — the region seemed too steep for anything but a balloon.
As we strolled
on, climbing up
higher and higher,
we were continu-
ally bringing neigh-
bouring peaks into
view, and lofty pro-
minences which
had been hidden
behind lower peaks
before ; so, by-and-
by, while standing
before a group of
these giants, we
looked around for
the chalet again :
there it was, away
down below us, ap-
parently on an in-
conspicuous ridge
in the valley ! It
was as far below us,
now, as it had been above us when we were beginning the ascent.
After a while the path led us along a railed precipice, and we looked
over — far beneath us was the snug parlour again, the little Gasternthal,
with its water-jets spouting from the face of its rock walls. We could
have dropped a stone into it. We had been rinding the top of the
world all along — and always finding a still higher top stealing into view
in a disappointing way just ahead ; when we looked down into the
Gasternthal we felt pretty sure that we had reached the genuine top
at last, but it was not so ; there were much higher altitudes to be
scaled yet. We were still in the pleasant shade of forest trees, we were
still in a region which was cushioned with beautiful mosses and aglow
with the many-tinted lustre of innumerable wild-flowers.
WHAT MIGHT BE.
A TRAMP ABROAD.
333
We found, indeed, more interest in the wild-flowers than in any-
thing else. We gathered a specimen or two of every kind which we
were unacquainted
with; so we had
sumptuous bouquets.
But one of the chief
interests lay in chas-
ing the seasons of the
year up the mountain
and determining them
by the presence of
flowers and berries
which we were ac-
quainted with. For
instance, it was the
end of August at the
level of the sea; in
the Kandersteg val-
ley, at the base of the
Pass, we found
flowers which would
not be due at the sea
level for two or three
weeks ; higher up we
entered October, and
gathered fringed gen-
tians. I made no
AX ALPINE BOUQUET.
notes, and have forgotten the details, but the construction of the floral
calendar was very entertaining while it lasted.
In the high regions we found rich store of the splendid red flower
called the Alpine rose, but we did not find any example of the ugly
Swiss favourite called Edelweiss. Its name seems to indicate that it is
a noble flower and that it is white. It may be noble enough, but it is
not attractive, and it is not white. The fuzzy blossom is the colour
of bad cigar ashes, and appears to be made of a cheap quality of grey
plush. It has a noble and distant way of confining itself to the high
altitudes, but that is probably on account of its looks ; it apparently
334 A TRAMP ABROAD.
has no monopoly of those upper altitudes, however, for they are some-
times intruded upon by some of the loveliest of the valley families
of wild-flowers. Everybody in the Alps wears a sprig of Edelweiss in
his hat. It is the native's pet, and also the tourist's.
All the morning, as we loafed along, having a good time, other
pedestrians went staving by us with vigorous strides, and with the
intent and determined look of men who were walking for a wager.
These wore loose knee-breeches, long yarn stockings, and hobnailed
high-laced walking-shoes. They were gentlemen who would go home
to England or Germany and tell how many miles they had beaten the
guide-book every day. But I doubted if they ever had much real
fun. outside of the mere magnificent exhilaration of the tramp through
the green valleys and the breezy heights ; for they were almost always
alone, and even the finest scenery loses incalculably when there is no one
to enjoy it with.
All the morning an endless double procession of mule-mounted
tourists filed past us along the narrow path — the one procession going,
the other coming. We had taken a good deal of trouble to teach our-
selves the kindly German custom of saluting all strangers with doffed
hat, and we resolutely clung to it that morning, although it kept us
bare-headed most of the time and was not always responded to. Still
we found an interest in the thing, because we naturally liked to know
who were English and Americans among the passers-by. All Conti-
nental natives responded, of course ; so did some of the English and
Americans, but as a general thing these two races gave no sign. When-
ever a man or a woman showed us cold neglect, we spoke up con-
fidently in our own tongue and asked for such information as we happened
to need, and we always got a reply in the same language. The English
and American folk are not less kindly than other races, they are only
more reserved, and that comes of habit and education. In one dreary,
rocky waste, away above the line of vegetation, we met a procession
of twenty-five mounted young men, all from America. We got answer-
ing bows enough from these, of course, for they were of an age to
learn to do in Rome as Rome does, without much effort.
At one extremity of this patch of desolation, overhung by bare
and forbidding crags which husbanded drifts of everlasting snow in
their shaded cavities, was a small stretch of thin and discouraged
A TRAMP ABROAD.
335
grass, and a man and a family of pigs were actually living here in some
shanties. Consequently this place could be really reckoned as ' property ; '
it had a money value, and was doubtless taxed. I think it must have
'HE END OF THE WORLD.
marked the
limit of real
estate in this
world. It
would be
hard to set
a money value upon any piece of earth that lies between that spot
and the empty realm of space. That man may claim the distinction
of owning the end of the world, for if there is any definite end to the
world he has certainly found it.
From here forward we moved through a storm-swept and smileless
desolation. All about us rose gigantic masses, crags, and ramparts ot
bare and dreary rock, with not a vestige or semblance of plant or
tree or flower anywhere, or glimpse of any creature that had life. The
frost and the tempests of unnumbered ages had battered and hacked at
these cliffs, with a deathless energy, destroying them piecemeal ; so all
the region about their bases was a tumbled chaos of great fragments
which had been split off and hurled to the ground. Soiled and aged
banks of snow lay close about our path. The ghastly desolation oi
the place was as tremendously complete as if Dore had furnished the
336 A TRAMP ABROAD.
working plans for it. But every now and then,' through the stern gate-
ways around us, we caught a view of some neighbouring majestic
dome, sheathed with glittering ice, and displaying its white purity at
an elevation compared to which ours was grovelling and plebeian, and
this spectacle always chained one's interest and admiration at once, and
made him forget there was anything ugly in the world.
I have just said that there was nothing but death and desolation
in these hideous places, but I forgot. In the most forlorn and arid and
dismal one of all, where the racked and splintered debris was thickest,
where the ancient patches of snow lay against the very path, where the
winds blew bitterest and the general aspect was mournfullest and
dreariest, and furthest from any sug-
gestion of cheer or hope, I found a
solitary wee forget-me-not flourishing
away, not a droop about it anywhere,
but holding its bright blue star up
with the prettiest and gallantest air
in the world, the only happy spirit,
the only smiling thing, in all that grisly
desert. She seemed to say, ' Cheer
up ! — as long as we are here, let us
the forget-me-not. make the best of it.' I judged she had
earned a right to a more hospitable
place ; so I plucked her up and sent her to America to a friend who
would respect her for the fight she had made, all by her small self,
to make a whole vast despondent Alpine desolation stop breaking its
heart over the unalterable, and hold up its head and look at the bright
side of things for once.
We stopped for a nooning at a strongly built little inn called the
Schwarenbach. It sits in a lonely spot among the peaks, where it is
swept by the trailing fringes of the cloud-rack, and is rained on, snowed
on, and pelted and persecuted by the storms nearly every day of its
life. It was the only habitation in the whole Gemmi Pass.
Close at hand, now, was a chance for a blood-curdling Alpine adven-
ture. Close at hand was the snowy mass of the Great Altels cooling
its top-knot in the sky and daring us to an ascent. I was fired with the
idea, and immediately made up my mind to procure the necessary
A 1 RAMP ABROAD. 337
guides, ropes, etc., and undertake it. I instructed Harris to go to the
landlord of trie inn and set him about our preparations. Meantime I
went diligently to work to read up and find out what this much-
talked-of mountain- climbing was like, and how one should go about
it — for in these matters I was ignorant. I opened Mr. HinchlifFs
'Summer Months among the Alps' (published 1857), and selected
his account of his ascent of Monte Rosa. It began —
* It is very difficult to free the mind from excitement on the evening
before a grand expedition '
I saw that I was too calm ; so I walked the room a while and worked
myself into a high excitement; but the book's next remark — that
the adventurer must get up at two in the morning — came as near as
anything to flatting it all out again. However, I reinforced it, and
read on, about how Mr. Hinchliff dressed by candle-light and was
' soon down among the guides, who were bustling about in the passage,
packing provisions, and making every preparation for the start ; ' and
how he glanced out into the cold clear night and saw that —
' The whole sky was blazing with stars, larger and brighter than
they appear through the dense atmosphere breathed by inhabitants of
the lower pares of the earth. They seemed actually suspended from
the dark vault of heaven, and their gentle light shed a fairy -like gleam
over the snow-fields around the foot of the Matterhorn, which raised
its stupendous pinnacle on high, penetrating to the heart of the Great
Bear, and crowning itself with a diadem of his magnificent stars. Not
a sound disturbed the deep tranquillity of the night, except the distant
roar of streams which rush from the high plateau of the St. Theodule
glacier, and fall headlong over precipitous rocks till they lose them-
selves in the mazes of the Gorner glacier.'
He took his hot toast and coffee, and then about half-past three
his caravan of ten men filed away from the Riffel Hotel, and began
the steep climb. At half- past five he happened to turn around, and
' beheld the glorious spectacle of the Matterhorn, just touched by the
rosy-fingered morning, and looking like a huge pyramid of fire rising
out of the barren ocean of ice and rock around it.' Then the Breithorn
and the Dent Blanche caught the radiant glow ; but ' the intervening
mass of Monte Rosa made it necessary for us to climb many hours
before we could hope to see the sun himself, yet the whole air soon
grew warmer after the splendid birth of day.'
338
A TRAMP ABROAD.
„e gazed at ft. lofty crown of Monte Kosa and £ wastes^now
steep approaches,
and the chief guide
delivered the
opinion that no
man could conquer
their awful heights
and put his foot
upon that summit.
But the adventurers
moved steadily on,
nevertheless.
They toiled up,
and up, and still up;
they passed the
Grand Plateau ;
then toiled up a
steep shculder of
the mountain,
clinging like flies to
its rugged face ;
and now they were
confronted by a
tremendous wall
from which great
blocks of ice and
snow were evi-
dently in the habit
of falling. They
turned aside to skirt
this wall, and gradu-
ally ascended until
their way was
barred by a < maze
of gigantic snow
climb of
A SF,.bDLE OF ICE.
erevnsses'-so they turned aside again, and ' began a Ion;
(sufficient steepness to make a zigzag course necessary.
A TEA MP ABROAD. 3*J9
Fatigue compelled them to halt frequently for a moment or two.
At one of these halts somebody called out, ' Look at Mont Blanc ! '
•and 4 we were at once made aware of the very, great height we had
attained by actually seeing the monarch of the Alps and his attendant
satellites right over the top of the Breithorn, itself at least 14,000 feet
high ! '
These people moved in single file, and were all tied to a strong
rope, at regular distances apart, so that if one of them slipped on
those giddy heights the others could brace themselves on their alpen-
stocks and save him from darting into the valley, thousands of feet
below. By-and-by they came to an ice-coated ridge which was tilted
up at a sharp angle and had a precipice on one side of it. They had
to climb this, so the guide in the lead cut steps in the ice with his
hatchet, and as fast as he took his toes out of one of these slight holes,
the toes of the man behind him occupied it.
'Slowly- and steadily we kept on our way over this dangerous part
of the ascent, and I daresay it was fortunate for some of us that atten-
tion was distracted from the head by the paramount necessity of look-
ing after the feet; for, while on the left the incline of ice was so steep
that it would be impossible for any man to save himself in case of a slip,
unless the others could hold him up, on the right we might drop a
pebble from the hand over precipices of unknown extent down upon the
tremendous glacier below.
i Great caution, therefore, was absolutely necessary, and in this
exposed situation we were attacked by all the fury of that grand enemy
of aspirants to Monte Rosa — a severe and bitterly cold wind from the
north. The fine powdery snow was driven past us in clouds, penetrating
the interstices of our clothes, and the pieces of ice which new from the
blows of Peter's axe were whisked into the air, and then dashed over
the precipice. We had quite enough to do to prevent ourselves from
being served in the same ruthless fashion, and now and then, in the
more violent gusts of wind, were glad to stick our alpenstocks into the
:ice and hold on hard.'
Having surmounted this perilous steep, they sat down and took a
brief rest with their backs against a sheltering rock and their heels
dangling over a bottomless abyss ; then they climbed to the base of
-another ridge, a more difficult and dangerous one still: —
z2
340 A TRAMP ABROAD.
1 The whole of the ridge was exceedingly narrow, and the fall od
each side desperately steep, but the ice in some of these intervals
between the masses of rock assumed the form of a mere sharp edge r
almost like a knife ; these places, though not more than three or four
short paces in length, looked uncommonly awkward ; but, like the
sword leading true believers to the gates of Paradise, they must needs
be passed before we could attain to the summit of our ambition. These
were in one or two places so narrow, that in stepping over them with
toes well turned out for greater security, one end of the foot projected
over the awful precipice on the right, while the other was on the beginning
of the icy slope on the left, which was scarcely less steep than the rocks.
On these occasions Peter would take my hand, and each of us stretching
as far as we could, he was thus enabled to get a firm footing two paces
or rather more from me, whence a spring would probably bring him to-
the rock on the other side ; then, turning round, he called to me to
come, and taking a couple of steps carefully, I was met at the third by
his outstretched hand ready to clasp mine, and in a moment stood
by his side. The others followed in much the same fashion. Once
my right foot slipped on the side towards the precipice, but I threw
out my left arm in a moment so that it caught the icy edge under
my armpit as I fell, and supported me considerably; at the same instant
I cast my eyes down the side on which I had slipped, and contrived to
plant my right foot on a piece ot rock as large as a cricket-ball r
which chanced to protrude through the ice, on the very edge of the
precipice. Being thus anchored fore and aft, as it were, I believe I
could easily have recovered myself, even if I had been alone, though it
must be confessed the situation would have been an awful one ; as it
vas, however, a jerk from Peter settled the matter very soon, and I
was on my legs all right in an instant. The rope is an immense help
in places of this kind.'
Now they arrived at the base of a great knob or dome veneered
with ice and powdered with snow — the utmost summit, the last bit of
solidity between them and the hollow vault of heaven. Thay set to
work with their hatchets, and were soon creeping, insect-like, up its-
surface, with their heels projecting over the thinnest kind of nothing-
ness, thickened up a little with a few wandering shreds and films of
cloud moving in lazy procession far below. Presently one man's toe-
A TRAMP ABROAD.
341
hold broke and he fell ! There he
dangled in mid-air at the end of the
rope, like a spider, till his friends
above hauled him into place again.
A little bit later the party stood
upon the wee pedestal of the very
summit, in a driving wind, and looked
out upon the vast green expanses of
Italy and a shoreless ocean of billowy
Alps.
When I had read thus far, Harris
burst into the room in a noble excite-
ment and said the ropes and the guides
were secured, and asked if I was
ready. I said I believed I wouldn't
ascend the Altels this time. I said
Alp-climbing was a different thing
from what I had supposed it was, and
CUTTING STEPS.
THE GUIDE.
342
A TRAMP ABROAD.
so I judged we -had better study its points a little more before we wenf-
definitely into it. But I told him to retain the guides and order them
to follow us to Zermatt, because I meant to use them there. I said I
could feel the spirit of adventure beginning to stir in me, and was sure
that the fell fascination of Alp-climbing would soon be upon me. I
said he could make up his mind to it that we would do a deed before
we were a week older which would make the hair of the timid curl with
fright.
This made Harris happy, and filled him with ambitious anticipa-
tions. He went at once to tell the guides to follow us to Zermatt and
bring all their paraphernalia with them.
TRAMP ABROAD.
CHAPTER XXXV.
A great and priceless thing is a new interest ! How it takes possession
of a man ! how it clings to him ! how it rides him ! I strode onward
from the Schwarenbach hostelry a changed man, a reorganised person-
ality. I walked in a new world, I saw with new eyes. I had been
looking aloft at the giant snow-peaks only as things to be worshipped
for their grandeur and magnitude, and their unspeakable grace of
form ; I looked up at them now, as also things to be conquered and
climbed. My sense of their grandeur and their noble beauty was
neither lost nor impaired ; I had gained a new interest in the mountains
without losing the old ones. I followed the steep lines up, inch by
inch, with my eye, and noted the possibility or impossibility of follow-
ing them with my feet. When I saw a shining helmet of ice projecting
above the clouds, I tried to imagine I saw files of black specks toiling
up it roped together with a gossamer thread.
We skirted the lonely little lake called the Daubensee, and presently
passed close by a glacier on the right — a thing like a great river frozen
solid in its flow and broken square off like a wall at its mouth. I had
never been so near a glacier before.
Here we came upon a new board shanty, and found some men
engaged in building a stone house ; so the Schwarenbach was soon <
to have a rival. We bought a bottle or so of beer here ; at any rate i
they called it beer, but I knew by the price that it was dissolved
jewellery, and I perceived by the taste that dissolved jewellery is not
good stuff to drink.
We were surrounded by a hideous desolation. We stepped forward
to a sort of jumping-off place, and were confronted by a startling
contrast; we seemed to look down into fairyland. Two or three
344
A TRAMP ABROAD.
thousand feet below us was a bright green level, with a pretty town in
its midst, and a silvery stream winding among the meadows; the
charming spot was walled in on all sides by gigantic precipices
clothed with pines ; and over the pines, out of the softened distances,
VIEW FEOM THE CLTFF.
rose the snowy domes and peaks of the Monte Eosa region. How
exquisitely green and beautiful that little valley down there was !
The distance was not great enough to obliterate details, it only made
them little, and mellow, and dainty, like landscapes and towns seen
through the wrong end of a spy-glass.
Eight under us a narrow ledge rose up out of the valley, with a
green, slanting, bench-shaped top, and grouped about upon this
green-baize bench were a lot of black and white sheep which looked
merely like over-sized worms. The bench seemed lifted well up into
our neighbourhood, but that was a deception — it was a long way down
to it.
We began our descent, now, by the most remarkable road I have
mk
i
»
■i I
HI
B«:
if' ■'Ii
■ ■
:
*.!E[!,:;,:Kj
A TRAMP ABROAD. S-47
ever seen. It wound in corkscrew curves down the face of the colossal
precipice — a narrow way, with always the solid rock wall at one elbow,,
and perpendicular nothingness at the other. We met an everlasting
procession of guides, porters, mules, litters, and tourists climbing up
this steep and muddy path, and there was no room to spare when you
had to pass a tolerably fat mule. I always took the inside, when I
heard or saw the mule coming, and flattened myself against the wall.
I preferred the inside, of course, but I should have had to take it any-
how, because the mule prefers the outside. A mule's preference — on
a precipice — is a thing to be respected. Well, his choice is always the-
outside. His life is mostly devoted to carrying bulky panniers and
packages which rest against his body — therefore he is habituated to
taking the outside edge of mountain paths, to keep his bundles from
rubbing against rocks or banks on the other. When he goes into the
passenger business he absurdly clings to his old habit, and keeps on©
leg of his passenger always dangling over the great deeps of the lower
world, while that passenger's heart is in the highlands, so to speak.
More than once I saw a mule's hind foot cave over the outer edge
and send earth and rubbish into the bottomless abyss ; and I noticed
that upon these occasions the rider, whether male or female, looked
tolerably unwell.
There was one place where an 18-inch breadth of light masonry
had been added to the verge of the path, and as there was a very sharp
turn here, a panel of fencing had been set up there at some ancient
time, as a protection. This panel was old and grey and feeble, and the
light masonry had been loosened by recent rains. A young American
girl came along on a mule, and in making the turn the mule's hind
foot caved all the loose masonry and one of the fence posts overboard ;
the mule gave a violent lurch inboard to save himself, and succeeded in
the effort, but that girl turned as white as the snows of Mont Blanc
for a moment.
The path here was simply a groove cut into the face of the
precipice; there was a four-foot breadth of solid rock under the-
traveller, and a four- foot breadth of solid rock just above his head,
like the roof of a narrow porch; he could look out from this gallery
and see a sheer summitless and bottomless wall of rock before him,,
across a gorge or crack a biscuit'3 toss in width — but he could not
348
A TRAMP ABROAD.
see the bottom of his own precipice unless he lay down and projected
his nose over the edge. I did not do this, because I did not wish
to soil my
clothes.
Every few
hundred
yards, at
par ticularly
bad places,
one came
across
panel or so
of plank
fen c i n g ;
but they
were always
old and
weak, and
they gene-
rally leaned
out over the chasm and did not make any rash
promises to hold up people who might need
support. There was one of these panels which
had only its upper board left ; a pedestrianis-
ing English youth came tearing down the path,
was seized with an impulse to look over the
precipice, and without an instant's thought he
threw his weight upon that crazy board. It bent outward a foot ! I
never made a gasp before that came so near suffocating me. The
English youth's face simply showed a lively surprise, but nothing
more. He went swinging along valleyAvards again, as if he did not
know he had just swindled a coroner by the closest kind of a shave.
The Alpine litter is sometimes like a cushioned box made fast
between the middles of two long poles, and sometimes it is a chair
with a back to it and a support for the feet. It is carried by relays of
strong porters. The motion is easier than that of any other convey-
ance. We met a few men and a great many ladies in litters ; it
ALMOST A TRAGEDY.
A TliAMP ABROAD.
Ud-
seemed to me that most of the ladies looked pale and nauseated;
their general aspect gave me the idea that they were patiently enduring;
k
THE ALPINE LITTER.
a horrible suffering. As a rule, they looked at their laps, and left the
scenery to take care of itself.
But the most frightened creature I saw was a led horse that over-
took us. Poor fellow ! he had been born and reared in the grassy
levels of the Kandersteg valley, and had never seen anything like this
hideous place before. Every few steps he would stop short, glance
wildly out from the dizzy height, and then spread his red nostrils
wide and pant as violently as if he had been running a race ; and
all the while he quaked from head to heel as with a palsy. He w r as a
handsome fellow, and he made a fine statuesque picture of terror, but
it was pitiful to see him suffer so.
This dreadful path has had its tragedy. Baedeker, with his
customary over-terseness, begins and ends the tale thus : ' The descent
on horseback should be avoided. In 15GJ a Comtesse d'Herlincourt
fell from her saddle over the precipice and was killed on the spot.'
"We looked over the precipice there, and saw the monument which
commemorates the event. It stands in the bottom of the gorge, in a
place which has been hollowed out of the rock to protect it from the
torrent and the storms. Our old guide never spoke but when spoken
to, and then limited himself to a syllable or two ; but when we asked
him about this tragedy he showed a strong interest in the matter.
350
A TRAMP ABROAD.
He said the Countess was very pretty, and very young — hardly out of
her girlhood, in fact. She was newly married, and was on her bridal
tour. The young husband was riding a little in advance ; one guide
was leading the hus-
band's horse, another
was leading the bride's.
The old man con-
tinued —
' The guide that was
leading the husband's
horse happened to
glance back, and there
was that poor young
thing sitting up staring
out over the precipice ;
and her face began to
bend downward a little,
and she put up her two
hands slowly and met it
— so — and put them flat
against her eyes — so —
and then she sank out
of the saddle, with a
sharp shriek, and one
caught only the flash of
a dress, and it was all
over.'
Then after a pause —
' Ah, yes, that guide
He saw them all, just as I
A STRANGE SITUATION.
-y^,
he saw them all.
My God, that was me. I was that
saw these thin
have told you.'
After another pause —
' Ah, yes, he saw them all
guide ! '
This had been the one event of the old man's life
be sure he had forgotten no detail connected with it.
to all he had to say about what was done and what happened and
so one may
^Ye listened
DEATH OF A COUNTESS.
A TRAMP ABROAD. 353
what was said after the sorrowful occurrence, and a painful story it
was.
When we had wound down toward the valley until we were about
on the last spiral of the corkscrew, Harris's hat blew over the last
remaining bit of precipice — a small cliff a hundred or a hundred and
fifty feet high — and sailed down towards a steep slant composed of
rough chips and fragments which the weather had flaked away from the
precipices. We went leisurely down there, expecting to find it without
any trouble, but we had made a mistake as to that. We hunted during
a couple of hours — not because the old straw hat was valuable, but
out of curiosity to find out how such a thing could manage to conceal
itself in open ground where there was nothing for it to hide behind.
When one is reading in bed, and lays his paper-knife down, he cannot
find it again if it is smaller than a sabre ; that hat was as stubborn as
any paper-knife could have been, and we finally had to give it up ;
but we found a fragment that had once belonged to an opera-glass,
and by digging around and turning over the rocks we gradually
collected all the lenses and the cylinders and the various odds and ends
that go to make up a complete opera-glass. We afterwards had the
thing reconstructed, and the owner can have his adventurous long-
iost property by submitting proofs and paying costs of rehabilitation.
We had hopes of finding the owner there, distributed around amongst
the rocks, for it would have made an elegant paragraph ; but we were
disappointed. Still, we were far from being disheartened, for there was
a considerable area which we had not thoroughly searched ; we were
satisfied he was there, somewhere, so we resolved to wait over a day
at Leuk and come back and get him. Then we sat down to polish off
the perspiration and arrange about what we would do with him
when we got him. Harris was for contributing him to the British
Museum ; but I was for mailing him to his widow. That is the
difference between Harris and me : Harris is all for display, I am all
for the simple right, even though I lose money by it. Harris argued in
favour of his proposition and against mine; I argued in favour of
mine and against his. The discussion warmed into a dispute; the
dispute warmed into a quarrel. I finally said, very decidedly —
' My mind is made up. He goes to the widow. 5
Harris answered sharply —
A A
354 A TRAMP ABROAD.
1 And my mind is made up. He goes to the Museum.
I said, calmly —
' The Museum may whistle when it gets him.'
Harris retorted —
' The widow may save herself the trouble of whistling, for I will see
that she never gets him.'
After some angry bandying of epithets, I said —
1 It seems to me that you are taking on a good many airs aboiit
these remains. I don't quite see what you've got to say about them ? '
' / ? I've got all to say about them. They'd never have been
thought of if I hadn't found their opera-glass. The corpse belongs to
me, and I'll do as I please with him.'
I was leader of the Expedition, and all discoveries achieved by it
naturally belonged to me. I was entitled to these remains, and could
have enforced my right ; but rather than have bad blood about the
matter, I said we would toss up for them. I threw heads and won.
but it was a barren victory, for although we spent all the next day
searching, we never found a bone. I cannot imagine what could ever
have become of that fellow.
The town in the valley is called Leuk or Leukerbad. We pointed
our course toward it, down a verdant slope which was adorned with
fringed gentians and other flowers, and presently entered the narrow
alleys of the outskirts and waded toward the middle of the town
through liquid ' fertiliser.' They ought to either pave that village or
organise a ferry.
Harris's body was simply a chamois-pasture; his person was
populous with the little hungry pests ; his skin, when he stripped, was
splotched like a scarlet fever patient's; so, when we were about to
enter one of the Leukerbad inns, and he noticed its sign, i Chamois
Hotel,' he refused to stop there. He said the chamois was plentiful
enough, without hunting up hotels where they made a specialty of
it. I was indifferent, for the chamois is a creature that will neither
bite me nor abide with me : but to calm Harris, we went to the
Hotel des Alpes.
At the table d'hote we had this for an incident. A very grave
man — in fact his gravity amounted to solemnity, and almost to
austerity — sat opposite us, and he was ' tight,' but doing his best
A TRAMP ABROAD.
355
to appear sober. He took up a corked bottle of wine, tilted it over
his glass a while, then set it out of the way with a contented look, and
went on with his dinner.
Presently he put his glass to his mouth, and of course found it
empty. He looked puzzled and v -
glanced furtively and suspiciously
out of the corner of his eye at a
benignant and unconscious old
lady who sat at his right. Shook
his head, as much as to say, ' No,
she couldn't have done it.' He
tilted the corked bottle over his
glass again, meantime searching
around with his watery eye to see
if anybody was watching him. He
ate a few mouthfuls, raised his
glass to his lips, and of course it
was still empty. He bent an
injured and accusing side-gaze
upon that unconscious old lady,
which was a study to see. She
went on eating and gave.no sign.
He took up his glass and his bottle,
with a wise private nod of his head, and set them gravely on the left-
hand side of his plate — poured himself another imaginary drink —
went to work with his knife and fork once more — presently lifted his
glass with good confidence, and found it empty, as usual.
This was almost a petrifying surprise. He straightened himself up
in his chair and deliberately and sorrowfully inspected the busy old
ladies at his elbows, first one and then the other. At last he softly
pushed his plate away, set his glass directly in front of him, held on
to it with his left hand, and proceeded to pour with his right. This
time he observed that nothing came. He turned the bottle clear
upside down; still nothing issued from it; a plaintive look came
into his face, and he said, as if to himself, c He I They've got it all ! '
Then he set the bottle down, resignedly, and took the rest of his dinner
dry.
a a 2
' they've got it all.'
356
.4 TRAMP ABROAD.
It was at that table d'hote, too, that I had under inspection the
largest lady I have ever seen in private life. She was over seven feet
high, and magnificently proportioned. What had first called my
attention to her was my stepping on an outlying flange of her foot, and
hearing, from up toward the ceiling, a deep ' Pardon, m'sieu, but you
encroach ! '
That was when we were coming through the hall, and the place
was dim, and I could see
her only vaguely. The
thing which called my
attention to her the second
time was, that at a table
beyond ours were two very
pretty girls, and this great
lady came in and sat down
between them and me and
blotted out the view. She
had a handsome face, and
she was very finely formed
— perfectly formed, I should
say. But she made every-
body around her look trivial
and commonplace. Ladies
near her looked like
children, and the men about
her looked mean. They
looked like failures; and
they looked as if they felt
so, too. She sat with her
back to us. I never saw such a back in my life. I would have
so liked to see the moon rise over it. The whole congregation waited,
under one pretext or another, till she finished her dinner and went out ;
they wanted to see her at her full altitude, and they found it worth
tarrying for. She filled one's idea of what an empress ought to be,
when she rose up in her unapproachable grandeur and moved superbly
out of that place.
We were not at Leuk in time to see her at her heaviest weight.
MODEL FOK AN EMPKESS,
A TRAMP ABROAD.
35J*
She had suffered from corpulence, and had come there to get rid of
her extra flesh in the baths. Five weeks of soaking — five uninterrupted
hours of it every day — had accomplished her purpose and reduced her
to the right proportions.
Those baths remove fat, and also skin-diseases. The patients
remain in the great tanks hours at a time. A dozen gentlemen and
ladies occupy a tank together, and amuse themselves with rompings
and various games. They have floating desks and tables, and they
BATH HOUSES AT LEUK.
read or lunch or play chess in water that is breast-deep. The
tourist can step in and view this novel spectacle if he chooses. There's
a poor-box, and he will have to contribute. There are several of
these big' bathing-houses, and you can always tell when you are
near one of them by the romping noises and shouts of laughter that
proceed from it. The water is running water, and changes all the
time, else a patient with a ringworm might take the bath with only a
360 A TRAMP ABROAD.
partial success, since while he was ridding himself of his ringworm lie
might catch the itch.
The next morning we wandered back up the green valley, leisurely,
with the curving walls of those bare and stupendous precipices rising
into the clouds before us. I had never seen a clean, bare precipice
stretching up 5,000 feet above me before, and I never shall expect
to see another one. They exist, perhaps, but not in places where one
can easily get close to them. This pile of stone is peculiar. From its
base to the soaring tops of its mighty towers, all its lines and all its
details vaguely suggest human architecture. There are rudimentary
bow windows, cornices, chimneys, demarcations of stories, &c. One
could sit and stare up there and study the features and exquisite graces
of this grand structure, bit by bit, and day after day, and never weary
his interest. The termination, toward the town, observed in profile, is
the perfection of shape. It comes down out of the clouds in a succession
of rounded, colossal, terrace-like projections — a stairway for the gods :
at its head spring several lofty storm-scarred towers, one above
another, with faint films of vapour curling always about them like
spectral banners. If there were a king whose realms included the
whole world, here would be the palace meet and proper for such a
monarch. He would only need to hollow it out and put in the electric
light. He could give audience to a nation at a time under its roof.
Our search for those remains having failed, we inspected with a glass
the dim and distant track of an old-time avalanche that once swept
down from some pine-grown summits behind the town and swept
away the houses and buried the people ; then we struck down the
road that leads toward the Rhone, to see the famous Ladders. These
perilous things are built against the perpendicular face of a cliff two
or three hundred feet high. The peasants, of both sexes, were
climbing up and down them, with heavy loads on their backs. 1
ordered Harris to make the ascent, so I could put the thrill and horror
of it in my book, and he accomplished the feat successfully, through a
sub-agent, for three francs, which I paid. It makes me shudder yet
when I think of what I felt when I was clinging there between heaven
and earth in the person of that proxy. At times the world swam
around me, and I could hardly keep from letting go, so dizzying was
the appalling danger. Many a person would have given up and
A TRAMP ABROAD. 361
descended, but I stuck to my task, and would not yield until I had
accomplished it. I felt a just pride in my exploit, but I would not
have repeated it for tne wealth of the world. I shall break my neck
yet with some such foolhardy performance, for warnings never seem
to have any lasting effect upon me. When the people of the hotel
found that I had been climbing those crazy Ladders, it made me an
object of considerable distinction.
Next morning, early, we drove to the Rhone valley and took the
train for Visp. There we shouldered our knapsacks and things, and
set out on foot, in a tremendous rain, up the winding gorge, towards
Zermatt. Hour after hour we slopped along, by the roaring torrent,
and under noble Lesser Alps which were clothed in rich velvety
green all the way up, and had little atomy Swiss homes perched
upon grassy benches along their mist-dimmed heights.
The rain continued to pour and torrent to boom, and we con-
tinued to enjoy both. At the one spot where this torrent tossed its
white mane highest, and thundered loudest, and lashed the big boulders-
fiercest, the canton had done itself the honour to build the flimsiest
wooden bridge that exists in the world. While we were walking
over it, along with a party of horsemen, I noticed that even the larger
rain-drops made it shake. I called Harris's attention to it, and he noticed
it too. It seemed to me that if I owned an elephant that was a keep-
sake, and I thought a good deal of him, I would think twice before 1
would ride him over that bridge.
We climbed up to the village of St. Nicholas, about half-past four
in the afternoon, waded ankle-deep through the fertiliser-juice, and
stopped at a new and nice hotel close by the little church. We
stripped and went to bed, and sent our clothes down to be baked.
All the horde of soaked tourists did the same. That chaos of clothing
got mixed in the kitchen, and there were consequences. I did not
get back the same drawers I sent down, when our things came up at
6.15; I got a pair on a new plan. They were merely a pair of
white ruffle-cuffed absurdities, hitched together at the top with a
narrow band, and they did not come quite down to my knees. They
were pretty enough, but they made me feel like two people, and discon-
nected at that. The man must have been an idiot that got himself uj<
like that, to rough it in the Swiss mountains. The shirt thej:
G2
A TRAMP ABROAD.
brought me was shorter than the drawers, and hadn't any sleeves to it
— at least it hadn't anything more than what Mr. Darwin would call
1 rudimentary ' sleeves ; these had ' edging ' around them, but the
bosom was ridiculously plain. The knit silk under-shirt they brought
me was on a new plan, and was really a sensible thing; it opened
behind, and had pockets in it to put your shoulder-blades in ; but they
did not seem to fit mine, and so I found it a sort of uncomfortable
garment. They gave my bobtail coat to somebody else, and sent me
RATHEIt MIaKjj Ui\
an ulster suitable lor a giraffe. I had to tie my collar on, because there
was no button behind on that foolish little shirt which I described a
while ago.
When I was dressed lor dinner at 6.30, I was too loose in some
places and too tight in others, and altogether I felt slovenly and ill—
.conditioned. However, the people at the table d'hote were no better
•off than I was ; they had everybody's clothes but their own on. A
long stranger recognised his ulster as soon as he saw the tail of it
following me in, but nobody claimed my shirts or my drawers, though
A TRAMP ABROAD.
363
I described them as well as I was able. I gave them to the chamber-
maid that night when I went to bed, and she probably found the owner,
for my own things were on a chair outside my door in the morning.
There was a loveable English clergyman who did not get to the
table d'hote at all. His breeches had turned up missing, and without
any equivalent. He said he was not more particular than other
people, but he had noticed that a clergyman at dinner without any
breeches was almost sure to excite remark.
'SLOVENLY,*
364: 4 TRAMP ABROAD.
CHAPTER XXXVI,
We did not over sleep at St. Nicholas. The church-bell began to ring
at 4.30 in the morning, and from the length of time it continued to
ring I judged that it takes the Swiss sinner a good while to get the
invitation through his head. Most church-bells in the world are of
poor quality, and have a harsh and rasping sound which upsets the
temper and produces much sin, but the St. Nicholas bell is a good deal
the worst one that has been contrived yet, and is peculiarly maddening
in its operation. Still, it may have its right and its excuse to exist, for
the community is poor and not every citizen can afford a clock, per-
haps ; but there cannot be any excuse for our church-bells at home,,
for there is no family in America without a clock, and consequently
there is no fair pretext for the usual Sunday medley of dreadful sounds
that issues from our steeples. There is much more profanity in
America on Sunday than in all the other six days of the week put
together, and it is of a more bitter and malignant character than the
week-day profanity, too. It is produced by the cracked-pot clangour
of the cheap church-bells.
We build our churches almost without regard to cost ; we rear
an edifice which is an adornment to the town, and we gild it, and
fresco it, and mortgage it, and do everything we can think of to
perfect it, and then spoil . it all by putting a bell on it which afflicts
everybody who hears it, giving some the headache, others St. Vitus's
dance, and the rest the blind -staggers.
An American village at ten o'clock on a summer Sunday is the
quietest and peacefullest and holiest thing in nature ; but it is a pretty
different thing half an hour later. Mr. Poe's poem of the ' Bells '
stands incomplete to this day ; but it is well enough that it is so.
for the public reciter or ' reader ' who goes around trying to imitate thi*
sounds of the various sorts of bells with his voice would find himsel-
A TRAMP ABROAD.
365
"up a stump' when he got to the church-bell — as Joseph Addison
would say. The church is always trying to get other people to reform ;
it might not be a bad idea to reform
itself a little, by way of example. It
is still clinging to one or two things
which were useful once, but which are
not useful now, neither are they orna-
mental. One is the bell-ringing to re-
mind a clock- caked town that it is
church-time, and another is the read-
ing from the pulpit of a tedious list
of ' notices ' which everybody who is
interested has already read in the news-
paper. The clergyman even reads the
hymn through — a relic of an ancient
time when hymn-books were scarce and
costly ; but everybody has a hymn-book
now, and so the public reading is no
longer necessary. It is not merely un-
necessary, it is generally painful; for
the average clergyman could not fire
into his congregation with a shot-gun
and hit a worse reader than himself,
unless the weapon scattered shamefully.
I am not meaning to be flippant and
irreverent, I am only meaning to be
truthful. The average clergyman, in
all countries and of all denominations,
is a very bad reader. One would think
he would at least learn how to read
the Lord's Prayer, by-and-by, but it is
not so. He races through it as if he
thought the quicker he got it in the sooner it would be answered.
A person who does not appreciate the exceeding value of pauses, and
does not know how to measure their duration judiciously, cannot
render the grand simplicity and dignity of a composition like that
effectively.
A SUNDAY MORNING'S DEMON.
SCG A TRAMP ABROAD.
We took a tolerably early breakfast, and tramped off toward Zermatt
through the reeking lanes of the village, glad to get away from that
bell. By-and-by we had a fine spectacle on our right. It was the
warlike butt- end of a huge glacier, which looked down on us from
an Alpine height which was well up in the blue sky. It was an asto-
nishing amount of ice to be compacted together in one mass. We
ciphered upon it and decided that it was not less than several hundred
feet from the base of the wall of solid ice to the top of it — Harris
believed it was really twice that. We judged that if St. Paul's, St.
Peter's, the Great Pyramid, the Strasburg Cathedral, and the Capitol
at Washington were clustered against that wall, a man sitting on its
upper edge could not hang his hat on the top of any one of them with-
out reaching down three or four hundred feet — a thing which, of
course, no man could do.
To me, that mighty glacier was very beautiful. I did not imagine
that anybody could find fault with it ; but I was mistaken. Harris
had been snarling for several days. He was a rabid Protestant, and
he was always saying —
'In the Protestant cantons you never see such poverty and dirt
and squalor as you do in this Catholic one; you never see the lanes
and alleys flowing with foulness ; you never see such wf etched little
sties of houses ; you never see an inverted tin turnip on top of a church
for a dome ; and as for a church-bell, why, you never hear a church-
bell at all/
All this morning he had been finding fault, straight along. First
it was with the mud. He said, ' It ain't muddy in a Protestant
canton when it rains.' Then it was with the dogs : ' They don't have
those lop-eared dogs in a Protestant canton.' Then it was with the
roads : ' They don't leave the roads to make themselves in a Protestant
canton, the people make them — and they make a road that is a road,
too.' Next it was the goats : ' You never see a goat shedding tears
in a Protestant canton — a goat, there, is one of the cheerfullest objects
in nature.' Next it was the chamois : ' You never see a Protestant
chamois act like one of these — they take a bite or two and go ; but
these fellows camp with you and stay/ Then it was the guide-boards :
* In a Protestant canton you couldn't get lost if you wanted to, but you
never see a guide-board in a Catholic canton/ Next, * You never see
A TRAMP ABROAD. BCT
any flower -boxes in the windows, here — never anything but now and
then a cat — a torpid one ; but you take a Protestant canton : windows
perfectly lovely with flowers — and as for cats, there's just acres of them.
These folks in this canton leave a road to make itself, and then fine you
three francs if you " trot " over it — as if a horse could trot over such
a sarcasm of a road.' Next about the goitre : ' They talk about goitre !
— I haven't seen a goitre in this whole canton that I couldn't put in a
hat.'
He had growled at everything, but I judged it would puzzle him
to find anything the matter with this majestic glacier. I intimated
as much ; but he was ready, and said with surly discontent —
' You ought to see them in the Protestant cantons.'
This irritated me. But I concealed the feeling, and asked —
* What is the matter with this one ? '
'Matter? Why, it ain't in any kind of condition. They never
take any care of a glacier here. The moraine has been spilling gravel
around it, and got it all dirty.'
' Why, man, they can't help that.'
' They ? You're right. That is, they won't. They could if they
wanted to. You never see a speck of dirt on a Protestant glacier.
Look at the Rhone glacier. It is fifteen miles long, and seven hundred
feet thick. If this was a Protestant glacier you wouldn't see it looking
like this, I can tell you.'
' That is nonsense. What would they do with it ? '
( They would whitewash it. They always do.'
I did not believe a word of this, but rather than have trouble I
let it go ; for it is a waste of breath to argue with a bigot. I even
doubted if the Rhone glacier was in a Protestant canton ; but I did not
knew, so I could not make anything by contradicting a man who would
probably put me down at once with manufactured evidence.
About nine miles from St. Nicholas we crossed a bridge over the
raging torrent of the Visp, and came to a long strip of flimsy fencing
which was pretending to secure people from tumbling over a perpendi-
cular wall forty feet high and into the river. Three children were
approaching ; one of them, a little girl about eight years old, was
running ; when pretty close to us she stumbled and fell, and her feet
shot under the rail of the fence and for a moment projected over the
368
A TBAMP ABROAD.
siream. It gave us a sharp shock, tor we thought she was gone, sure,
for the ground slanted steeply, and to save herself seemed a sheer im-
possibility ; but she managed to scramble up, and ran by us laughing.
We went forward and examined the place and saw the long track?
which her feet had made in the dirt when they darted over the verge.
*«
111
JUST SAVED.
If she had finished her trip she would have struck some big rocks
on the edge of the water, and then the torrent would have snatched
her down- stream among the half -covered boulders, and she would have
been pounded to pulp in two minutes. We had come exceedingly
near witnessing her death.
A TRAMP ABROAD. '6C9
And iioav Harris's contrary nature and inborn selfishness were
•strikingly manifested. He has no spirit of self-denial. He began
straight off, and continued for an hour, to express his gratitude that
the child was not destroyed. I never saw such a man. Tnat was the
kind of person he was ; just so he was gratified, he never cared any-
thing about anybody else. I had noticed that trait in him, over and
over again. Often, of course, it was mere heedlessness, mere want of
reflection. Doubtless this may have been the case in most instances,
but it was not the less hard to bear on that account — and after all,
its bottom, its groundwork, was selfishness. There is no avoiding
that conclusion. In the instance under consideration, I did think the
indecency of running on in that way might occur to him ; but no,
the child was saved and he was glad, that was sufficient — he cared not
a straw for my feelings, or my loss of such a literary plum, snatched
from my very mouth at the instant it was ready to drop into it. His
selfishness was sufficient to place his own gratification in being spared
suffering clear before all concern for me, his friend. Apparently he did
not once reflect upon the valuable details which would have fallen
like a windfall to me : fishing the child out — witnessing the surprise of
the family and the stir the thing would have made among the peasants —
then a Swiss funeral — then the roadside monument, to be paid for
by us and have our names mentioned in it. And we should have
gone into Baedeker and been immortal. I was silent. I was too much
hurt to complain. If he could act so, and be so heedless and so frivolous
at such a time, and actually seem to glory in it, after all I had done
for him, I would have cut my hand off before I would let him see that
I was wounded.
We were approaching Zermatt, consequently we were approaching
the renowned Matterhorn. A month before this mountain had been
only a name to us, but latterly we had been moving through a steadily
thickening double row of pictures of it, done in oil, water, chromo,
wood, steel, copper, crayon, and photography, and so it had at length
become a shape to us — and a very distinct, decided, and familiar one,
too. We were expecting to recognise that mountain whenever or
wherever we should run across it. We were not deceived. The mon -
arch was far away when we first saw him, but there was no such
thing as mistaking him. He has the rare peculiarity of standing by
£ B
370 A TRAMP ABE AH
himself. He is peculiarly steep, too, and is also most oddly shaped.
He towers into the sky like a colossal wedge, with the upper, third
of its blade bent a little to the left. The broad base of this monster
wedge is planted upon a grand glacier-paved Alpine platform whose
elevation is ten thousand feet above sea level ; as the wedge itself is
some five thousand feet high, it follows that its apex is about fifteen
thousand feet above sea level. So the whole bulk of this stately piece
of rock, this sky-cleaving monolith, is above the line of eternal snow.
Yet while all its giant neighbours have the look of being built of solid
snow, from their waists up, the Matterhorn stands black and naked and
forbidding the year round, or merely powdered or streaked with white
in places, for its sides are so steep that the snow cannot stay there.
Its strange form, its august isolation, and its majestic unkinship with its-
own kind, make it, so to speak, the Napoleon of the mountain world.
1 Grand, gloomy, and peculiar,' is a phrase which fits it as aptly as it
fitted the great captain.
Think of a monument a mile high, standing on a pedestal two-
miles high ! This is what the Matterhorn is — a monument. Its office
henceforth, for all time, will be to keep watch and ward over the secret
resting-place of the young Lord Douglas, who in 1865 was precipitated
from the summit over U precipice 4,000 feet high, and never. seen again.
No man ever had such a monument as this before. The most imposing-
of the world's other monuments are but atoms compared to it; and
they will perish, and their places will pass from memory, but this will
remain. 1
A walk from St. Nicholas to Zermatt is a wonderful experience.
Nature is built on a stupendous plan in that region. One marches
continually between walls that are piled into the skies, with their
upper heights broken into a confusion of sublime shapes that gleam
white and cold against the background of blue ; and here and there
one sees a big glacier displaying its grandeurs on the top of a precipice,
or a graceful cascade leaping and flashing down the green declivities.
1 The accident which cost Lord Douglas his life (see Chapter XLI.) also
cost the lives of three other men. These three fell four-fifths of a mile, and
their bodies were afterwards found lying side by side upon a glacier, whence they
were borne to Zermatt and buried in the churchyard. The remains of Lord
Douglas have never been found. The secret of his sepulchre, like that of Moses,
must remain a mystery always.
VIEW IN VALLEY OP ZERMATT.
B B 2
A TRAMP ABROAD. ^75
There is nothing tame, or cheap, or trivial — it is all magnificent.
That short valley is a picture gallery of a notable kind, for it contains
no mediocrities ; from end to end the Creator has hung it with His
masterpieces.
We made Zermatt at three in the afternoon, nine hours out from
St. Nicholas. Distance, by guide-book, twelve miles ; by pedometer,
seventy-two. We were in the heart and home of the mountain-climbers
now, as all visible things testified. The snow-peaks did not hold them-
selves aloof, in aristocratic reserve; they nestled close around, in a
friendly sociable way ; guides, with the ropes and axes, and other im-
plements of their fearful calling slung about their persons, roosted in a
long line upon a stone wall in front of the hotel, and waited for custo-
mers; sun-burned climbers in mountaineering costume, and followed
by their guides and porters, arrived from time to time, from break-neck
expeditions among the peaks and glaciers of the High Alps ; male and
female tourists, on mules, filed by in a continuous procession, hotel-
ward-bound from wild adventures which would grow in grandeur
every time the}' were described at the English or American fireside,
and at last outgrow the possible itself.
We were not dreaming ; this was not a make-believe home of the
Alp-climber, created by our heated imaginations; no, for here was
Mr. Girdlestone himself, the famous Englishman who hunts his way
to the most formidable Alpine summits without a guide. I was not
equal to imagining a Girdlestone ; it was all I could do to even realise
him, while looking straight at him at short range. I would rather face
whole Hyde Parks of artillery than the ghastly forms of death which
he has faced among the peaks and precipices of the mountains. There
is probably no pleasure equal to the pleasure of climbing a dangerous
Alp ; but it is a pleasure which is confined strictly to people who can
find pleasure in it. I have not jumped to this conclusion; I have
travelled to it per gravel train, so to speak. I have thought the
thing all out, and am quite sure I am right. A born climber's appetite
for climbing is hard to satisfy ; when it comes upon him he is like a
starving man with a feast before him ; he may have other business on
hand, but it must wait. Mr. Girdlestone had had his usual summer
holiday in the Alps, and had spent it in his usual way, hunting for
unique chances to break his neck ; his vacation was over, and his
376 A TRAMP ABROAD,
luggage packed for England, but all of a sudden a hunger had come upon
him to climb the tremendous Weisshorn once more, for he had heard
of a new and utterly impossible route up it. His baggage was unpacked
at once, and now he and a friend, laden with knapsacks, ice-axes,
coils of rope, and canteens of milk, were just setting out. They would
spend the night high up among the snows, somewhere, and get up
at two in the morning and finish the enterprise. I had a strong
desire to go with them, but forced it down — a feat which Mr. Girdle-
stone, with all his fortitude, could not do.
Even ladies catch the climbing mania, and are unable to throw
it off. A famous climber of that sex had attempted the Weisshorn a
few days before our arrival, and she and her guides had lost their way
in a snowstorm high up among the peaks and glaciers, and been forced
to wander around a good while before they could find a way down.
When this lady reached the bottom she had been on her feet twenty-
three hours !
Our guides, hired on the Gemmi, were already at Zermatt when
we reached there. So there was nothing to interfere with our getting
up an adventure whenever we should choose the time and the object.
I resolved to devote my first evening in Zermatt to studying up the
subject of Alpine climbing, by way of preparation.
I read several books, and here are some of the things I found out.
One's shoes must be strong and heavy and have pointed hobnails in
them. The alpenstock must be of the best wood, for if it should
break loss of life might be the result. One should carry an axe to
cut steps in the ice with, on the great heights. There must be a
ladder, for there are steep bits of rock which can be surmounted with
this instrument — or this utensil — but could not be surmounted without
it ; such an obstruction has compelled the tourist to waste hours hunt-
ing another route, when a ladder would have saved him all trouble.
One must have from 150 to 500 feet of strong rope, to be used in
lowering the party down steep declivities, which are too steep and
smooth to be traversed in any other way. One must have a steel
hook on another rope — a very useful thing ; for when one is ascending,
and comes to a low bluff which is yet too high for the ladder, he
swings this rope aloft like a lasso, the hook catches at the top of the
bluff, and then the tourist climbs the rope hand over hand — being
A TliAWP ABROAD.
377
always particular to try and forget that it the hook gives way he will
never stop falling till he arrives in some part of Switzerland where
they are not expecting him. Another important thing — there must
be a rope to tie the whole party together with, so that if one falls from
a mountain or down a
bottomless chasm in a
glacier, the others may
brace back on the rope
and save him. One must
have a silk veil, to protect
his face from snow, sleet,
hail, and gale, and colour-
ed goggles to protect his
eyes from that dangerous
enemy, snow- blindness.
Finally, there must be
some porters, to carry pro-
visions, wine, and scienti-
fic instruments, and also
blanket bags for the party
to sleep in.
I closed my readings
with a fearful adventure
which Mr. Whymper once
had on the Matterhorn
when he was prowling
around alone, 5,000 feet above the town of Briel. He was edging his
way gingerly around the corner of a precipice where the upper edge
of a sharp declivity of ice-glazed snow joined it. This declivity
swept down a couple of hundred feet, into a gully which curved around
and ended at a precipice 800 feet high, overlooking a glacier. His
foot slipped, and he fell. He says: — ■
'My knapsack brought my head down first, and I pitched into
some rocks about a dozen feet below ; they caught something, and
tumbled me off the edge, head over heels, into the gully ; the baton
was dashed from my hands, and I whirled downwards in a series of
bounds, each, longer than the last; now over ice, now into rocks, strik-
FITTED OUT.
878
A TRAMP ABROAD.
ing my head four or five times, each time with increased force. The
last bound sent me spinning through the air in a leap of fifty or sixty
feet, from one side of the gully to the other, and I struck the rocks,
luckily, with the whole of my left side. They caught my clothes for a
moment, and I fell back on to the snow with motion arrested. My
head fortunately came the right side up, and a few frantic catches
brought me to a halt in the neck of the gully and on the verge of the
precipice. Baton, hat, and veil skimmed by and disappeared, and
AN ALP-CKCIBEIt.
the crash of the rocks — which I had started — as they fell on to the
glacier, told how narrow had been the escape from utter destruction.
As it was, I fell nearly 200 feet in seven or eight bounds. Ten feet
more would have taken me in- one gigantic leap of 800 feet on to the
glacier below.
' The situation was sufficiently serious. The rocks could not be let
go for a moment, and the blood was spirting out of more than twenty
cuts. The most serious ones were in the head, and I vainly tried to
close them with one hand, whilst holding on with the other. It was
useless; the blood gushed out in blinding jets at each pulsation. At
A TRAMP ABROAD. 379
last, in a moment of inspiration, I kicked out a big lump of snow and
stuck it as plaister on my head. The idea was a happy one, and the
flow of blood diminished. Then, scrambling up, I got, not a moment
too soon, to a place of safety, and fainted away. The sun was setting
when consciousness returned, and it was pitch-dark before the Great
Staircase was descended ; but by a combination of luck and care, the
whole 4,700 feet of descent to Breil was accomplished without a slip,
or once missing the way.'
His wounds kept him a-bed some days. Then he got up and
climbed that mountain again. That is the way with a true Alp-climber;
the more fun he has, the more he wants.
380 A TRAMP ABROAD.
CHAPTER XXXVII.
After I had finished my readings I was no longer myself; I was
tranced, uplifted, intoxicated, by the almost incredible perils and
adventures I had been following my authors through, and the triumphs
I had been sharing with them. I sat silent some time, then turned to
Harris, and said —
' My mind is made up.'
Something in my tone struck him ; and when he gianced at my eye
and read what was written there, his face paled perceptibly. He
hesitated a moment, then said —
' Speak.'
I answered with perfect calmness —
' I WILL ASCEND THE RlFFELBERG.'
I£ I had shot my poor friend he could not have fallen from his
chair more suddenly. If I had been his father he could not have
pleaded harder to get me to give up my purpose. But I turned a
deaf ear to all he said. When he perceived at last that nothing could
alter my determination he ceased to urge, and for a while the deep
silence was broken only by his sobs. I sat in marble resolution, with
my eyes fixed upon vacancy, for in spirit I was already wrestling with
the perils of the mountains, and my friend sat gazing at me in adoring
admiration through his tears. At last he threw himself upon me in a
loving embrace, and exclaimed in broken tones —
' Your Harris will never desert you. We will die together ! '
I cheered the noble fellow with praises, and soon his fears were
forgotten, and he was eager for the adventure. He wanted to summon
the guides at once and leave at two in the morning, as he supposed
the custom was; but I explained that nobody was looking at that
A TRAMP ABROAD.
381
hour, and that the start in the dark was not usually made from the
village, but from the first night's resting-place on the mountain side.
I said we would leave the village at three or four p.m. on the morrow ;
meantime he could notify the guides, and also let the public know of
the attempt which we proposed to make.
I went to bed, but not to sleep. No man can sleep when he is
about to undertake one of these Alpine exploits. I tossed feverishly
all night long, and was glad enough when I heard the clock strike half-
past eleven, and knew it was time to get up for dinner. I rose jaded
and rusty, and went to the noon meal, where I found myself the
centre of interest and curiosity, for the news was already abroad. It is
not easy to eat calmly when you are a lion, but it is very pleasant,
nevertheless.
As usual, at Zermatt, when a great ascent is about to be under-
taken, everybody, native and foreign, laid aside his own projects and
took up a good position to observe the start. The expedition consisted
of 198 persons, including the mules, or 205, including the cows. Aa
follows: —
Chiefs of Service.
Myself.
Mr. Harris.
17 Guides.
4 Surgeons.
1 Geologist.
1 Botanist.
3 Chaplains.
2 Draftsmen.
15 Barkeepers.
1 Latinist.
Subordinates.
1 Veterinary Surgeon.
1 Butler.
12 Waiters.
1 Footman.
1 Barber.
1 Head Cook.
9 Assistants.
4 Pastry Cooks.
1 Confectionery Artist
Transportation, etc.
27 Porters.
44 Mules.
44 Muleteers.
3 Coarse Washers and Ii oners,
1 Fine ditto.
7 Cows.
2 Milkers. .
Total, 154 men, 51 animals. Grand Total, 205.
SS2
A TRAMP ABROAD.
Rations, etc.
16 Cases Hams.
2 Barrels Flour.
22 Barrels Whisky.
1 Barrel Sugar.
1 Keg Lemons.
2,000 Cigars.
1 Barrel Pies.
1 Ton of Pemraican.
143 Pair Crutches.
2 Barrels Arnica.
1 Bale of Lint.
27 Kegs Paregoric.
Apparatus,
25 Spring Mattresses.
2 Hair ditto.
Bedding for same.
2 Mosquito Nets.
29 Tents.
Scientific Instruments.
97 Ice-axes.
5 Cases Dynamite.
7 Cans Nitro-glycerine.
22 40-foot Ladders.
2 Miles of Rope.
154 Umbrellas.
It was full four o'clock in the afternoon before my cavalcade was
entirely ready. At that hour it began to move. In point of numbers
and spectacular effect it was the most imposing expedition that had
ever marched from Zermatt.
I commanded the chief guide to arrange the men and animals in
single file, twelve feet apart, and lash them all together on a strong
rope. He objected that the first two miles was a dead level, with
plenty of room, and that the rope was never used except in very
dangerous places. But I would not listen to that. My reading had
taught me that many serious accidents had happened in the Alps simply
from not having the people tied up soon enough ; I was not going to add
one to the list. The guide then obeyed my order.
When the procession stood at ease, roped together, and ready to
move, I never saw a finer sight. It was 3,122 feet long — over half
a mile ; every man but Harris and me was on foot, and had on his
green veft and his blue goggles, and his white rag around his hat,
and his coil of rope over one shoulder and under the other, and his ice- !
axe in his belt, and carried his alpenstock in his left hand, his
umbrella (closed) in his right, and his crutches slung at his back.
The burdens of the pack mules and the horns of the cows were decked
with the Edelweiss and the Alpine rose.
I and my agent were the only persons mounted. We were in the
post of danger in the extreme rear, and tied securely to five guides
apiece. Our armour-bearers carried our ice-axes, alpenstocks, and
A Tit AMP ABROAD.
333
other implements for us. We were mounted upon very small donkeys,
aa a measure of safety ; in time of peril we could straighten our
legs and stand up, and let the donkey walk from under. Still, I
cannot recommend this sort of animal — at least for excursions of mere
pleasure — because his ears interrupt the view. I and my agent
possessed the regulation mountaineering costumes, but concluded to
leave them behind. Out of resDect for the great numbers of tourists of
both sexes who would be assembled in front of the hotels to see us
ALL READY.
pass, and also out of respect for the many tourists whom we expected
to encounter on our expedition, we decided to make the ascent in even-
ing dress.
At fifteen minutes past four I gave the command to move, and
my subordinates passed it along the line. The great crowd in front of
the Monte Rosa hotel parted in twain, with a cheer, as the procession
approached, and as the head of it was filing by I gave the order,
* Unlimber — make ready — hoist ! ' and with one impulse up went my
half mile of umbrellas. It was a beautiful* sight, and a total surprise to
384
A TRAMP ABROAD.
the spectators. Nothing like that had ever been seen in th
before. The applause it brought forth was deeply gratifying
and I rode by with my plug hat in my
hand to testify my appreciation of it.
It was the only testimony I could offer,
for I was too full to speak.
We watered the caravan at the cold
stream which rushes down a trough near
the end of the village, and soon after-
ward left the haunts of civilisation behind
as. About half -past five o'clock we
arrived at a bridge which spans the
Visp, and after throwing
e Alps
to me,
over a detachment to
see if it was safe, the
caravan crossed without
accident. The way now
led, by a gentle ascent,
carpeted with fresh
green grass, to the
church of Winkelmat-
ten. Without stopping
to examine this edifice,
I executed a flank
movement to the right
and crossed the bridge
over the Findelenbach, after first
testing its strength. Here I
deployed to the right again, and
presently entered an inviting
stretch of meadow land which
was unoccupied save hy a
couple of deserted huts toward
its furthest extremity. These meadows of-
fered an excellent camping -place. We
pitched our tents, supped, established a pro-
per guard, recorded the events of the day, and
then went to bed.
THE .MARCH.
c-c
A TRAMP ABROAD. 387
We rose at two in the morning and dressed by candle-light. It
was a dismal and chilly business. A few stars were shining, but the
general heavens were overcast, and the great shaft of the Matterhorn
was draped in a sable pall of clouds. The chief guide advised a
delay , he said he feared it was going to rain. We waited until nine
o'clock, and then got away in tolerably clear weather.
Our course led up some terrific steeps, densely wooded with larches
and cedars, and traversed by paths which the rains had guttered and
which were obstructed by loose stones. To add to the danger and in-
convenience, we were constantly meeting returning tourists on foot or
horseback, and as constantly being crowded and battered by ascending
tourists who were in a hurry and wanted to get by.
Our troubles thickened. About the middle of the afternoon the
seventeen guides called a halt and held a consultation. After consult-
ing an hour they said their first suspicion remained intact — that is to
say, they believed they were lost. I asked if they did not know it ?
No, they said, they couldn't absolutely know whether they were lost or
not, because none of them had ever been in that part of the country
before. They had a strong instinct that they were lost, but they had
no proofs, except that they did not know where they were. They had
met no tourists for some time, and they considered that a suspicious
sign.
Plainly we were in an ugly fix. The guides were naturally un-
willing to go alone and seek a way out of the difficulty ; so we all went
together. For better security we moved slowly and cautiously, for
the forest was very dense. We did not move up the mountain, but
around it, hoping to strike across the old trail. Toward nightfall,
when we were about tired out, we came up against a rock as big
as a cottage. This barrier took all the remaining spirit out of the
men, and a panic of fear and despair ensued. They moaned and wept,
and said they should never see their homes and their dear ones again.
Then they began to upbraid me for bringing them upon this fatal
expedition. Some even muttered threats against me.
Clearly it was no time to show weakness. So I made a speech
in which I said that other Alp-climbers had been in as perilous a
position as this, and yet by courage and perseverance had escaped. I
promised to stand by them ; I promised to rescue them. I closed by
cc 2
388
A TRAMP ABROAD.
saying we had plenty of provisions to maintain us for quite a siege;
and did they suppose Zermatt would allow half a mile of men and
mules to mysteriously disappear during any considerable time, right
above their noses, and make no inquiries ? No, Zermatt would send
out searching expeditions, and we should be saved.
This speech had a great effect. The men pitched the tents with
some little show of cheerfulness, and we were snugly under cover when
the night shut down. I now reaped the reward of my wisdom in pro-
\viding one article which is not mentioned in
any book of Alpine adventure but this. I
refer to the paregoric. But for that beneficent
drug, not one of those men would have slept
a moment during that fearful night. But
for that gentle persuader they must have tossed,
unsoothed, the night through ; for the whisky
was for me. Yes, they would have risen in
the morning unfitted for their heavy task.
As it was, everybody slept but my agent and
me — only we two and the barkeepers. I
would not permit myself to sleep at such a
time. I considered myself responsible for all
those lives. I meant to be on hand and-
ready, in case of avalanches. I am aware
now that there were no avalanches up there,
but I did not know it then.
We watched the weather all through that
awful night, and kept an eye on the baro-
meter, to be prepared for the least change.
There was not the slightest change re-
corded by the instrument, during the whole
^ 0000m y% k time. Words cannot describe the comfort
{_ ^/ \ that that friendly, hopeful, steadfast thing
was to me in that season of trouble. It
was a defective barometer, and had no hand
but the stationary brass pointer, but I did
not know that until afterwards. If I should be in such a situatioD
again, I should not wish for any barometer but that one.
THE HOOK.
A Til AMP ABROAD. 389
All hands rose at two in the morning and took breakfast, and as
soon as it was light we roped ourselves together and went at that rock.
For some time we tried the hook-rope and other means of scaling it,
but without success — that is, without perfect success. The hook
caught once, and Harris started up it, hand over hand, but the hold
broke, and if there had not happened to be a chaplain sitting under-
neath at the time, Harris would certainly have been crippled. As it
was, it was the chaplain. He took to his crutches, and I ordered the
hook-rope to be laid aside. It was too dangerous an implement where
so many people were standing around.
We were puzzled for a while; then somebody thought of the
ladders. One of these was leaned against the rock, and the men went
up it tied together in couples. Another
ladder was sent up for use in descend-
ing. At the end of half an hour every-
body was over, and that rock was
conquered. We gave our first grand
shout of triumph. But the joy was
short-lived, for somebody asked how we
were going to get the animals over.
This was a serious difficulty; in
fact, it was an impossibility. The
courage of the men began to waver
immediately ; once more we were
threatened with a panic. But when
the danger was most imminent, we
were saved in a mysterious way. A ' «^m**— -c--— — '
~ 1 -L-T-t-J - j. j j. j- THE DISABLLD CHAPLAIN.
mule which had attracted attention
from the beginning by its disposition to experiment, tried to eat a five-
pound can of nitro-glycerine. This happened right alongside the rock.
The explosion threw us all to the ground, and covered us with dirt and
debris; it frightened us extremely, too, for the crash it made was
deafening, and the violence of the shock made the ground tremble.
However, we were grateful, for the rock was gone. Its place was
occupied by a new cellar, about thirty feet across, by fifteen feet deep.
The explosion was heard as far as Zermatt ; and an hour and a half
afterwards many citizens of that town were knocked down and quite
390
A TRAMP ABROAD.
TRYING- EXPERIMENTS.
seriously injured by descending portions of mule meat, frozen solid.
This shows, better than any estimate in figures, how high the experi-
menter went.
We had nothing to do now but bridge the cellar and proceed on
our way. With a cheer the men went at their work. I attended
to the engineering my-
self. I appointed a
strong detail to cut
down trees with ice-
axes and trim them for
piers to support the
bridge. This was a
slow business, for ice-
axes are not good to
cut wood with. 1
caused my piers to be
firmly set up in ranks,
in the cellar, and upon
them I laid six of my
forty-foot ladders, side by side, and laid six more on top of them.
Upon this bridge I caused a bed of boughs to be spread, and on top of
the boughs a bed of earth six inches deep. I stretched ropes upon
either side to serve as railings, and then my bridge was complete. A
train of elephants could have crossed it in safety and comfort. By
nightfall the caravan was on the other side, and the ladders taken up.
Next morning we went on in good spirits for a while, though our
way was slow and difficult, by reason of the steep and rocky nature of
the ground and the thickness of the forest ; but at last a dull despon-
dency crept into the men's faces, and it was apparent that not only they,
but even the guides, were now convinced that we were lost. The
fact that we still met no tourists was a circumstance that was but too
significant. Another thing seemed to suggest that we were not only
lost, but very badly lost; for there must surely be- searching parties
on the road before this time, yet we had seen no sign of them.
Demoralisation was spreading ; something must be done, and done
quickly too. Fortunately, I am not unfertile in expedients. I con-
trived one now which commended itself to all, for it promised well.
A TRAMP ABROAD.
391
I took three-quarters of a mile of rope and fastened one end of it around
the waist of a guide, and told him to go and find the road, whilst the
caravan waited. I instructed him to guide himself back by the rope,
in case of failure ; in case of success, he was to give the rope a series
of violent jerks, whereupon the Expedition would go to him at once.
He departed, and in two minutes had disappeared among the trees. I
paid out the rope myself, while every-
body watched the crawling thing with
ciiger eyes. The rope crept away quite
slowly, at times, at other times with some
briskness. Twice or thrice we seemed
to get the signal, and a shout was just
ready to break from the men's lips when
they perceived it was a false alarm. But
at last, when over half a mile of rope had
slidden away, it stopped gliding and stood
absolutely still — one minute — two minutes
— three — while we held our breath and
watched.
Was the guide resting ? Was he
scanning the country from some high
• ^ w l. • ••■ r i SAVED! SAVED!
point : Was he inquiring of a chance
mountaineer? Stop — had he fainted from excess of fatigue and
anxiety ?
This thought gave us a shock. I was in the very act of detailing
an expedition to succour him, when the cord was assailed with
a series of such frantic jerks that I could hardly keep hold of it.
The huzza that went up, then, was good to hear. ' Saved! saved ! ' was
the word that rang out, all down the long rank of the caravan.
We rose up and started at once. We found the route to be good
enough for a while, but it began to grow difficult, by-and-by, and this
feature steadily increased. When we judged we had gone half a mile,
we momently expected to see the guide ; but no, he was not visible
anywhere; neither was he waiting, for the rope was still moving,
consequently he was doing the same. This argued that he had not
found the road yet, but was marching to it with some peasant. There
was nothing for us to do but plod along, and this we did. At the
392
A TRAMP ABROAD.
end of three hours we were still plodding. This was not only mysteri-
ous, but exasperating. And very fatiguing, too ; for we had tried
hard, along at first, to catch up with the guide, but had only fagged
ourselves in vain ; for although he was travelling slowly he was yet
able to go faster than the hampered caravan over such ground.
At three in the afternoon we were nearly dead with exhaus-
tion — and still the rope was slowly gliding out. The murmurs
against the guide had been growing steadily, and at last they were
become loud and savage. A mutiny ensued. The men refused to
proceed. They declared that we had been travelling over and
over the same ground all day, in a kind of circle. They demanded
TWENTY MINUTES' WOEK.
that our end of the rope be made fast to a tree, so as to halt the guide
until we could overtake him and kill him. This was not an unreason-
able requirement, so I gave the order.
As soon as the rope was tied, the Expedition moved forward with
that alacrity which the thirst for vengeance usually inspires. But after
a tiresome march of almost half a mile, we came to a hill covered
thick with a crumbly rubbish of stones, and so steep that no man of us
all was now in a condition to climb it. Every attempt failed, and ended
in crippling somebody. Within twenty minutes I had five men on
crutches. Whenever a climber tried to assist himself by the rope, it
yielded and let him tumble backwards. The frequency of this result
suggested an idea to me. I ordered the caravan to 'bout face and form
.1 TRAMP ABROAD.
393
in marching order; I then made the tow-rope fast to the rear mule,
and gave the command —
i Mark time — by the right flank — forward — march ! '
The procession began to move, to the impressive strains of a battle
chant, and I said to myself, 'Now, if the rope don't break, I judge this
will fetch that guide into the camp.' I watched the rope gliding down
the hill, and presently when I was all fixed for triumph I was confronted
by a bitter disappointment : there was no guide tied to the rope, it was
only a very indignant old black ram. The fury of the baffled Expe-
dition exceeded all bounds. They even wanted to wreak their un-
reasoning vengeance on this innocent dumb brute. But I stood between
them and their prey, menaced by a bristling wall of ice-axes and
alpenstocks, and proclaimed that there was but one road to this murder,
and it was directly over my corse. Even as I spoke I saw that my doom
was sealed, except a miracle supervened to divert these madmen from
their fell purpose. I see that sickening wall of weapons now; I see
that advancing host as I saw it then, I see the hate in those cruel eyes;
I remember how I drooped my head upon my breast; I feel again the
sudden earthquake shock in my rear, administered by the very ram I
894
A TRAMP ABROAD.
was sacrificing myself to save ; I hear once more the typhoon of
laughter that burst from the assaulting column as I clove it from
van to rear like a Sepoy shot from a Rodman gun.
I was saved. Yes, I was saved, and by the merciful instinct of in-
gratitude which nature had planted in the breast of that treacherous
beast. The grace which eloquence had failed to work in those
men's hearts had been wrought by a laugh. The ram was set free and
my life was spared.
We lived to find out that that guide had deserted us as soon as he
had placed a half-mile between himself and us. To avert suspicion,
he had judged it best that the line should continue to move ; so he
caught that ram, and at the time
that he was sitting on it making
the rope fast to it, we were imagi-
ning that he was lying in a swoon,,
overcome by
fatigue and
distre ss.
When he al-
lowed the ram
to get up, it
fell to plung-
ing around,
trying to rid
fttt.lfa^fi
THE MIRACLE. itself of the
rope, and this was the signal which we had risen up with glad shouts
to obey. We had followed this ram round and round in a circle all
day — a thing which was proven by the discovery that we had watered
the Expedition seven times at one and the same spring in seven hours.
As expert a woodman as I am, I had somehow failed to notice this
until my attention was called to it by a hog. This hog was always
wallowing there, and as he was the only hog we saw, his frequent re-
petition, together with his unvarying similarity to himself, finally
caused me to reflect that he must be the same hog, and this led me
to the deduction that this must be the same spring also — which indeed
it was.
I made a note of this curious thing, as showing in a striking manner
A TIIAMP ABROAD.
395
the relative difference between glacial action and the action of the
hog. It is now a well-established fact that glaciers move ; I consider
that my observations go to show, with equal conclusiveness, that a hog
in a spring does not move. I shall be glad to receive the opinions of
other observers upon this point.
To return, for an explanatory moment, to that guide, and then I
shall be done with him. After leaving the ram tied to the rope,
he had wandered at large a while, and then happened to run across a
cow. Judging that a cow would naturally know more than a guide, he
took her by the tail, and the result justified his judgment. She nibbled
her leisurely way down-hill till it was near milking time ; then she
struck for home and towed him into Zermatt.
4«f**f?
THE NEW GUIDE.
306 A TRAMP ABROAD.
CHAPTER XXXVIII.
We went into camp on that wild spot to which that ram had brought
us. The men were greatly fatigued. Their conviction that we were
lost was forgotten in the cheer of a good supper, and before the reac-
tion had a chance to set in, I loaded them up with paregoric and put
them to bed.
Next morning I was considering in my mind our desperate situa-
tion and trying to think of a remedy, when Harris came to me with a
Baedeker map which showed conclusively that the mountain we were
on was still in Switzerland — yes, every part of it was in Switzerland.
So we were not lost, after all. This was an immense relief; it lifted
the weight of two such mountains from my breast. I immediately
had the news disseminated and the map exhibited. The effect was
wonderful. As soon as the men saw with their own eyes that they
knew where they were, and that it was only the summit that was lost
and not themselves, they cheered up instantly and said with one accord,
let the summit take care of itself, they were not interested in its
troubles.
Our distresses being at an end, I now determined to rest the men
in camp and give the scientific department of the Expedition a chance.
First I made a barometric observation, to get our altitude, but I could
not perceive that there was any result. I knew, by my scientific reading,
* that either thermometers or barometers ought to be boiled, to make
them accurate ; I did not know which it was, so I boiled both. There
was still no result ; so I examined these instruments and discovered that
they possessed radical blemishes : the barometer had no hand but the
brass pointer, and the ball of the thermometer was stuffed with tin
foil. I might have boiled those things to rags, and never found out any-
thing.
A TRAMP ABROAD.
397
n^-A
SCIENTIFIC RESEARCH ES.
I hunted up another barometer ; it was new and perfect. I boiled
it half an hour in a pot of bean soup which the cooks were making
The result was unexpected : the
instrument was not affected at all,
but there was such a strong baro-
meter taste to the soup that the
head cook, who was a most con-
scientious person, changed its
name in the bill of fare. The dish
was so greatly liked by all, that
I ordered the cook to have baro-
meter soup every day. It was
believed that the barometer might ,
eventually be injured, but I did .<^A£\
not care for that. I had demon- y _^Mt^
strated to my satisfaction that it^- —
could not tell how high a moun-
tain was, therefore I had no real
use for it. Changes of the weather I could take care of without it ; T
did not wish to know when the weather was going to be good ; what I
wanted to know was when it was going to be bad, and this I could find
out from Harris's corns. Harris had had his corns tested and regu-
lated at the government observatory in Heidelberg, and one could
depend upon them with confidence. So I transferred the new barometer
to the cooking department, to be used for the official mess. It was found
that even a pretty fair article of soup could be made with the defective
barometer ; so I allowed that one to be transferred to the subordinate
messes.
I next boiled the thermometer, and got a most excellent result ;
the mercury went up to about 200° Fahrenheit. In the opinion of
the other scientists of the Expedition, this seemed to indicate that
we had attained the extraordinary altitude of 200,000 feet above sea
level. Science places the line of eternal snow at about 10,000 feet
above sea level. There was no snow where we were, consequently it
was proven that the eternal snow line ceases somewhere above the
10,000 foot level and does not begin any more. This was an interest-
ing fact, and one which had not been observed by any observer before,
398 A TRAMP ABROAD.
It was as valuable as interesting, too, since it would open up the
deserted summits of the highest Alps to population and agriculture.
It was a proud thing to be where we were, yet it caused us a pang to
reflect that but for that ram we might just as well have been 200,000
feet higher.
The success of my last experiment induced me to try an experiment
with my photographic apparatus. I got it out, and boiled one of my
■cameras, but the thing was a failure : it made the wood swell up and
burst, and I could not see that the lenses were any better than they
were before.
I now concluded to boil a guide. It might improve him, it could
not impair his usefulness. But I was not allowed to proceed. Guides
have no feeling for science, and this one would not consent to be made
uncomfortable in its interest.
In the midst of my scientific work, one of those needless accidents
happened which are always occurring among the ignorant and thought-
less. A porter shot at a chamois and missed it and crippled the
Latinist. This was not a serious matter to me, for a Latinist's duties
are as well performed on crutches as otherwise — but the fact remained
that if the Latinist had not happened to be in the way a mule would
have got that load. That would have been quite another matter, lor
when it comes down to a question of value there is a palpable difference
between a Latinist and a mule. I could not depend on having a
Latinist in the right place every time; so, to make things safe, I
ordered that in future the chamois must not be hunted within the
limits of the camp with any other weapon than the forefinger.
My nerves had hardly grown quirt after this affair when they got
another shake-up — one which utterly unmanned me for a moment :
a rumour swept suddenly through the camp that one of the barkeepers
had fallen over a precipice.
However, it turned out that it was only a chaplain. I had laid
in an extra force of chaplains, purposely to be prepared for emergencies
like this, but by some unaccountable oversight had come away rather
short-handed in the matter of barkeepers.
On the following morning we moved on, well refreshed and in good
spirits. I remember this day with peculiar pleasure, because it saw
our road restored to us. Yes, we found our road again, and in quite
A TRAMP ABROAD.
399
an extraordinary way. We had plodded along some two hours and a
half, when we came up against a solid mass of rock about twenty
feet high. I
did not need -
to be in-
structed by a
mule this time.
— I was al-
ready begin-
ning to know
more than any
mule in the
Expedition. —
I at once put
in a blast of
dynamite, and
lifted that rock
out of the way.
But to my sur-
prise and mor-
tification, I
found that
there had been
a chalet on top
of it.
I picked up
such members
of the family
as fell in my
vicinity, and
subordinatesof
my corps col-
lected the rest.'
None of these
poor people
were injured, happily, but they were much annoyed. I explained to
the head chaleteer just how the thing happened, and that I was only
MOUNTAIN CHALET.
400 A TRAMP ABROAD.
searching for the road, and would certainly have given him timely
notice if I had known he was up there. I said I had meant no harm,
and hoped I had not lowered myself in his. estimation by raising him
a few rods in the air. I said many other judicious things, and finally
when I offered to rebuild his chalet, and pay for breakages, and throw
in the cellar, he was mollified and satisfied. He hadn't any cellar
at all, before ; he would not have as good a view, now, as formerly, but
what he had lost in view he had gained in cellar, by exact measure-
ment. He said there wasn't another hole like that in the mountains —
and he would have been right if the late mule had not tried to eat up
the nitro-glycerine.
I put a hundred and sixteen men at work, and they rebuilt the
chalet from its own debris in fifteen minutes. It was a good deal more
picturesque than it was before, too. The man said we were now on the
Feli-Stutz, above the Schwegmatt — information which I was glad to get,
since it gave us our position to a degree of particularity which we had
not been accustomed to for a day or so. We also learned that we were
standing at the foot of the Kiffelberg proper, and that the initial chapter
of our work was completed.
We had a fine view, from here, of the energetic Visp, as it makes
its first plunge into the world from under a huge arch of solid ice, worn
through the foot- wall of the great Gorner Glacier; and we could also
see the Furggenbach, which is the outlet of the Furggen Glacier.
The mule-road to the summit of the Riffelberg passed right in
front of the chalet, a circumstance which we almost immediately
noticed, because a procession of tourists was filing along it pretty
much all the time. 1 The chaleteer's business consisted in furnishing
refreshments to tourists. My blast had interrupted this trade for a
few minutes, by breaking all the bottles on the place ; but I gave the
man a lot of whisky to sell for Alpine champagne, and a lot of vinegar
which would answer for Rhine wine, consequently trade was soon as
brisk as ever.
Leaving the Expedition outside to rest, I quartered myself in the
chalet, with Harris, purposing to correct my journals and scientific
1 ' Pretty much ' may not be elegant English, but it is high time it was.
There is no elegant word or phrase which means just what it means. — M. T.
A TRAMP ABROAD. 401
observations before continuing the ascent. I had hardly begun my
work when a tall, slender, vigorous American youth of about twenty-
three, who was on his way down the mountain, entered and came
toward me with that breezy self-complacency which is the adolescent's
idea of the well-bred ease of the man of the world. His hair was short
and parted accurately in the middle, and he had all the look of an
American person who would be likely to begin his signature with an
initial, and spell his middle name out. He introduced himself, smiling
a smirky smile borrowed from the courtiers of the stage, extended a
fair-skinned talon, and whilst he gripped my hand in it he bent his
body forward three times at the hips, as the stage- courtier does, and
said in the airiest and most condescending and patronising way — I
quote his exact language —
1 Very glad to make your acquaintance, 'm sure ; very glad indeed,
assure you. I've read all your little efforts and greatly admired them,
and when I heard you were here, I .... '
I indicated a chair, and he sat down. This grandee was the grand-
son of an American of considerable note in his day, and not wholly
forgotten yet — a man who came so near being a great man that he was
quite generally accounted one while he lived.
I slowly paced the floor, pondering scientific problems, and heard
this conversation : —
Grandson. First visit to Europe?
Harris. Mine ? Yes.
G. S. (With a soft reminiscent sigh suggestive of bygone joys
that may be tasted in their freshness but once.) Ah, I know what
it is to you. A first visit ! — ah, the romance of it ! I wish I could
feel it again.
H. Yes, I find it exceeds all my dreams. It is enchantment. I
go ... .
G. S. (With a dainty gesture of the hand signifying, ' Spare me
your callow enthusiasms, good friend.') Yes, / know, I know ; you go
to cathedrals, and exclaim ; and you drag through league-long picture-
galleries and exclaim ; and you stand here, and there, and yonder,
upon historic ground, and continue to exclaim ; and you are permeated
with your first crude conceptions of Art, and are proud and happy.
D D
402
A TRAMP ABROAD.
Ah, yes, proud and happy — that expresses it. Yes, yes, enjoy it — it
is ri#ht — it is an innocent revel.
II. And
you
Don't you do these
things now ?
G. S. I ! Oh,
that is very good !
My dear sir, "when
you are as o]d a
traveller as I am,
you will not ask such
a question as that. I
visit the regulation
gallery, moon around
the regulation cathe-
dral, do the worn
round of the regula-
tion sights, yet ? —
Excuse me !
H. Well, what
Z do you do, then ?
G. S. Do? I flit
C — and flit — for I am
^ ever on the wing —
"" but I avoid the herd.
To-day I am in
Paris, to-morrow in
Berlin, anon in Rome; but you would look for me in vain in the
-. galleries of the Louvre or the common resorts of the gazers in those
I other capitals. If you would find me, you must look in the unvisited
nooks and corners where others never think of going. One day you
will find me making myself at home in some obscure peasant's cabin,
another day you will find me in some forgotten castle, worshipping
some little gem of art which the careless eye has overlooked and which
the inexperienced would despise ; again you will find me a guest in
the inner sanctuaries of palaces while the herd is content to get a hurried
glimpse of the unused chambers by feeing a servant.
THE GRANDSOI
A TRAMP ABROAD. 403
H. You are a guest in such places ?
£. £. And a welcome one.
#. It is surprising. How does it come ?
G. S. My grandfather's name is a passport to all the courts in
Europe. I have only to utter that name and every door is open to me.
I nit from court to court at my own free will and pleasure, and am
always welcome. I am as much at home in the palaces of Europe as
you are among your relatives. I know every titled person in Europe,
I think. I have my pockets full of invitations all the time. I am
under promise now to go to Italy, where I am to be the guest of a suc-
cession of the noblest houses in the land. In Berlin my life is a
•continued round of gaiety in the Imperial palace. It is the same wher-
ever I go.
H. It must be very pleasant. But it must make Boston seem a little
slow when you are at home.
G. S. Yes, of course it does. But I don't go home much. There's
no life there — little to feed a man's higher nature. Boston's very
narrow, you know. She doesn't know it, and you couldn't convince
her of it ; so 1 say nothing when I'm there : where's the use ? Yes,
Boston is very narrow, but she has such a good opinion of herself that
she can't see it. A man who has travelled as much as I have, and seen
;is much of the world, sees it plain enough, but he can't cure it, you
know, so the best way is to leave it and seek a sphere which is more
in harmony with his tastes and culture. 1 run across there once a
year perhaps, when I have nothing important on hand, but I'm very
soon back again. I spend my time in Europe.
H. I see. You map out your plans and
G. S. No, excuse me. I don't map out any plans. I simply follow
the inclination of the day. I am limited by no ties, no requirements;
I am not bound in any way. I am too old a traveller to hamper
myself with deliberate purposes. I am simply a traveller — an inveterate
traveller — a man of the world, in a word — I can call myself by no
other name. I do not say, ' I am going here, or I am going there ; ' I
say nothing at all, I only act. For instance, next week you may find
me the guest of a grandee of Spain, or you may find me off fur Venice,
or flitting toward Dresden. I shall probably go to Egypt presently ;
friends will say to friends, ' He is at the Nile cataracts ; ' and at that
DD 2
404
A TRAMP ABROAD.
very moment they will be surprised to learn that I'm away off yonder
in India somewhere. I am a constant surprise to people. They are
always saying, ' Yes, he was in Jerusalem when we heard of him last,
but goodness knows where he is now.'
Presently the Grandson rose to leave — discovered he had an appoint-
ment with some Emperor, perhaps. He did his graces over again :
gripped me with one talon, at arm's length, pressed his hat against his
stomach with the other, bent his body in the middle three times, mur-
muring —
'Pleasure, 'm sure; great pleasure, 'm sure. Wish you much
success.'
Then he removed his gracious presence. It is a great and solemn,
thing to have a grandfather.
I have not purposed to misrepresent this boy in any way, for what
little indignation he excited in me soon passed and left nothing behind
it but compassion. One cannot keep up a grudge against a vacuum. I
have tried to repeat the lad's very words ; if I have failed anywhere,
I have at least not failed to reproduce
the marrow and meaning of what he
said. He and the innocent chatterbox
whom I met on the Swiss lake are
the most unique and interesting spe-
cimens of Young America I came
across during my foreign tramping.
I have made honest portraits of them,
not caricatures. The grandson of
twenty-three referred to himself five
or six times as an i old traveller,' and
as many as three times (with a serene
complacency which was maddening)
as a l man of the world.' There was
something very delicious about his
leaving Boston to her ' narrowness,' unreproved and uninstructed.
I formed the caravan in marching order presently, and after riding
down the line to see that it was properly roped together, gave the com-
mand to proceed. In a little while the road carried us to open, grassy
land. We were above the troublesome forest now, and had an'unm-
OCCASIONALLY MET WITH.
A Til AMP ABROAD. 405
terrupted view, straight before us, of our summit — the summit of the
"RifFelberg.
We followed the mule road, a zigzag course, now to the right,
now to the left, but always up, and always crowded and incommoded
by going and coming files of reckless tourists who were never, in a
single instance, tied together. I was obliged to exert the utmost care
and caution, for in many places the road was not two yards wide, and
often the lower side of it sloped away in slanting precipices eight and
even nine feet deep. I had to encourage the men constantly, to keep
them from giving way to their unmanly fears.
We might have made the summit before night but for a delay
caused by the loss of an umbrella. I was for allowing the umbrella to
remain lost, but the men murmured, and with reason, for in this exposed
region we stood in peculiar need of protection against avalanches; so I
went into camp and detached a strong party to go alter the missing
-article.
The difficulties of the next morning were severe, but our courage
was high, for our goal was near. At noon we conquered the last im-
pediment — we stood at last upon the summit — and without the loss
•of a single man, except the mule that ate the glycerine. Our great
.achievement was achieved — the possibility of the impossible was demon-
strated, and Harris and I walked proudly into the great dining-room
of the RifFelberg Hotel and stood our alpenstocks up in the corner.
Yes, I had made the grand ascent ; but it was a mistake to do it in
evening dress. The plug hats were battered, the swallow-tails were
fluttering rags, mud added no grace, the general effect was unpleasant
.and even disreputable.
There were about seventy-five tourists at the hotel — mainly ladies
•and little children — and they gave us an admiring welcome which paid
us for all our privations and sufferings. The ascent had been made,
-and the names and dates now stand recorded on a stone monument there
to prove it to all future tourists.
I boiled a thermometer and took an altitude, with a most curious
result : the summit was not as high as the point on the mountain side
where I had taken the first altitude. Suspecting that I had made an
important discovery, I prepared to verify it. There happened to be a
still higher summit (called the Gorner Grat) above the hotel, and
40G
A TRAMP ABIIUAD.
notwithstanding the fact that it overlooks a glacier from a dizzy height^
and that the ascent is dif-
ficult and dangerous, I re-
solved to venture up there-
and boil a thermometer.
So I sent a strong party,,
with some borrowed hoes,.
f if/} in charge of two chiefs of
service, to dig a stairway in
the soil all the way, and
this I ascended, roped to
the guides. This breezy
height was the summit pro-
per — so I accomplished
even more than I had
originally purposed to do*
This foolhardy exploit is-
recorded on another stone
monument.
I boiled my thermo-
meter, and sure enough this spot, which purported to be 2,000 feet,
higher than the locality of the hotel, turned out to be 9,000 feet lower.
Thus the fact was clearly demonstrated that, above a certain point t
the higher a point seems to be, the lower it actually is. Our ascent
itself was a great achievement, but this contribution to science was an
inconceivably greater matter.
Cavillers object that water boils at a lower and lower temperature
the higher and higher you go, and hence the apparent anomaly. I
answer that I do not base my theory upon what the boiling water does,,
but upon whet a boiled thermometer says. You can't go behind the-
thermometer.
I had a magnificent view of Monte Eosa, and apparently all the-
rest or the Alpine world, from that high place. All the circling
horizon was piled high with a mighty tumult of snowy crests. One-
might have imagined he saw before him the tented camps of a belea-
guering host of Brobdingnagians.
But lonely, conspicuous, and superb rose that wonderful upright
SUMMIT OF THE GORNER GEAT.
A TRAMP ABROAD.
40T
wedge, the Matterhorn. -Its precipitous sides were powdered over with
snow, and the upper half hidden in thick clouds which now and then
CHIEFS OF THE ADVANCE GUARD.
dissolved to cobweb films and gave brief glimpses of the imposing
tower as through a veil. A little later the Matterhorn l took to him-
self the semblance of a volcano ; he was stripped naked to his apex —
around this circled vast wreaths of white cloud which strung slowly oat
1 Note. — I had the very unusual luck to catch one little momentary glimpse
of the Matterhorn wholly unencumbered by clouds. I levelled my photographic
apparatus at it without the loss of an instant, and should have got an elegant
picture if my donkey had not interfered. It was my purpose to draw this pho-
tograph all by myself for my book, but I was obliged to put the mountain part of it
into the hands of the professional artist because I found I could not do landscape
well.
408
A TRAMP ABROAD.
and streamed away slantwise toward the sun, a twenty-mile stretch of
rolling and tumbling vapour, and looking just as if it were pouring
out of a crater. Later again, one of the mountain's sides was clean
and clear, and another side densely clothed from base to summit in
thick sni(ke-like cloud which leathered off and blew around the shaft's
sharp edge like the smoke around the corners of a burning building.
The Matterhom is always experimenting, and always gets up fine effects
MY PICTURE OP THE MATTERHORN.
too. In the sunset, when all the lower world is palled in gloom, it
points toward heaven out of the pervading blackness like a finger of
fire. In the sunrise — well, they say it is very fine in the sunrise.
Authorities agree that there is no such tremendous 'lay out 7 of
snowy Alpine magnitude, grandeur, and sublimity to be seen from any
other accessible point as the tourist may see from the summit of the
Kiffelberg. Therefore let the tourist rope himself up and go there,
A TRAMP ABROAD. 400
for I have shown that with nerve, caution, and judgment the thing can
be done.
I wish to add one remark here — in parentheses, so to speak — sug-
gested by the word ' snowy,' which I have just used. We have all
seen hills and mountains and levels with snow on them, and so we
think we know all the aspects and effects produced by snow. But
indeed we do not, until we have seen the Alps. Possibly mass and
distance add something — at any rate something is added. Among
other noticeable things, there is a dazzling, intense whiteness about the
distant Alpine snow when the sun is on it, which one recognises as
peculiar, and not familiar to the eye. The snow which one is accus-
tomed to has a tint to it — painters usually give it a bluish cast — but
there is no perceptible tint to the distant Alpine snow when it is trying
to look its whitest. As to the unimaginable splendour of it when the
sun is blazing down on it — well, it simply is unimaginable.
410 A TRAMP ABROAD,
CHAPTER XXXIX.
A guide-book is a queer thing. The reader has just seen what a man
who undertakes the great ascent from Zermatt to the Riffelberg
Hotel must experience. Yet Baedeker makes these strange state-
ments concerning this matter : —
1. Distance — three hours.
2. The road cannot be mistaken.
3. Guide unnecessary.
4. Distance from Riffelberg Hotel to the Gorner Grat, one hour
and a half.
5. Ascent simple and easy. Guide unnecessary.
6. Elevation of Zermatt above sea level, 5,315 feet.
7. Elevation of Riffelberg Hotel above sea level, 8,429 feet.
8. Elevation of the Gorner Grat above sea level, 10,289 feet.
I have pretty effectually throttled these errors by sending him
the following demonstrated facts : —
1. Distance from Zermatt to Riffelberg Hotel, seven days.
2. The road can be mistaken. If I am the first that did it, I want
the credit of it too.
3. Guides are necessary, for none but a native can read those
finger-boards.
4. The estimate of the elevation of the several localities above
sea level is pretty correct — for Baedeker. He only misses it about a
hundred and eighty or ninety thousand feet.
I found my arnica invaluable. My men were suffering excruciat-
ingly, from the friction of sitting down so much. During two or three
days not one of them was able to do more than lie down or walk
about ; yet so effective was the arnica, that on the fourth all were able
A TRAMP ABROAD. 411
to sit up. I consider that, more than to anything else, I owe the
success of our great undertaking to arnica and paregoric.
My men being restored to health and strength, my main perplexity
now was how to get them down the mountain again. I was not willing
to expose the brave fellows to the perils, fatigues, and hardships of that
fearful route again if it could be helped. First I thought of balloons \
but of course I had to give that idea up, for balloons were not pro-
curable. I thought of several other expedients, but upon considera-
tion discarded them for cause. But at last I hit it. I was aware
that the movement of glaciers is an established fact, for I had read it
in Baedeker; so I resolved to take passage for Zermatt on the great
Gorner Glacier.
Very good. The next thing was, how to get down to the glacier
comfortably — for the mule-road to it was long, and winding, and weari-
some. I set my mind at work, and soon thought out a plan. One-
looks straight down upon the vast frozen river called the Gorner
Glacier from the Gorner Grat — a sheer precipice 1,200 feet high.
We had 154 umbrellas — and what is an umbrella but a parachute ?
I mentioned this noble idea to Harris with enthusiasm, and was
about to order the expedition to form on the Gorner Grat, with their
umbrellas, and prepare for flight by platoons, each platoon in command
of a guide, when Harris stopped me and urged me not to be too
hasty. He asked me if this method of descending the Alps had ever
been tried before. I said, 'No, I had not heard of an instance.' Then,
in his opinion, it was a matter of considerable gravity ; in his opinion
it would not be well to send the whole command over the cliff at
once ; a better way would be to send down a single individual first, and
see how he fared.
I saw the wisdom of this idea instantly. I said as much, and-
thanked my agent cordially, and told him to take his umbrella and
try the thing right away, and wave his hat when he got down, if he-
struck in a soft place, and then I would ship the rest right along.
Harris was greatly touched with this mark of confidence, and saidi
so in a voice that had a perceptible tremble in it ; but at the same time
he said he did not feel himself worthy of so conspicuous a favour ;
that it might cause jealousy in the command, for there were plenty who
would not hesitate to say he had used underhand means to get the?
412 A TRAMP ABROAD.
appointment, whereas his conscience would bear him witness that he
had not sought it at all, nor even, in his secret heart, desired it.
I said these words did him extreme credit, but that he must not
throw away the imperishable distinction of being the first man to
descend an Alp per parachute, simply to save the feelings of some
envious underlings. No, I said, he must accept the appointment —
it was no longer an invitation, it was a command.
He thanked me with effusion, and said that putting the thing
in this form removed every objection. He retired, and soon returned
■with his umbrella, his eyes flaming with gratitude and his cheeks pallid
with joy. Just then the head guide passed along. Harris's expression
changed to one of infinite tenderness, and he said —
' That man did me a cruel injury four days ago, and I said in my
heart he should live to perceive and confess that the only noble revenge
a man can take upon his enemy is to return good for evil. I resign in
his favour. Appoint him.'
I threw my arms around the generous fellow and said —
' Harris, you are the noblest soul that lives. You shall not regret
this sublime act, neither shall the world fail to know of it. You shall
have opportunities far transcending this one, too, if I live — remember
that.'
I called the head guide to me and appointed him on the spot. But
the thing aroused no enthusiasm in him. He did not take to the idea
at all. He said —
' l-ae myself to an umbrella and jump over the Gorner Grat;
excuse • me, there are a great many pleasanter roads to the devil than
that.' \
Upovi a discussion of the subject with him, it appeared that he
considere\i the project distinctly and decidedly dangerous. I was not
convinced,\ yet I was not willing to try the experiment in any risky
way — that fcs, in a way that might cripple the strength and efficiency
of the Expedition. I was about at my wits' end when it occurred to
•me to try it om the Latinist.
He was calie.d in. But he declined, on the plea of inexperience,
diffidence in public, lack of curiosity, and I don't know what all.
Another man declined on account of a cold in the head ; thought
he ought to avoid Exposure. Another could not jump well — never
\
A TliAMP ABROAD.
41*
could jump well — did not believe he could jump so far without
long and patient practice. Another was afraid it was going to rain..
and his umbrella had a hole in it. Everybody had an excuse. The
result was what the reader has by this time guessed : the most
magnificent idea that was ever conceived had to be abandoned from.
sheer lack of a \
person with
enterprise
enough to carry
it out. Yes, I
actually had to
give that thing
up — whilst,
doubtless, I
should live to
see somebody
took up
because
use it, and take
all the credit
from me.
Well, I had
to go overland
— there was no
other way. I
marched the
Expedition
down the steep
and tedious
mule-path, and
as good a position as I could upon the middle of the glacier,
Baedeker said the middle part travels the fastest. As a measure
EVERYBODY HAD AN EXCUSE.
414 A TRAMP ABROAD.
of economy, however, I put some of the heavier baggage on the
shoreward parts, to go as slow freight.
I waited and waited, but the glacier did not move. Night was
coming on, the darkness began to gather — still we did not budge. It
occurred to me then that there might be a time-table in Baedeker, it
would be well to find out the hours of starting. I called for the
book — it could not be found. Bradshaw would certainly contain a
time-table, but no Bradshaw could be found.
Very well, I must make the best of the situation. So I pitched
the tents, picketed the animals, milked the cows, had supper,
paregoricked the men, established the watch, and went to bed — with
orders to call me as soon as we came in sight of Zermatt.
I awoke about half -past ten next morning and looked around. We
hadn't budged a peg ! At first I could not understand it : then it
occurred to me that the old thing must be aground. So I cut down
some trees and rigged a spar on the starboard and another on the
port side, and fooled away upwards of three hours trying to spar her
off. But it was no use, she was half a mile wide and fifteen or
twenty miles long, and there was no telling just whereabouts she
was aground. The men began to show uneasiness too, and presently
they came flying to me with ashy faces, saying she had sprung a leak.
Nothing but my cool behaviour at this critical time saved us from
another panic. I ordered them to show me the place. They led
me to a spot where a huge boulder lay in a deep pool of clear and
brilliant water. It did look like a pretty bad leak, but I kept that to
myself. I made a pump and set the men to work to pump out the
glacier. We made a success of it. I perceived then that it w r as not
a leak at all. This boulder had descended from a precipice and
stopped on the ice in the middle of the glacier, and the sun had
warmed it up every day, and consequently it had melted its way
deeper and deeper into the ice, until at last it reposed, as we had found
it, in a deep pool of the clearest and coldest water.
Presently Baedeker was found again, and I hunted eagerly for the
time-table. There was none. The book simply said the glacier was
moving all the time. This was satisfactory, so I shut up the book and
chose a good position to view the scenery as we passed along. I stood
there some time enjoying the trip, but at last it occurred to me that we
A TRAMP ABROAD.
415
did not seem to be gaining any on the scenery. I said to myself,
* This confounded old thing's aground again, sure' — and opened
Baedeker to see if I could run across any remedy for these annoying
interruptions. I soon found a sentence which threw a dazzling light
>PRUNG A LEAK.
upon the matter. It said, ' The Gorner Glacier travels at an average
rate of a little less than an inch a day.' I have seldom felt so
outraged. I have seldom had my confidence so wantonly betrayed. 1
made a small calculation : 1 inch a day, say 30 feet a year ; estimated
416 A TRAMP ABROAD.
distance to Zermatt, 3 1-18 miles. Time required to go by glacier,.
a little over jive hundred years ! I said to myself, ' I can walk it-
quicker, and before I will patronise such a fraud as this, I will do it.'
When I revealed to Harris the fact that the passenger-part of thi^
glacier — the central part — the lightning-express part, so to speak —
was not due in Zermatt till the summer of 2,378, and that the-
baggage, coming along the slow edge, would not arrive until some-
generations later, he burst out with —
' That is European management all over ! An inch a day — think
of that ! Five hundred years to go a trifle over three miles ! But
I am not a bit surprised. It's a Catholic glacier. You can tell by
the look of it. And the management ! '
I said no, I believed nothing but the extreme end of it was in a.
Catholic canton.
* Well, then, it's a Government glacier,' said Harris. ' It's all the
same. Over here the Government runs everything— so everything's-
slow ; slow and ill-managed. But with us, everything's done by
private enterprise, and then there ain't much lolling around, you can
depend on it. I wish Tom Scott could get his hands on this torpid
old slab once — you'd see it take a different gait from this.'
I said I was sure he would increase the speed, if there was trade
enough to justify it.
1 He'd make trade,' said Harris. ' That's the difference between
Governments and individuals. Governments don't care, individuals-
do. Tom Scott would take all the trade ; in two years Gorner stock
would go to 200, and inside of two more you would see all the other
glaciers under the hammer for taxes.' After a reflective pause, Harris
added, ' A little less than an inch a day ; a little less than an inch, mind
you. Well, I am losing my reverence for glaciers.'
I was feeling much the same way myself. I have travelled by canal
boat, ox- waggon, raft, and by the Ephesus and Smyrna railway, but
when it comes down to good solid honest slow motion, I bet my
money on the glacier. As a means of passenger transportation I
consider the glacier a failure ; but as a vehicle for slow freight, I think
she fills the bill. In the matter of putting the fine shades on that line
of business, I judge she could teach the Germans something.
I ordered the men to break camp and prepare for the land journey
A TRAMP ABROAD.
417
to Zermatt. At this moment a most interesting find was made; a
dark object, bedded in the glacial ice, was cut out with the ice-axes,
and it proved to be a piece of the undressed skin of some animal — a
hair trunk, perhaps ; but a close inspection disabled the hair trunk
theory, and further discussion and examination exploded it entirely
— that is, in the opinion of all the scientists except the one who had
advanced it. This one clung to his theory with the affectionate fidelity
characteristic of originators of scientific theories, and afterwards won
many of the first scientists of the age to his view, by a very able
pamphlet which he wrote, entitled, 'Evidences going to show that the
hair trunk, in a wild state, belonged to the early glacial period, and
roamed the wastes of chaos in company with the cave bear, primeval
man, and the other Oolitics of the Old Silurian fnmily.'
Each of our scientists had ;i
theory of his own, and put for-
ward an animal of his own as a
candidate for the skin. I sided
with the geologist of the Expedi-
tion in the belief that this patch
of skin had once helped to cover
a Siberian elephant in some old
forgotten age — but we divided
there, the geologist believing
that this discovery proved that
Siberia had formerly been
located where Switzerland is
now, whereas I held the opinion
that it merely proved that the
primeval Swiss was not the dull
savage he is represented to have
been, but was a being of high
intellectual development, who
liked to go to the menagerie.
We arrived that evening,
after many hardships and
adventures, in some fields close A scientific question.
to the great ice-arch where the mad Visp boils and surges out from
£ £
418 .1 TRAMP ABROAD.
under the foot of the great Gorner Glacier, and here we camped,
our perils over, and our magnificent undertaking successfully com-
pleted. We marched into Zermatt the next day, and were received
with the most lavish honours and applause. A document, signed
and sealed by all the authorities, was given to me which established
and endorsed the fact that I had made the ascent of the RifFelberg.
This I wear around my neck, and it will be buried with me when
[ am no more,
A TRAMP ABROAD. 419
CHAPTER XL.
I am not so ignorant about glacial movement now as I was when I took
passage on the Gorner Glacier. I have ' read up ' since. I am aware
that these vast bodies of ice do not travel at the same rate of speed ;
whilst the Gorner Glacier makes less than an inch a day, the Unter-
Aar Glacier makes as much as eight ; and still other glaciers are said
to go 12, 16, and even 20 inches a day. One writer says that the
slowest glacier travels 25 feet a year, and the fastest 400.
What is a glacier ? It is easy to say it looks like a frozen river
which occupies the bed of a winding gorge or gully between mountains.
But that gives no notion of its vastness, for it is sometimes 600 feet
thick, and we are not accustomed to rivers 600 feet deep ; no, our
rivers are 6 feet, 20 feet, and sometimes 50 feet deep ; we are not quite
able to grasp so large a fact as an ice-river 600 feet deep.
The glacier's surface is not smooth and level, but has deep swales
and swelling elevations, and sometimes has the look of a tossing sea
whose turbulent billows were frozen hard in the instant of their most
violent motion ; the glacier's surface is not a flawless mass, but is a
river with cracks or crevasses, some narrow, some gaping wide. Many
a man, the victim of a slip or a mis-step, has plunged down one of
these and met his death. Men have been fished out of them alive, but
it was when they did not go to a great depth ; the cold of the great
depths would quickly stupefy a man, whether he was hurt or unhurt.
These cracks do not go straight down ; one can seldom see more than
20 to 40 feet down them ; consequently men who have disappeared
in them have been sought for, in the hope that they had stopped within
helping distance, whereas their case, in most instances, had really been
hopeless from the beginning.
In 1864 a party of tourists was descending Mont Blanc, and while
E e 2
420 A TRAMP ABROAD.
picking their way over one of the mighty glaciers of that lofty region T
roped together, as was proper, a young porter disengaged himself from
the line, and started across an ice-bridge which spanned a crevasse.
It broke under him with a crash and he disappeared. The others
could not see how deep he had gone, so it might be worth while to
try and rescue him. A brave young guide named Michel Payot volun-
teered.
Two ropes were made fast to his leather belt, and he bore the end
of the third one in his hand to tie to the victim in case he found him.
He was lowered into the crevasse, he descended deeper and deeper
between the clear blue walls of solid ice, he approached a bend in the
crack and disappeared under it. Down, and still down, he went into
this profound grave; when he had reached a depth of 80 feet he passed
under another bend in the crack, and thence descended 80 feet lower,.
as between perpendicular precipices. Arrived at this stage of 160'
feet below the surface of the glacier, he peered through the twiligL':
dimness and perceived that the chasm took another turn and stretched
away at a steep slant to unknown deeps, for its course was lost in
darkness. What a place that was to be in — especially i£ that leather
belt should break ! The compression of the belt threatened to suffo-
cate the intrepid fellow ; he called to his friends to draw him up, but
could not make them hear. They still lowered him deeper and deeper.
Then he jerked his third cord as vigorously as he could ; his friends'
understood, and dragged him out of those icy jaws of death.
Then they attached a bottle to a cord and sent it down 200 feet^
but it found no bottom. It came up covered with congelations —
evidence enough that even if the poor porter reached the bottom with
unbroken bones, a swift death from cold was sure anyway.
A glacier is a stupendous, ever progressing, resistless plough. It
pushes ahead of it masses of boulders which are packed together, and
they stretch across the gorge, right in front of it, like a long grave or
a long, sharp roof. This is called a moraine. It also shoves out a
moraine along each side of its course.
Imposing as the modern glaciers are, they are not so huge as were
Rome that once existed. For instance, Mr. Whymper says : —
1 At some very remote period the valley of Aosta was occupied by
a vast glacier, which flowed down its entire length from Mont Blanc to*
A TRAMP ABROAD. 421
the plain of Piedmont, remained stationary, or nearly so, at its mouth
for many centuries, and deposited there enormous masses of debris. The
length of this glacier exceeded eighty miles, and it drained a basin
twenty-five to thirty-five miles across, bounded by the highest moun-
tains in the Alps. The great peaks rose several thousand feet above
the glaciers, and then, as now, shattered by sun and frost, poured down
their showers of rocks and stones, in witness of which there are the
immense piles of angular fragments that constitute the moraines of
Ivria.
' The moraines around Ivria are of extraordinary dimensions. That
which was on the left bank of the glacier is about thirteen miles long,
and in some places rises to a height of two thousand one hundred and
thirty feet above the floor of the valley ! The terminal moraines (those
which are pushed in front of the glaciers) cover something like twenty
square miles of country. At the mouth of the valley of the Aosta
the thickness of the glacier must have been at least two thousand feet,
and its width at that ^rt five miles and a quarter'
It is not easy to get at a comprehension of a mass of ice like that.
If one could cleave off the butt end of such a glacier — an oblong block
two or three miles wide by five and a quarter long and 2,000 feet thick
— he could completely hide the city of New York under it, and Trinity
steeple would only stick up into it relatively as far as a shingle nail
would stick up into the bottom of a Saratoga trunk.
1 The boulders from Mont Blanc, upon the plain below Ivria, assure
us that the glacier which transported them existed for a prodigious
length of time. Their present distance from the cliffs from which they
were derived is about 420,000 feet, and if we assume that they travelled
at the rate of 400 feet per annum, their journey must have occupied
them no less than 1,055 years ! In all probability they did not travel
so fast.'
Glaciers are sometimes hurried out of their characteristic snail-
pace. A marvellous spectacle is presented then. Mr. Whymper
refers to a case which occurred in Iceland in 1721 : —
'It seems that in the neighbourhood of the mountain Kotlugja,
large bodies of water formed underneath, or within the glaciers (either
on account of the interior heat of the earth or from other causes), and
at length acquired irresistible power, tore the glaciers from their moor-
422 A TRAMP ABROAD.
ing on the land, and swept them over every obstacle into the sea.
Prodigious masses of ice were thus borne for a distance o£ about ten
miles over land in the space of a few hours ; and their bulk was so
enormous, that they covered the sea for seven miles from the shore,
and remained aground in 600 feet of water ! The denudation of the
land was upon a grand scale. All superficial accumulations were swept
away, and the bed-rock was exposed. It was described, in graphic
language, how all irregularities and depressions were obliterated, and
a smooth surface of several miles area laid bare, and that this area had
the appearance of having been planed by a plane.''
The account translated from the Icelandic says that the mountain-
like ruins of this majestic glacier so covered the sea that as far as the
eye could reach no open water was discoverable, even from the highest
peaks. A monster wall or barrier of ipe was built across a consider-
able stretch of land, too, by this strange irruption : —
' One can form some idea of the altitude of this barrier of ice when
it is mentioned that from Hofdabrekka farm, which lies high up on
a fjeld, one could not see Hjorleifshofdi opposite, which is a fell 640
feet in height ; but in order to do so had to clamber up a mountain
slope east of Hofdabrekka 1,200 feet high.'
These things will help the reader to understand why it is that a
man who keeps company with glaciers comes to feel tolerably insignifi-
cant by and by. The Alps and the glaciers together are able to take
every bit of conceit out of a man and reduce his self-importance to
zero if he will only remain within the influence of their sublime pre-
sence long enough to give it a fair and reasonable chance to do its
work.
The Alpine glaciers move — that is granted now by everybody.
But there was a time when people scoffed at the idea ; they said you
might as well expect leagues of solid rock to crawl along the ground as
expect solid leagues of ice to do it. But proof after proof was furnished,
and finally the world had to believe.
The wise men not only said the glacier moved, but they timed its
movement. They ciphered out a glacier's gait, and then said confi-
dently that it would travel just so far in so many years. There is re-
cord of a striking and curious example of the accuracy which may be
attained in these reckonings.
A TRAMP ABROAD. 423
In 1820 the ascent of Mont Blanc was attempted by a Kussian and
two Englishmen, with seven guides. They had reached a prodigious
altitude, and were approaching the summit, when an avalanche swept
several of the party down a sharp slope of two hundred feet and hurled
five of them (all guides) into one of the crevasses of a glacier. The
life of one of the five was saved by a long barometer which was strapped
to his back — it bridged the crevasse and suspended him until help
came. The alpenstock or baton of another saved its owner in a similar
way. Three men were lost — Pierre Balmat, Pierre Carrier, and
Auguste Tairraz. They had been hurled down into the fathomless great
deeps of the crevasse.
Dr. Forbes, the English geologist, had made frequent visits to the
Mont Blanc region, and had given much attention to the disputed ques-
tion of the movement of glaciers. During one of these visits he com-
pleted his estimates of the rate of movement o£ the glacier which had
swallowed up the three guides, and uttered the prediction that the
glacier would deliver up its dead at the foot of the mountain thirty-five
years from the time of the accident, or possibly forty.
A dull, slow journey — a movement imperceptible to any eye — but
it was proceeding, nevertheless, and without cessation. It was a journey
which a rolling stone would make in a few seconds — the lofty point of
departure was visible from the village below in the valley.
The prediction cut curiously close to the truth ; forty-one years
after the catastrophe the remains were cast forth at the foot of the
glacier.
I find an interesting account of the matter in the ' Histoire du Mont
31anc,' by Stephen d'Arve. I will condense this account as follows: —
' On the 12th of August, 1861, at the hour of the close of mass,
a guide arrived out of breath at the mairie of Chamonix, and bearing
on his shoulders a very lugubrious burden. It was a sack filled with
human remains which he had gathered from the orifice of a crevasse
in the Glacier des Bossons. He conjectured that these were remains
of the victims of the catastrophe of 1820, and a minute inquest,
immediately instituted by the local authorities, soon demonstrated the
correctness of his supposition. The contents of the sack were spread
upon a long table, and officially inventoried as follows : —
' Portions of three human skulls. Several tufts of black and blonde
i2i
A TRAMP ABROAD.
hair. A human jaw, furnished with fine white teeth. A fore-arm and
hand, all the fingers of the latter intact. The flesh was white and
fresh, and both the arm and hand preserved a degree of flexibility in
the articulations.
1 The ring finger had suffered a slight abrasion, and the stain of the
blood was still visible and unchanged after forty-one years. A left
foot, the flesh white and fresh.
1 Along with these fragments were portions of waistcoats, hats, hob-
nailed shoes, and other clothing ; a wing of a pigeon, with black
UNEXPECTED MEETING OF FRIENDS.
feathers; a fragment of an alpenstock; a tin lantern; and lastly, a
boiled leg of mutton, the only flesh among all the remains that exhaled
an unpleasant odour. The guide said that the mutton had no odour
when he took it from the glacier ; an hour's exposure to the sun had
already begun the work of decomposition upon it.
'Persons were called for to identify these poor pathetic relics, and a
touching scene ensued. Two men were still living who had witnessed
the grim catastrophe of nearly half a century before — Marie Couttet
(saved by his baton) and Julien Davouassoux (saved by the barometer).
A TRAMP ABROAD. 425
These aged men entered and approached the table. Davonassoux,
more than 80 years old, contemplated the mournful remains mutely
and with a vacant eye, for his intelligence and his memory were torpid
with age ; but Couttet's faculties were still perfect at seventy-two, and
he exhibited strong emotion. He said —
1 " Pierre Balmat was fair ; he wore a straw hat. This bit of skull,
with the tuft of blonde hair, was his ; this is his hat. Pierre Carrier
was very dark ; this skull was his, and this felt hat. This is Balmat's
hand, I remember it so well I " and the old man bent down and kissed
it reverently, then closed his fingers upon it in an affectionate grasp,
crying out, " I could never have dared to believe that before quitting
this world it would be granted me to press once more the hand of one
of those brave comrades, the hand of my good friend Balmat."
1 There is something weirdly pathetic about the picture of that
white-haired veteran greeting with his loving hand-shake this friend
who had been dead forty years. When these hands had met last, they
were alike in the softness and freshness of youth ; now, one was
brown, and wrinkled and horny with age, while the other was still as
young, and fair, and blemishless as if those forty years had come and
gone in a single moment, leaving no mark of their passage. Time had
gone on in the one case ; it had stood still in the other. A man who
has not seen a friend for a generation keeps him in mind always as
he saw him last, and is somehow surprised, and is also shocked, to see
the ageing change the years have wrought when he sees him again.
Marie Couttet's experience, in finding his friend's hand unaltered from
the image of it which he had carried in his memory for forty years,
is an experience which stands alone in the history of man, perhaps.
' Couttet identified other relics —
' " This hat belonged to Auguste Tairraz. He carried the cage of
pigeons which we proposed to set free upon the summit. Here is the
wing of one of those pigeons. And here is the fragment of my
broken baton ; it was by grace of that baton that my life was saved.
Who could have told me that I should one day have the satisfaction to
look again upon this bit of wood that supported me above the grave that
swalloAved up my unfortunate companions ! " '
No portions of the body of Tairraz had been found. A diligent
search was made, but without result. However, another search was
426 A TRAMP ABROAD.
instituted a year later, and this had better success. Many fragments
of clothing which had belonged to the lost guides were discovered ; also
part of a lantern, and a green veil, with blood stains on it. But the
interesting feature was this —
One of the searchers came suddenly upon a sleeved arm projecting
from a crevice in the ice-wall, with th^ hand outstretched as if offering
greeting ! ' The nails of this white hand were still rosy, and the pose
of the extended fingers seem to express an eloquent welcome to the
long lost light of day.'
The hand and arm were alone ; there was no trunk. After being
removed from the ice the flesh tints quickly faded out and the rosy nails-
took on the alabaster hue of death. This was the third right hand
found ; therefore all three of the lost men were accounted for beyond
cavil or question.
Dr. Hamel was the Russian gentleman of the party which made
the ascent at the time of the famous disaster. He left Chamonix as
soon as he conveniently could after the descent ; and as he had shown
a chilly indifference about the calamity, and offered neither sympathy
nor assistance to the widows and orphans, he carried with him the
cordial execrations of the whole community. Four months before the
first remains were found, a Chamonix guide named Balmat — a relative
of one of the lost men — was in London, and one day encountered a hale
old gentleman in the British Museum, who said, —
1 1 overheard your name. Are you from Chamonix, Monsieur
Balmat?'
' Yes, sir.'
'Haven't they found the bodies of my three guides yet? I am
Dr. Hamel.'
1 Alas, no, monsieur.'
1 Well, you'll find them sooner or later.'
' Yes, it is the opinion of Dr. Forbes and Mr. Tyndall that the
glacier will sooner or later restore to us the remains of the unfortu-
nate victims.'
' Without a doubt, without a doubt. And it will be a great thing
for Chamonix, in the matter of attracting tourists. You can get up a
museum with those remains that will draw ! '
This savage idea has not improved the odour of Dr. Hamel's name
A TRAMP ABROAD. 42?
in Chamonix by any means. But, after all, the man was sound on
human nature. His idea was conveyed to the public officials of Cha-
monix, and they gravely discussed it around the official council table..
They were only prevented from carrying it into execution by the
determined opposition of the friends and descendants of the lost guides,
who insisted on giving the remains Christian burial, and succeeded in
their purpose.
A close watch had to be kept upon all the poor remnants and
fragments, to prevent embezzlement. A few accessory odds and end^-
were sold. Bags and scraps of the coarse clothing were parted with
at a rate equal to about twenty dollars a yard ; a piece of a lantern and
one or two other trifles brought nearly their weight in gold; and an
Englishman offered a pound sterling for a single breeches-button.
4.23 A TRAMP ABROAD.
CHAPTER XLI.
One of the most memorable of all the Alpine catastrophes was that
of July 1865, on the Matterhorn — already slightly referred to a few
pages back. The details of it are scarcely known in America. To
the vast majority of readers they are not known at all. Mr. Whymper's
account is the only authentic one. I will import the chief portion of
it into this book, partly because of its intrinsic interest, and partly
because it gives such a vivid idea of what the perilous pastime of Alp-
climbing is. This was Mr. Whymper's ninth attempt during a series
of years to vanquish that steep and stubborn pillar of rock ; it
succeeded, the other eight were failures. No man had ever accom-
plished the ascent before, though the attempts had been numerous.
MR. WHYMPER'S NARRATIVE.
We started from Zermatt on July 13, at half-past five, on a
brilliant and perfectly cloudless morning. We were eight in number
— Croz (guide), old Peter Taugwalder (guide), and his two sons;
Lord F. Douglas, Mr. Hadow, Rev. Mr. Hudson, and I. To ensure
steady motion, one tourist and one native walked together. The
youngest Taugwalder fell to my share. The wine-bags also fell to
my lot to carry, and throughout the day after each drink I replenished
them secretly with water, so that at the next halt they were found
fuller than before ! This was considered a good omen, and little short
of miraculous.
On the first day we did not intend to ascend to any great height,
and we mounted accordingly very leisurely. Before twelve o'clock we
had found a good position for the tent at a height of 11,000 feet. We
•passed the remaining hours of daylight — some basking in the sun-
A TRAMP ABROAD. 42?
♦dime, some sketching, some collecting; Hudson made tea, I coffee,
and at length we retired, each one to his blanket -hag.
"We assembled together before dawn on the 14th and started directly
it was light enough to move. One of the young Taugwalders returned
to Zermatt. In a few minutes we turned the rib which had inter-
cepted the view of the eastern face from our tent platform. The
whole of this great slope was now revealed, rising for 3,000 feet like a
huge natural staircase. Some parts were more, and others were les-
easy, but we were not once brought to rv halt by any serious impedi-
ment, for when an obstruction was met in front it could always be
turned to the right or to the left. For the greater part of the way
there was no occasion, indeed, lor the rope, and sometimes Hudson
led, sometimes myself. At 6.20 we had attained a height of 12,800
feet, and halted for half an hour ; we then continued the ascent with-
out a break until 9.55, when we stopped for fifty minutes, at a height
of 14,000 feet.
We had now arrived at the foot of that part which, seen from the
Riffelberg. seems perpendicular or overhanging. We could no longer
continue on the eastern side. For a little distance we ascended by
snow upon the arete — that is, the ridge — then turned over to the right,
or northern side. The work became difficult, and required caution.
In some places there was little to hold ; the general slope of the
mountain was less than 40°, and snow had accumulated in, and had
filled up, the interstices of the rock-face, leaving only occasional
fragments projecting here and there. These were at times covered
with a thin film of ice. It was a place which any fair mountaineer
might pass in safety. We bore away nearly horizontally for about
400 feet, then ascended directly towards the summit for about 60
feet, then doubled back to the ridge which descends towards Zermatt.
A long, stride round a rather awkward corner brought us to snow
once more. The last doubt vanished ! The Matterhorn was ours !
Nothing but 200 feet of easy snow remained to be surmounted.
The higher we rose, the more intense became the excitement. The
slope eased off, at length we could be detached, and Croz and I, dashing
away, ran a neck-and-neck race, which ended in a dead heat. At 1.40
p.m. the world was at our feet, and the Matterhorn was conquered.
The others arrived. Croz now took the tent-pole and planted it in
430 A TRAMP ABROAD.
the highest snow. - Yes,' we said, ' there is the flag- staff, but where
is the flag ? ' * Here it is,' he answered, pulling off his blouse and fixing
it to the stick. It made a poor flag, and there was no wind to float it
■out, yet it was seen all around. They saw it at Zermatt — at the
Riffel — in the Val Tournanche.
*******
We remained on the summit for one hour —
One crowded hour of glorious life.
It passed away too quickly, and we began to prepare for the
■descent.
Hudson and I consulted as to the best and safest arrangement of the
party. We agreed that it was best for Croz to go first, and Hadow
second ; Hudson, who was almost equal to a guide in sureness of
foot, wished to be third ; Lord Douglas was placed next, and old Peter,
the strongest of the remainder, after him. I suggested to Hudson that
we should attach a rope to the rocks on our arrival at the difficult bit,
and hold it as we descended, as an additional protection. He approved
the idea, but it was not definitely decided that it should be done.
The party was being arranged in the above order whilst I was sketch-
ing the summit, and they had finished and were waiting for me to be
tied in line, when some one remembered that our names had not been
left in a bottle. They requested me to write them down, and moved
off while it was being done.
A few minutes afterwards I tied myself to young Peter, ran down
after the others, and caught them just as they were commencing the
descent of the difficult part. Great care was being taken. Only one
man was moving at a time ; when he was firmly planted the next
advanced, and so on. They had not, however, attached the additional
rope to rocks, and nothing was said about it. The suggestion was
not made for my own sake, and I am not sure that it even occurred to
me again. For some little distance we two followed the others,
detached from them, and should have continued so had not Lord
Douglas asked me, about 3 p.m., to tie on to old Peter, as he feared,
he said, that Taugwalder would not be able to hold his ground if
a slip occurred.
A few minutes later a sharp-eyed lad ran into the Monte Rosa
Hotel at Zermatt, saying that he had seen an avalanche fall from the
A TRAMP ABROAD. 431
summit of the Matterhorn on to the Matterhorn glacier. The boy was
reproved for telling idle stories ; he was right, nevertheless, and this
was what he saw.
Michel Croz had laid aside his axe, and in order to give Mr. Hadow
greater security was absolutely taking hold of his legs, and putting
his feet, one by one, into their proper positions. As far as I know, no
one was actually descending. I cannot speak with certainty, because
the two leading men were partially hidden from my sight by an
intervening mass of rock, but it is my belief, from the movements of
their shoulders, that Croz, having done as I have said, was in the act
of turning round to go down a step or two himself; at this moment
Mr. Hadow slipped, fell against him, and knocked him over. I heard
one startled exclamation from Croz, then saw him and Mr. Hadow
flying downwards ; in another moment Hudson was dragged from his
steps, and Lord Douglas immediately after him. All this was the work
of a moment. Immediately we heard Croz's exclamation, old Peter
and I planted ourselves as firmly as the rocks would permit : the rope
was taut between us, and the jerk came on us both as on one man.
We held; but the rope broke midway between Taugwalder and Lord
Francis Douglas. For a few seconds we saw our unfortunate
companions sliding downwards on their backs, and spreading out
their hands, endeavouring to save themselves. They passed from our
sight uninjured, disappeared one by one, and fell from precipice to
precipice on to the Matterhorn glacier below, a distance of nearly
4,000 feet in height. From the moment the rope broke it was
impossible to help them. So perished our comrades !
For more than two hours afterwards I thought almost every moment
that the next would be my last, for the Taugwalders, utterly unnerved,
were not only incapable of giving assistance, but were in such a
state that a slip might have been expected from them at any moment.
After a time we were able to do that which should have been done at
first, and fixed rope to firm rocks, in addition to being tied together.
These ropes were cut from time to time, and were left behind. Even
with their assurance the men were afraid to proceed, and several
times old Peter turned, with ashy face and faltering limbs, and said,
with terrible emphasis, ' I cannot /'
4S2 A TRAMP ABROAD.
About 6 p.m. we arrived at the snow upon the ridge descending
towards Zermatt, and all peril was over. We frequently looked, but
in vain, for traces of our unfortunate companions ; we bent over the
ridge and cried to them, but no sound returned. Convinced at last
that they were neither within sight nor hearing, we ceased from our
useless efforts ; and, too cast down for speech, silently gathered up our
things, and the little effects of those who were lost, and then completed
the descent.
Such is Mr. Whymper's graphic and thrilling narrative. Zermatt
gossip darkly hints that the elder Taugwalder cut the rope when
the accident occurred in order to preserve himself from being dragged
into the abyss ; but Mr. Whymper says that the ends of the rope showed
no evidence of cutting but only of breaking. He adds that if
Taugwalder had had the disposition to cut the rope, he would not have
had time to do it, the accident was so sudden and unexpected.
Lord Douglas's body has never been found. It probably lodged
upon some inaccessible shelf in the face of the mighty precipice. Lord
Douglas was a youth of nineteen. The three other victims fell nearly
4,000 feet, and their bodies lay together upon the glacier when found
by Mr. Whymper and the other searchers the next morning. Their
graves are beside the little church in Zermatt.
ROPED TOGETHEK,
A TRAMP ABROAD. 433
CHAPTER XL11",
Switzerland is simply a large, humpy, solid rock, with a thin skin
of grass stretched over it. Consequently they do not dig graves, they
blast them out with powder and fuse. They cannot afford to have
large graveyards, the grass skin is too circumscribed and too valuable.
It is all required for the support of the living.
The graveyard in Zermatt occupies only about one-eighth of an acre.
The graves are sunk in the living rock, and are very permanent ; but
occupation of them is only temporary; the occupant can only stay
till his grave is needed by a later subject, he is removed then, for they
do not bury one body on top of another. As I understand it, a family
owns a grave just as it owns a house. A man dies and leaves his
house to his son, and at the same time this dead father succeeds to
his own father's grave. He moves out of the house and into the grave,
and his predecessor moves out of the grave and into the cellar of the
chapel. I saw a black box lying in the churchyard, with skull and
cross-bones painted on it, and was told that this was used in transfer-
ring remains to the cellar.
In that cellar the bones and skulls of several hundreds of former
citizens were compactly corded up. They made a pile 18 feet long,
7 feet high, and 8 feet wide. I was told that in some of the receptacles
of this kind in the Swiss villages the skulls were all marked, and if
a man wished to find the skulls of his ancestors for several generations
back, he could do it by these marks, preserved in the family records.
An English gentleman who had lived some years in this region
said it was the cradle of compulsory education. But he said that the
English idea that compulsory education would reduce bastardy and in-
temperance was an error — it has not that effect. He said there was more
seduction in the Protestant than in the Catholic cantons, because the
F F
434
A TRAMP ABROAD.
confessional protected the girls.
women in France and Spain ?
I wonder why it doesn't protect married
This gentleman
said that among the
poorer peasants in the
Valais it was common
for the brothers in a
family to cast lots to
determine which of
them should have the
coveted privilege of
marrying. Then the
lucky one got married,
and his brethren —
doomed bachelors —
heroically banded
themselves together to
help support the new
family.
We left Zermatt
in a waggon — and in a
rain storm, too — for
St. Nicholas about ten
o'clock one morning.
Again we passed be-
tween those grass-clad
prodigious cliffs, specked with wee dwellings peeping over at us from
velvety green walls ten and twelve hundred feet high. It did not
seem possible that the imaginary chamois even could climb those pre-
cipices. Lovers on the opposite cliffs probably kiss through a spy-
glass and correspond with a rifle.
In Switzerland the farmer's plough is a wide shovel, which scrapes
up and tarns over the thin earthy skin of his native rock — and there
the man of the plough is a hero. Now here, by our St. Nicholas road,
was a grave, and it had a tragic story. A ploughman was skinning
his farm one morning — not the steepest part of it, but still a steep part —
that is, he was not skinning the front of his farm, but the rocf of it,
STORAGE OF ANCESTORS.
A Til AMP ABROAD.
485
near the eaveB — when he absent-mindedly let go of the plough-handles
to moisten his hands in the usual way : he lost his balance and fell out
of his farm backwards. Poor
fellow, he never touched any-
thing till he struck bottom
1,500 feet below. 1 We throw a
halo of heroism around the life
of the soldier and the sailor,
because of the deadly dangers
they are facing all the time.
But we are not used to looking
upon farming as an heroic occu-
pation. This is because we
have not lived in Switzerland.
From St. Nicholas we struck
out for Visp — or Vispach — on
foot. The ruin storms had been
at work during several days,
and had done a deal of damage
in Switzerland and Savoy. We
came to one place where a
stream had changed its course
and plunged down the mountain
in a new place, sweeping every-
thing before it. Two poor but
precious farms by the roadside
were ruined. One was washed
clear away, and the bed-rock
exposed; the other was buried
out of sight under a tumbled
chaos of rocks, gravel, mud, and
rubbish. The resistless might
of water was well exemplified.
Some saplings which* had stood
in the way were bent to the ground, stripped clean of their bark, and
buried under rocky debris. The road had been swept away too.
PALLING OUT OF HIS FARM.
This was on a Sunday. -
ff2
-M. T.
436 A TRAMP ABROAD.
In another place, where the road was high up on the mountain'^
face, anu its outside edge protected by flimsy masonry, we frequently
came across spots where this masonry had caved off and left dangerous
gaps for mules to get over ; and with still more frequency we found the
masonry slightly crumbled, and marked by mule hoofs, thus showing
that there had been danger of an accident to somebody. When at last
we came to a badly ruptured bit of masonry, with hoof-prints eviden-
cing a desperate struggle to regain the lost foothold, I looked quite hope-
fully over the dizzy precipice. But there was nobody down there.
They take exceedingly good care of their rivers in Switzerland
and other portions of Europe. They wall up both banks with slanting
solid stone masonry — so that from end to end of these rivers the banks
look like the wharves at St. Louis and other towns on the Mississippi
River.
It was during this walk from St. Nicholas, in the shadow of the
majestic Alps, that we came across some little children amusing them-
selves in what seemed, at first, a most odd and original way — but it
wasn't, it was in simply a natural and characteristic way. They were
roped together with a string, they had mimic alpenstocks and ice-axes,
and were climbing a meek and lowly manure pile with a most blood-
curdling amount of care and caution. The 'guide' at the head of the
line cut imaginary steps in a laborious and painstaking way, and not a
monkey budged till the step above him was vacated. If we had waited
we should have witnessed an imaginary accident, no doubt ; and we
should have heard the intrepid band hurrah when they made the
summit and looked around upon the ' magnificent view,' and seen them
throw themselves down in exhausted attitudes for a rest in that com-
manding situation.
In Nevada I used to see the children play at silver mining. Of
course, the great thing was an accident in a mine, and there were two
* star ' parts : that of the man who fell down the mimic shaft, and that
of the daring hero who was lowered into the depths to bring him up.
I knew one small chap who always insisted on playing both of these
parts — and he carried his point. He would tumble into the shaft and
die, and then come to the surface and go back after his own remains.
It is the smartest boy that gets the hero-part everywhere : he is head
guide in Switzerland, head miner in Nevada, head bull- fighter in Spain,
A TRAMP ABROAD.
48:
<&c, but 1 knew a preacher's son, seven years old, who once selected a
part for himself compared to which
those just mentioned are tame and un-
impressive. Jimmy's father stopped
him from driving imaginary horse-cars
one Sunday — stopped him from playing
captain of ah imaginary steamboat next
Sunday — stopped him from leading
imaginary army to
battle the following
Sunday — and so on.
Finally the little
fellow said —
' I've tried every-
thing, and they won't
any of them do. What
can I play ? '
1 1 hardly know,
Jimmy; butyouwws^
play only things that
are suitable to the
Sabbath day.'
Next Sunday the
preacher stepped soft-
ly to a back room
door to see if the
children were rightly
employed. He peeped
in. A chair occupied
the middle of the room,
and on the back of it
hung Jimmy's cap;
one of the little sisters
■took the cap down,
nibbled at it, then passed it to another small sister and said, i Eat of
t his fruit, for it is good.' The Keverend took in the situation — alas,
£hey were playing the Expulsion from Eden ! Yet he found one little
CHILD-LIFE IN SWITZERLAND.
438
A TRAMP ABROAD.
crumb of comfort. He said to himself, ' For once Jimmy has yielded
the chief role — I have been wronging him, I did not b< lieve there was
so much modesty in him; I should have expected him to be either
Adam or Eve.' This crumb of comfort lasted but a very little while ;
he glanced around and discovered Jimmy standing in an imposing atti-
tude in a corner, with a dark and deadly frown on his face. What
that meant was very plain — he ivas personating the Deity ! Think of
the guileless sublimity of that idea.
SUNDAY PLAY.
We reached Vispach at 8 p.m.. only about seven hours out from
St. Nicholas. So we must have made fully a mile and a half an hour,
and it was all down hill too, and very muddy at that. We stayed all
night at the Hotel du Soleil ; T remember it because the landlady, the
portier, the waitress, and the chambermaid were not separate persons,
but were all contained in one neat and chipper suit of spotless muslin r
and she was the prettiest young creature I saw in all that region. She
was the landlord's daughter. And I remember that the only native
match to her I saw in all Europe was the young daughter of the land-
lord of a village inn in the Black Forest. Why don't more people
in Europe marry and keep hotel ?
A TRAMP ABROAD.
439
Next morning we left with a family of English friends and went
by train to Brevet, and thence by boat across the lake to Ouchy
(Lausanne).
Ouchy is memorable to me, not on account of its beautiful situa-
tion and lovely surroundings — although these would make it stick long
in one's memory — but as the place where I caught the London ' Times '
dropping into humour. It was
not aware of it, though. It did
not do it on purpose. An English
friend called my attention to this
lapse, and cut out the reprehen-
sible paragraph for me. Think of
encountering a grin like this on
the face of that grim journal : —
Erratum. — We are requested by
Reuter's Telegram Company to correct
an erroneous announcement made in
their Brisbane telegram of the 2nd
inst., published in our impression of
the 5th inst., stating that ' Lady
Kennedy had given birth to twins,
the eldest being a son.' The Com-
pany explain that the message they
received contained the words ' Gover-
nor of Queensland, twins Jirst son.'
Being, however, subsequently in-
formed that Sir Arthur Kennedy
was unmarried, and that there must
be some mistake, a telegraphic repe-
tition was at once demanded. It has
been received to-day (11th inst.),
and shows that the words really
telegraphed by Reuter's agent were, ' Governor Queensland turns Jirst sod,'
alluding to the Maryborough-Gympie Railway in course of construction.
The words in italics were mutilated by the telegraph in transmission from
Australia, and reaching the company in the form mentioned above gave rise
to the mistake.
I had always had a deep and reverent compassion for the sufferings
of the 4 prisoner of Chillon/ whose story Byron has told in such
moving verse; so I took the steamer and made pilgrimage to the
THE COMBINATION.
440 A TRAMP ABROAD.
dungeons of the Castle of Chillon, to see the place where poor Bonivard
endured his dreary captivity 300 years ago. I am glad I did that,
for it took away some of the pain I was feeling on the prisoner's
account. His dungeon was a nice, cool, roomy place, and I cannot see
why he should have been so dissatisfied with it. If he had been
imprisoned in a St. Nicholas private dwelling, where the fertilizer
prevails, and the goat sleeps with the guest, and the chickens roost on
him, and the cow comes in and bothers him when he wants to muse,
CHILLOX.
it would have been another matter altogether; but he surely could
not have had a very cheerless time of it in that pretty dungeon. It
has romantic window-slits that let in generous bars of light, and it has
tall, noble columns, carved apparently from the living rock ; and, what
is more, they are written all over with thousands of names, some of
them — like Byron's and Victor Hugo's — of the first celebrity. Why
A TBAMP ABROAD.
441
didn't he amuse
himself reading
these names?
Then there are
the couriers and
tourists — swarms
of them every day
— what was to
hinder him from
having a good
time with them?
1 think Boni-
vard's sufferings
have been over-
rated.
Next, we took
train and went to
Martigny, on the
way to Mont
THE TETB NOIRE.
442 A TRAMP ABROAD.
Blanc. Next morning we started, about eight o'clock, on foot. We
had plenty of company in the way of waggon-loads and mule-loads of
tourists — and dust. This scattering procession of travellers was perhaps
a mile long. The road was up-hill — interminably up-hill — and toler-
ably steep. The weather was blistering hot, and the man or woman
who had to sit on a creeping mule or in a crawling waggon, and broil
in the beating sun, was an object to be pitied. We could dodge
among the bushes, and have the relief of the shade, but those people
could not. They paid for a conveyance, and to get their money's worth
they rode.
We went by the way of the Tete Noire, and after we reached high
ground there was no lack of fine scenery. In one place the road was
tunnelled through a shoulder of the mountain ; from there one looked
down into a gorge with a rushing torrent in it, and on every hand was
a charming view of rocky buttresses and wooded heights. There was
a liberal allowance of pretty waterfalls, too, on the Tete Noire route.
About half an hour before we reached the village of Argentiere a
vast dome of snow, with the sun blazing on it, drifted into view and
framed itself in a strong V-shaped gateway of the mountains, and we
recognised Mont Blanc, the ' monarch of the Alps.' With every step
after that this stately dome rose higher and higher into the blue sky,
and at last seemed to occupy the zenith.
Some of Mont Blanc's neighbours — bare, light-brown, steeple-like
rocks — were very peculiarly shaped. Some were whittled to a sharp
point, and slightly bent at the upper end, like a lady's finger ; one
monster sugar-loaf resembled a bishop's hat : it was too steep to hold
snow on its sides, but had some in the division.
While we were still on very high ground, and before the descent
toward Argentiere began, we looked up toward a neighbouring moun-
tain-top, and saw exquisite prismatic colours playing about some white
clouds which were so delicate as to almost resemble gossamer webs.
The faint pinks and greens were peculiarly beautiful ; none of the
colours were deep, they were the lightest shades. They were bewitch-
ingly commingled. We sat down to study and enjoy this singular
spectacle. The tints remained during several minutes — flitting, chang-
ing, melting into each other; paling almost away for a moment, then
reflushing — a shifting, restless, unstable succession of soft opaline gleams,
A TEA MP ABI70AD.
443
shimmering over that airy film of white cloud, and turning it into a
fabric dainty enough to clothe an angel with.
By and by we perceived what those super-delicate colours, and
their continuous play and movement, reminded us of: it is what one
sees in a soap-bubble that is drifting along, catching changes of tint
from the objects it passes. A soap-bubble is the most beautiful thing,
and the most exquisite, in nature : that lovely phantom fabric in the
sky was suggestive of a soap-bubble split open ard spread out in the
sun. I wonder how much it would take to buy a soap-bubble if there
AX EXQUISITE TIIIXG.
was only one in the world? One could buy a hatful of Koh-i-Noors
with the same money, no doubt.
We made the tramp from Martigny to Argentiere in eight hours.
We beat all the mules and waggons; we didn't usually do that. We
hired a sort of open baggage-waggon for the trip down the valley to
Chamonix, and then devcted an hour to dining. This gave the driver
time to get drunk. He had a friend with him, and this, friend also
had had time to get drunk.
When we drove off, the driver said all the tourists had arrived
and gone by while we were at dinner ; ' but,' said he, impressively,
444
A TRAMP ABROAD.
i be not disturbed by that — remain tranquil — give yourselves no un-
easiness — their dust rises far before us, you shall see it fade and dis-
appear far behind us. Rest you tranquil, leave all to me — I am the
king of drivers. Behold ! '
Down came his whip, and away we clattered. I never had such a
shaking up in my life. The recent flooding rains had washed the
road clear away in places, but we never stopped, we never slowed
down, for anything. We tore right along, over rocks, rubbish, gullies,
open fields — sometimes with one or two wheels on the ground, but
A WILD BIDE.
generally with none. Every now and then that calm, good-natured
madman would bend a majestic look over his shoulder at us and say,
' Ah, you perceive ? It is as I have said — I am the king of drivers.'
Every time we just missed going to destruction he would say, with
tranquil happiness, 'Enjoy it, gentlemen, it is very rare, it is very
unusual — it is given to few to ride with the king of drivers — and
observe it is as I have said, / am he.'
He spoke in French, and punctuated with hiccups. His friend
was French too, but spoke in German — using the same system of
punctuation, however. The friend called himself the ' Captain of Mont
A TRAMP ABROAD.
445
Blanc,' and wanted us to make the ascent with him. He said he had
made more ascents than any other man— forty- seven — and his brother
had made thirty- seven. His brother was the best guide in the world,
except himself — but he, yes, observe him well — he was the ' Captain of
Mont Blanc ' — that title belonged to none other.
The ' king ' was as good as his word — he overtook that long pro-
cession of tourists and went by it like a hurricane. The result was
that we got choicer rooms at the hotel in Chamonix than we should
have done if his majesty had been a slower artist — or, rather, if he
hadn't most providentially got drunk before he left Argentiere.
SWISS PEASANT- GTTIL.
446 A TRAMP ABROAD.
CHAPTER XLIII.
Everybody was out of doors ; everybody was in the principal street
01 the village — not on the side-walks, but all over the street ; every-
body was lounging, loafing, chatting, waiting, alert, expectant, interested
— for it was train-time. That is to say, it was diligence- time — the
hall- dozen big diligences would soon be arriving from Geneva, and the
village was interested, in many ways, in knowing Iioav many people
were coming, and what sort of folk they might be. It was altogether
the livest-looking street we had seen in any village on the Continent.
The hotel was by the side of a booming torrent, whose music was
loud and strong ; we could not see this torrent, for it was dark now,
but one could locate it without a light. There was a large enclosed
yard in front of the hotel, and this was filled with groups of villagers
waiting to see the diligences arrive, or to hire themselves to excursion-
ists for the morrow. A telescope stood in the yard, with its huge
barrel canted up towards the lustrous evening star. The long porch of
the hotel was populous with tourists, who sat in shawls and wraps under
the vast overshadowing bulk of Mont Blanc, and gossiped or meditated.
Never did a mountain seem so close ; its big sides seemed at one's
very elbow, and its majestic dome, and the lofty cluster of slender
minarets that were its neighbours, seemed to be almost over one's
head. It was night in the streets, and the lamps were sparkling every-
where ; the broad bases and shoulders of the mountains were in deep
gloom, but their summits swam in a strange, rich glow which was
really daylight, and yet had a mellow something about it which was
very different from the hard white glare of the kind of daylight I was
used to. Its radiance was strong and clear, but at the same time it was
singularly soft, and spiritual, and benignant. No, it was not our harsh,
aggressive, realistic daylight — it seemed properer to an enchanted land
— or to heaven.
A TRAMP ABROAD. 447
I had seen moonlight and daylight together before, bnt I had not
-seen daylight and black night elbow to elbow before. At least I had
not seen the daylight resting upon an object sufficiently close at hand
before to make the contrast startling and at war with nature.
The daylight passed away. Presently the moon rose up behind
some of those sky- piercing fingers or pinnacles of bare rock of which
I have spoken — they were a little to the left of the crest of Mont Blanc,
and right over our heads — but she couldn't manage to climb high
enough toward heaven to get entirely above them. She would show
the glittering arch of her upper third occasionally, and scrape it along
behind the comb-like row ; sometimes a pinnacle stood straight up, like
a statuette of ebony, against that glittering white shield, then seemed
to glide out of it by its own volition and power, and become a dim
spectre, whilst the next pinnacle glided into its place and blotted the
spotless disk with the black exclamation point of its presence. The
top of one pinnacle took the shapely, clean-cut lorm of a rabbit's head,
in the inkiest silhouette, while it rested against the moon. The un-
illumined peaks and minarets, hovering vague and phantom-like above
us while the others were painfully white and strong with snow and
moonlight, made a peculiar effect.
But when the moon, having passed the line of pinnacles, was hidden
behind the stupendous white swell of Mont Blanc, the masterpiece of
the evening was flung on the canvas. A rich greenish radiance sprang
into the sky from behind the mountain, and in this some airy shreds
and ribbons of vapour floated about, and being flushed with that strange
tint, went waving to and fro like pale green flames. After a while,
radiating bars — vast broadening fan-shaped shadows — grew up and
stretched away to the zenith from behind the mountain. It was a spec-
tacle to take one's breath, for the wonder of it and the sublimity.
Indeed, those mighty bars of alternate light and shadow streaming
up from behind that dark and prodigious form, and occupying the
half of the dull and opaque heavens, were the most imposing and im-
pressive marvel I had ever looked upon. There is no simile for it, for
nothing is like it. If a child had asked me what it was, I should
have said, ' Humble yourself in this presence, it is the glory flowing
from the hidden head of the Creator.' One falls shorter of the truth
than that, sometimes, in trying to explain mysteries to the little people.
443 A TRAMP ABB AD.
I could have found out the cause of this awe-compelling miracle by
inquiring, for it is not infrequent at Mont Blanc — but I did not wish
to know. We have not the reverent feeling for the rainbow that a
savage has, because we know how it is made. We have lost as much
as we gained by prying into that matter.
We took a walk down street, a block or two, and at a place where
four streets met and the principal shops were clustered, found the groups
of men in the roadway thicker than ever — for this was the Exchange
of Chamonix. These men were in the costumes of guides and porters,
and were there to be hired.
The office of that great personage, the Guide-in-Chiet of the Cha-
monix Guild of Guides, was near by. This guild is a close corporation,
and is governed by strict laws. There are many excursion routes,
some dangerous and some not, some that can be made safely without
a guide, and some that cannot. The bureau determines these things.
Where it decides that a guide is necessary, you are forbidden to go
without one. Neither are you allowed to be a victim of extortion ; the
law states what you are to pay. The guides serve in rotation; you
cannot select the man who is to take your life into his hands, you must
take the worst in the lot if it is his turn.
A guide's fee ranges all the way up from a half dollar (for some
trifling excm-sion of a few rods) to twenty dollars, according to the dis-
tance traversed and the nature of the ground. A guide's fee for taking
a person to the summit of Mont Blanc and back is twenty dollars — and
he earns it. The time employed is usually three days, and there is
enough early rising in it to make a man far more ' healthy and wealthy
and wise ' than any one man has any right to be. The porter's fee for
the same trip is ten dollars. Several fools — no, I mean several tourists
— usually go together, and divide up the expense, and thus make it
light ; for if only one f — tourist, I mean — went, he would have to
have several guides and porters, and that would make the matter
costly.
We went into the Chief's office. There were maps of mountains
on the walls, also one or two lithographs of celebrated guides and a
portrait of the scientist De Saussure.
In glass cases were some labelled fragments of boots and batons,
and other suggestive relics and remembrances of casualties on Mont
STREET IN CHAMONTX
G G
A TRAMP ABROAD.
45J
Blanc. In a book was a record of all the ascents which have ever been
made, beginning with Nos. 1 and 2 — being those
of Jacques Balmat and De Saussure, in 1787, and
ending with No. 685, which wasn't cold yet. In
fact No. 685 was standing by the official table
waiting to receive the precious official diploma
which should prove to his German household and
to his descendants that he had once been indiscreet
enough to climb to the top of Mont Blanc. He
looked very happy when he got his document ; in
fact, he spoke up and said he was happy.
I tried to buy a diploma for an invalid friend
at home who had never travelled, and whose
desire all his life has been to ascend Mont Blanc,
but the Guide-in- Chief rather insolently refused
to sell me one. I was very much offended. I said
I did not propose to be discriminated against on
account of my nationality; that he had just sold a
diploma to this German gentleman, and my money
was as good as his ; I would see to it that he
° ' THE PROUD GERMAN.
couldn t keep shop lor Germans and deny his pro-
duce to Americans ; I would have his licence taken away from him
at the dropping of a handkerchief ; if France refused to break him, I
would make an international matter of it and bring on a war ; the
soil should be drenched with blood ; and not only that, but I would set
up an opposition shop and sell diplomas at half price.
For two cents I would have done these things, too ; but nobody
offered me the two cents. I tried to move that German's feelings, but
it could not be done; he would not give me his diploma, neither
would he sell it to me. I told him my friend was sick and could not
come himself, but he said he did not care a verdammtes pfennig, he
wanted his diploma for himself — did I suppose he was going to risk
his neck for that thing and then give it to a sick stranger ? Indeed he
wouldn't, so he wouldn't. I resolved, then, that I would do all I
could to injure Mont Blanc.
In the record book was a list of all the fatal accidents which had
happened on the mountain. It began with the one in 1820, when the
g g 2
452
A TRAMP ABROAD.
Russian Dr. Hamel's three guides were lost in a crevasse of the glacier,
and it recorded the delivery of
the remains in the valley by
the slow-moving glacier forty-
one years later. The latest cata-
strophe bore date 1877.
We stepped out and roved
about the village a while. In
front of the little church was
a monument to the memory of
the bold guide Jacques Balmat,
the first man who ever stood
upon the summit of Mont
Blanc. He made that wild trip
solitary and alone. He accom-
plished the ascent a number of
times afterwards. A stretch of
nearly half a century lay be-
tween his first ascent and his
last one. At the ripe old age
of seventy-two he was climbing
around a corner of a lofty pre-
cipice of the Pic du Midi —
nobody with him — when he
slipped and fell. So he died in harness.
He had grown very avaricious in his old age, and used to go off
stealthily to hunt for non-existent and impossible gold among those
perilous peaks and precipices. He was on a quest of that kind when
he lost his life. There was a statue to him, and another to De Saussure,
in the hall of our hotel, and a metal plate on the door of a room
upstairs bore an inscription to the effect that that room had been occu-
pied by Albert Smith. Balmat and De Saussure discovered Mont Blanc
— so to speak — but it was Smith who made it a paying property.
His articles in Blackwood and his lectures on Mont Blanc in London
advertised it and made people as anxious to see it as if it owed them
money.
As we strolled along the road we looked up and saw a red signal
THE INDIGNANT TOUKIST.
A TRAMP ABROAD. 453
light glowing in the darkness of the mountain side. It seemed but a
trifling way up — perhaps a hundred yards, a climb of ten minutes. It
was a lucky piece of sagacity in us that we concluded to stop a man
whom we met and get a light for our pipes from him instead of con-
tinuing the climb to that lantern to get a light, as had been our purpose.
The man said that that lantern was on the Grands Mulets, some 6,500
feet above the valley ! I know by our Riffelberg experience that it
would have taken us a good part of a week to go up there. I would
sooner not smoke at all than take all that trouble for a light.
Even in the daytime the foreshortening effect of the mountain's
close proximity creates curious deceptions. For instance, one sees with
the naked eye a cabin up there beside the glacier, and a little above
and beyond he sees the spot where that red light was located ; he
thinks he could throw a stone from the one place to the other. But
he couldn't, for the difference between the two altitudes is more than
3,000 feet. It looks impossible, from below, that this can be true, but
it is true, nevertheless.
While strolling about, we kept the run of the moon all the time,
and we still kept an eye on her after we got back to the hotel portico.
I had a theory that the gravitation of refraction being subsidiary to
atmospheric compensation, the refrangibility ot the earth's surface
would emphasize this effect in regions where great mountain ranges
occur, and possibly so even-handedly impact the odic and idyllic forces
together, the one upon the other, as to prevent the moon from rising
higher than 12,200 feet above sea level. This daring theory had been
received with frantic scorn by some of my fellow- scientists, and with
an eager silence by ethers. Among the former I may mention Prof.
H y, and among the latter Prof. T 1. Such is professional
jealousy; a scientist will never show any kindness for a theory which
he did not start himself. There is no feeling of brotherhood among
these people. Indeed, they always resent it when I call them brother.
To show how far their ungenerosity can carry them, I will state that I
offered to let Prof. H y publish my great theory as his own dis-
covery; I even begged him to do it ; I even proposed to print it
myself as his theory. Instead of thanking me, he said that if I tried
to fasten that theory on him he would sue me for slander. I was
going to offer it to Mr. Darwin, whom I understood to be a man
*54 A TRAMP ABROAD.
without prejudices, but it occurred to me that perhaps he would not
be interested in it since it did not concern heraldry.
But I am glad now that I was forced to father my intrepid theory
myself, for on the night of which I am writing it was triumphantly
justified and established. Mont Blanc is nearly 16,000 feet high;
he hid the moon utterly; near him is a peak which is 12,216 feet
high ; the moon slid along behind the pinnacles, and when she ap-
proached that one I watched her with intense interest, for my reputa-
tion as a scientist must stand or fall by its decision. I cannot describe
the emotions which surged like tidal waves through my breast when I
saw the moon glide behind that lofty needle and pass it by without
exposing more than two feet four inches of her upper rim above it !
I was secure, then. I knew she could rise no higher, and I was right.
She sailed behind all the peaks and never succeeded in hoisting her
disk above a single one of them.
While the moon was behind one of those sharp fingers, its shadow
was flung athwart the vacant heavens — a long, slanting, clean-cut,
dark ray, with a streaming and energetic suggestion of force about it,
such as the ascending jet of water from a powerful fire engine affords.
It was curious to see a good strong shadow of an earthly object cast
upon so intangible a field as the atmosphere.
We went to bed at last, and went quickly to sleep, but I woke
up, after about three hours, with throbbing temples, and a head which
was physically sore, outside and in. I was dazed, dreamy, wretched,
seedy, unrefreshed. I recognised the occasion of all this ; it was that
torrent. In the mountain villages of Switzerland, and along the roads,
one has always the roar of the torrent in his ears. He imagines it is
music, and he thinks poetic things about it ; he lies in his comfort-
able bed and is lulled to sleep by it. But by-and-by he begins to
notice that his head is very sore — he cannot account for it ; in soli-
tudes where the profoundest silence reigns, he notices a sullen, distant,
continuous roar in his ears, which is like what he would experience
if he had sea-shells pressed against them — he cannot account for it ; he
is drowsy and absent-minded ; there is no tenacity to his mind, be
cannot keep hold of a thought and follow it out ; if he sits down to
write, his vocabulary is empty, no suitable words will come, he forgets
what he started to do, and remains there, pen in hand, head tilted up,
A TRAMP ABROAD.
455
eyes closed, listening painfully to the muffled rear of a distant train in
his ears. In his soundest sleep r_lp~ T ~ ";_-_ ;*v£ ■■•'■"' '" '"V~X.
the strain continues, he goes on *"T
listening, always listening, in-
tently, anxiously, and wakes at
last, harassed, irritable, unre-
freshed. He cannot manage to
account for these things. Day
after day he feels as if he had
spent his nights in a sleeping car.
It actually takes him weeks to
find out that it is those persecuting
torrents that have been making
all the mischief. It is time for
him to get out of Switzerland
then, for as soon as he has dis-
covered the cause, the misery is
magnified several fold. The roar
of the torrent is maddening then,
for his imagination is assisting ;
the physical pain it inflicts is
exquisite. When he finds he is
approaching one of those streams,
his dread is so lively that he is
disposed to fly the track and
avoid the implacable foe.
Eight or nine months after
the distress of the torrents had
departed from me, the roar and
thunder of the streets of Paris
brought it all back again. I
moved to the sixth storey of the
hotel to hunt for peace. About
midnight the noises dulled away,
and I Avas sinking to sleep, when
I heard a new and curious sound.
I listened : evidently some joyous
lunatic was softly dancing a
>F SWITZERLAND
456
A Tli AMP ABROAD.
' double shuffle ' in the room over my head. I had to wait for him to
get through, of course. Five long, long minutes he smoothly shuffled
ay — a pause followed, then some-
ng fell with a heavy thump on the
Dr. I said to myself, ' There — he is
[ling off his boots — thank heavens
is done.' Another slight pause —
went to shuffling again ! I said to
/self, ' Is he trying to see what he
only one boot on ? '
Presently came another
pause and another
thump on the floor. I
said, ' G-ood, he has
pulled off his other boot
— now he is done.
But he wasn't. The
next moment he was
shuffling again. I said
' Confound him, he is
at it in his slippers ! '
After a little came that
same old pause, and
that thump on the floor
said, ' Hang him, he had
boots ! ' For an hour
- went on shufflin 8 and
pulling off boots till he had shed as
many as twenty-five pair, and I was hovering on the verge of lunacy.
I got my gun and stole up there. The fellow was in the midst of
an acre of sprawling boots, and he had a boot in his band, shuffling it
— no, I mean polishing it. The mystery was explained. He hadn't
been dancing. He was the ' Boots ' of the hotel, and was attending to
business.
that
magician
PREPARING FOR THE START.
A TRAMP ABROAD. 459
CHAPTER XLIV.
After breakfast, that next morning in Chamonix, we went out in the
yard and watched the gangs of excursionising tourists arriving and
departing with their mules and guides and porters ; then we took a look
through the telescope at the snowy hump of Mont Blanc. It was
brilliant with sunshine, and the vast smooth bulge seemed hardly five
hundred yards away. With the naked eye we could dimly make out
the house at the Pierre Pointue, which is located by the side of the
great glacier, and is more than 3,000 feet above the level of the
valley, but with the telescope we could see all its details. While I
looked, a woman rode by the house on a mule, and I saw her with
sharp distinctness ; I could have described her dress. I saw her nod
to the people of the house, and rein np her mule, and put her hand up
to shield her eyes from the sun. I was not used to telescopes ; in fact,
I never had looked through a good one before; it seemed incre-
dible to me that this woman could be so far away. I was satisfied
that I could see all these details with my naked eye ; but when I tried
it, that mule and those vivid people had wholly vanished, and the
house itself had become small and vague. I tried the telescope again,
and again everything was vivid. The strong black shadows of th&
mule and the woman were flung against the side of the house, and I
saw the mule's silhouette wave its ears.
The telescopulist— or the telescopulariat — I do not know which
is right — said a party were making the grand ascent, and would come
in sight on the remote upper heights, presently; so we waited to>
observe this performance.
Presently I had a superb idea. I wanted to stand with a party
on the summit of Mont Blanc, merely to be able to say I had done it,
400 A TRAMP ABROAD.
and I believed the telescope could set me within seven feet of the
uppermost man. The telescoper assured me that it could. I then
asked him how much I owed him for as far as I had got ? He said,
one franc. I asked him how much it would cost me to make the entire
ascent ? Three francs. I at once determined to make the entire ascent.
But first I inquired if there was any danger ? He said no — not by
telescope ; said he had taken a great many parties to the summit, and
never lost a man. I asked what he would charge to let my agent
:go with me, together with such guides and porters as might be
necessary ? He said he would let Harris go for two francs ; and that
unless we were unusually timid, he should consider guides and porters
•unnecessary ; it was not customary to take them when going by tele-
scope, for they were rather an incumbrance than a help. He said that
the party now on the mountain were approaching the most difficult
part, and if we hurried we should overtake them within ten minutes,
and could then join them and have the benefit of their guides and porters
without their knowledge, and without expense to us.
I then said we would start immediately. I believe I said it calmly,
though I was conscious of a shudder and of a paling cheek, in view of
the nature of the exploit I was so unreflectingly engaging in. But
the old dare-devil spirit was upon ' me, and I said that as I had
committed myself, I would not back down; I would ascend Mont Blanc
if it cost me my life. I told the man to slant his machine in the proper
direction, and let us be off.
Harris was afraid and did not want to go, but I heartened him up and
said I would hold his hand all the way; so he gave his consent,
though he trembled a little at first. I took a last pathetic look
upon the pleasant summer scene about me, then boldly put my eye
to the glass and prepared to mount among the grim glaciers and the
everlasting snows.
We took our way carefully and cautiously across the great Glacier
des Bossons, over yawning and terrific crevasses and amongst im-
posing crags and buttresses of ice, which were fringed with icicles of
gigantic proportions. The desert of ice that stretched far and wide
about us was wild and desolate beyond description, and the perils
which beset us were so great that at times I was minded to turn
back. But I pulled my pluck together and pushed on.
A TRAMP ABROAD. 461
We passed the glacier safely and began to mount the steeps beyond,
with great celerity. When we were seven minutes out from the
starting point, we reached an altitude where the scene took a new
aspect ; an apparently limitless continent of gleaming snow was tilted
heavenward before our faces. As my eye followed that awful acclivity
far away up into the remote skies, it seemed to me that all I had ever
seen before of sublimity and magnitude was small and insignificant
compared with this.
We rested a moment, and then began to mount with speed.
Within three minutes we caught sight of the party ahead of us, and
stopped to observe them. They were toiling up a long, slanting
ridge of snow — twelve persons, roped together some fifteen feet apart,
marching in single file, and strongly marked against the clear blue
sky. One was a woman. We could see them lift their feet and put
them down; we saw them swing their alpenstocks forward in unison,
like so many pendulums, and then bear their weight upon them ; we
saw the lady wave her handkerchief. They dragged themselves up-
wards in a worn and weary way, for they had been climbing steadily
from the Grands Mulets, on the Glacier des Bossons, since three in the
morning, and it was eleven now. We saw them sink down in the snow
and rest, and drink something from a bottle. After a while they
moved on, and as they approached the final short dash of the home-
stretch we closed up on them and joined them.
Presently we all stood together on the summit ! What a view
was spread out below ! Away off under the north-western horizon
rolled the silent billows of the Farnese Oberland, their snowy crests
glinting softly in the subdued lights of distance; in the north rose
the giant form of the Wobblehorn, draped from peak to shoulder in
sable thunder-clouds; beyond him, to the right, stretched the grand
processional summits of the Cisalpine Cordillera, drowned in a sensuous
haze ; to the east loomed the colossal masses of the Yodelhorn, the
Fuddlehorn, and the Dinnerhorn, their cloudless summits flashing
white and cold in the sun ; beyond them shimmered the faint far line
of the Ghauts of Jubbulpore and the Aiguilles des Alleghenies ; in the
south towered the smoking peak of Popocatapetl and the unapproach-
able altitudes of the peerless Scrabblehorn ; in the west-south-west
the stately range of the Himalayas lay dreaming in a purple gloom ;
462
A TRAMP ABROAD.
and thence all around the curving horizon the eye roved over a
troubled sea of sunkissed Alps, and noted here and there the noble
proportions and soaring domes of the Bottlehorn, and the Saddlehorn,
and the Shovelhorn, and the Powderhorn, all bathed in the glory of
noon, and mottled with softly-gliding blots, the shadows flung from
drifting clouds.
Overcome by the scene, we all raised a triumphant, tremendous
WE ALL RAISED A TREMENDOUS SHOUT.'
shout, in unison. A startled man at my elbow said —
1 Confound you, what do you yell like that for, right here in the
street?'
That brought me down to Chamonix like a flirt. I gave that
man some spiritual advice and disposed of him, and then paid the
telescope man his full fee, and said that we were charmed with
the trip, and would remain down, and not re-ascend and require him
to fetch us down by telescope. This pleased him very much, for of
A TRAMP ABROAD. 463
course we could have stepped back to the summit and put him to the
trouble of bringing us home if we had wanted to.
I judged we could get diplomas, now anyhow ; so we went after
them, but the Chief Guide put us off, with one pretext or another,
during all the time we stayed in Chamonix, and we ended by never
getting them at all. So much for his prejudice against people's
nationality. However, we worried him enough to make him remember
us and our ascent for some time. He even said, once, that he wished
there was a lunatic asylum in Chamonix. This shows that he really
had fears that we were going to drive him mad. It was what we
intended to do, but lack of time defeated it.
I cannot venture to advise the reader one way or the other, as to
ascending Mont Blanc. I say only this : if he is at all ■ timid, the
enjoyments of the trip will hardly make up for the hardships and
sufferings he will have to endure. But if he has good nerve, youth,
health, and a bold, firm will, and could leave his family comfortably
provided for in case the worst happened, he would find the ascent a
wonderful experience, and the view from the top a vision to dream
about, and tell about, and recall with exultation all the days of his
life.
While I do not advise such a person to attempt the ascent, I do
not advise him against it. But if he elects to attempt it, let him be
warily careful of two things : choose a calm clear day ; and do not
pay the telescope man in advance. There are dark stories of his
getting advance-payers on the summit, and then leaving them there
to rot.
A frightful tragedy was once witnessed through the Chamonix tele-
scopes. Think of questions and answers like these, on an inquest: —
Coroner. You saw deceased lose his life ?
Witness. I did.
C. Where was he at the time ?
W. Close to the summit of Mont Blanc.
C. Where were you ?
W. In the main street of Chamonix.
C. What was the distance between you ?
W. A little over Jive miles, as the bird flies.
This accident occurred in 1866 a year and a month after the
464 A TRAMP ABROAD.
disaster on the Matterhorn. Three adventurous English gentlemen l
of great experience in mountain climbing, made up their minds to
ascend Mont Blanc without guides or porters. All endeavours to
dissuade them from their project failed. Powerful telescopes are nume-
rous in Chamonix. These huge brass tubes, mounted on their scaffold-
ings and pointing skyward from every choice vantage-ground, have
the formidable look of artillery, and give the town the general
aspect of getting ready to repel a charge of angels. The reader may
easily believe that the telescopes had plenty of custom on that August
morning in 1866, for everybody knew of the dangerous undertaking
which was on foot, and all had fears that misfortune would result.
All the morning the tubes remained directed towards the moun-
tain heights, each with its anxious group around it ; but the white
deserts were vacant.
At last, towards eleven o'clock, the people who were looking through
the telescopes cried out, ' There they are ! ' — and sure enough, far up
on the loftiest terraces of the Grand Plateau, the three pygmies
appeared, climbing with remarkable vigour and spirit. They dis-
appeared in the i Corridor,' and were lost to sight during an hour.
Then they reappeared, and were presently seen standing together upon
the extreme summit of Mont Blanc. So far, all was well. They
remained a few minutes on that highest point of land in Europe, a
target for all the telescopes, and were then seen to begin the descent.
Suddenly all three vanished. An instant after, they appeared again,.
two thousand feet below/
Evidently they had tripped and been shot down an almost per-
pendicular slope of ice to a point where it joined the border of the
upper glacier. Naturally the distant witnesses supposed they were
now looking upon three corpses; so they could hardly believe their
eyes when they presently saw two of the men rise to their feet and
bend over the third. During two hours and a half they watched the-
two busying themselves over the extended form of their brother, who
seemed entirely inert. Chamonix's affairs stood still ; everybody was-
in the street, all interest was centred upon what was going on upon
that lofty and isolated stage five miles away. Finally the two — one
oi them walking with great difficulty — were seen to begin the descent,.
1 Sir George Young and his brothers James and Albert.
A TRAMP ABROAD. 465
abandoning the third, who was no doubt lifeless. Their movements
were followed, step by step, until they reached the < Corridor ' and dis-
appeared behind its ridge. Before they had had time to traverse the
« Corridor ' and reappear, twilight was come, and the power of the
telescopes was at an end.
The survivors had a most perilous journey before them in the
THE GRANDS MULETS.
gathering darkness, for they must get down to the Grands Mulets
before they would find a safe stopping-place — a long and tedious
descent, and perilous enough even in good daylight. The oldest guides
expressed the opinion that they could not succeed ; that all the chances
were that they would lose their lives.
Yet those brave men did succeed. They reached the Grands Mulets
in safety. Even the fearful shock which their nerves had sustained was
H H
466
A TRAMP ABROAD.
not sufficient to overcome their coolness and courage. It would
appear from the official account that they were threading their way-
down through those dangers from the closing in of twilight until two
o'clock in the morning, or later; because the rescuing party from
Chamonix reached the Grands Mulets about three in the morning,
ABIN ON THE GRANDS MULETS.
and moved thence towards the scene of the disaster under the leader-
ship of Sir George Young, 'who had only just arrived.'
After having been on his feet twenty-four hours in the ex-
hausting work of mountain-climbing, Sir George began the re-ascent
at the head of the relief party of six guides, to recover the corpse
of his brother. This was considered a new imprudence, as the
number was too few for the service required. Another relief party
presently arrived at the cabin on the Grands Mulets, and quartered
A I RAMP ABROAD. -107
themselves there to await events. Ten hours after Sir George's
departure towards the summit, this new relief were still scanning the
snowy altitudes above them from their own high perch among the
ice-deserts 10,000 feet above the level of the sea ; but the whole fore-
noon had passed without a glimpse of any living thing appearing up
there.
This was alarming. Half a dozen of their number set out, then,
early in the afternoon, to seek and succour Sir George and his guides.
The persons remaining at the cabin saw these disappear, and then
ensued another distressing wait. Four hours passed without tidings.
Then at five o'clock another relief, consisting of three guides, set for-
ward from the cabin. They carried food and cordials for the refresh-
ment of their predecessors ; they took lanterns with them, too. Night
was coming on ; and, to make matters worse, a fine, cold rain had begun
to fall.
At the same hour that these three began their dangerous ascent
the official Guide-in- Chief of the Mont Blanc region undertook the
dangerous descent to Chamonix, all alone, to get reinforcements. How-
ever, a couple of hours later, at 7 p.m., the anxious solicitude came to
an end, and happily. A bugle note was heard, and a cluster of black
specks was distinguishable against the snows of the upper heights.
The watchers counted these specks eagerly — fourteen. Nobody was
missing. An hour and a half later they were all safe under the roof
of the cabin. They had brought the corpse with them. Sir George
Young tarried there but a few minutes, and then began the long and
troublesome descent from the cabin to Chamonix. He probably
reached there about two or three o'clock in the morning, after having
been afoot among the rocks and glaciers during two days and two nights.
His endurance was equal to his daring.
The cause of the unaccountable delay of Sir George and the relief
parties among the heights where the disaster had happened was a thick
fog ; or partly that, and partly the slow and difficult work of convey-
ing the dead body down the perilous steeps.
The corpse, upon being viewed at the inquest, showed no bruises,
and it was some time before the surgeons discovered that the neck was
broken. One of the surviving brothers had sustained some unim-
portant injuries, but the other had suffered no hurt at all. How
hh 2
468
A TRAMP ABROAD.
these men could fall 2,000 feet almost perpendicularly, and live after-
wards, is a most strange and unaccountable thing.
A great many women have made the ascent of Mont Blanc. An
English girl, Miss Stratton, conceived the daring idea, two or three
years ago, of attempting the ascent in the middle of winter. She tried
it, and she succeeded. Moreover, she froze two of her fingers on the
way up ; she fell in love with her guide on the summit, and she
married him when she got to the
bottom again. There is nothing in
romance, in the way of a striking ' situ-
ation,' which can beat this love scene in
mid-heaven on an isolated ice-crest with
the thermometer at zero and an Arctic
gale blowing.
The first woman who ascended
Mont Blanc was a girl aged twenty-two,
Mdlle. Maria Paradis— 1809. Nobody
was with her but her sweetheart, and he
was not a guide. The sex then took a
rest for about thirty years, when a
Mdlle. d'Angeville made the ascent —
1838. In Chamonix I picked up a.
rude old lithograph of that day which
! pictured her ' in the act.' However,
I value it less as a work of art than
as a fashion-plate. Miss d'Angeville
on a pair of men's pantaloons to climb in,
which was wise ; but she cramped their utility
by adding her petticoat, which was idiotic.
One of the mournfullest calamities which
men's disposition to climb dangerous mountains has resulted in
happened on Mont Blanc in September 1870. Mr. d'Arve tells the
story briefly in his ' Histoire du Mont Blanc' In the next chaoter I
will copy its chief features.
KEEPING WA11M
A TEAMP ABROAD. 469
CHAPTER XLV.
A CATASTROPHE WHICH COST ELEVEN LIVES.
'On September 5, 1870, a caravan of eleven persons departed from
Chamonix to make the ascent of Mont Blanc. Three of the party
were tourists : Messrs. Randall and Bean, Americans, and Mr. George
Corkindale, a Scotch gentleman ; there were three guides and five
porters. The cabin on the Grands Mulets was reached that day ; the
ascent was resumed early the next morning, September 6. The day
was fine and clear, and the movements of the party were observed
through the telescopes of Chamonix ; at two o'clock in the afternoon
they were seen to reach the summit. A few minutes later they
were seen making the first steps of the descent ; then a cloud closed
around them and hid them from view.
Eight hours passed, the cloud still remained, night came, no one
had returned to the Grands Mulets. Syivain Couttet, keeper of the
cabin there, suspected a misfortune, and sent down to the valley ibr
help. A detachment ot guides went up, and by the time they had
made the tedious trip and reached the cabin, a raging storm had set
in. They had to wait ; nothing could be attempted in such a tempest.
The wild storm lasted more than a week, without ceasing ; but
on the 17th, Couttet, with several guides, left the cabin and succeeded
in making the ascent. In the snowy wastes near the summit they came
upon five bodies, lying upon their sides in a reposeful attitude, which
suggested that possibly they had fallen asleep, there, while exhausted
"with fatigue and hunger, and benumbed with cold, and never knew
-when death stole upon them. Couttet moved a few steps farther and
470 A TRAMP ABROAD.
discovered five more bodies. The eleventh corpse — that of a porter
— was not found, although diligent search was made for it.
In the pocket of Mr. Bean, one of the Americans, was found a
note-book in which had been pencilled some sentences which admit us,
in flesh and spirit, as it were, to the presence of these men during their
last hours of life, and to the grisly horrors which their fading vision
looked upon and their failing consciousness took cognizance of: —
Tuesday, Sept. 6. — I have made the ascent of Mont Blanc, with ten
persons — eight guides, and Mr. Oorkindale and Mr. Randall. We reached
the summit at half-past two. Immediately after quitting it, we were enve-
loped in clouds of snow. We passed the night in a grotto hollowed in
the snow, which afforded but poor shelter, and I was ill all night.
Sept. 7, Morning. — The cold is excessive. The snow falls heavily and
without interruption. The guides take no rest.
Evening. — My Dear Hessie, we have been two days on Mont Blanc,
in the midst of a terrible hurricane of snow, we have lost our way, and are-
in a hole scooped in the snow, at an altitude of 15,000 feet. I have no-
longer any hope of descending.
They had wandered around, and around, in that blinding snow
storm, hopelessly lost, in a space only a hundred yards square ; and
when cold and fatigue vanquished them at last, they scooped their cave-
and lay down there to die by inches, unaware that five steps more would
have brought them into the true path. They were so near to life and:
safety as that, and did not suspect it ! The thought of this gives the-
sharpest pang that the tragic story conveys.
The author of the ' Histoire du Mont Blanc ' introduces the closing-
sentences of Mr. Bean's pathetic record thus: —
1 Here the characters are large and unsteady ; the hand which
traces them is become chilled and torpid ; but the spirit survives, and
the faith and resignation of the dying man are expressed with a.
sublime simplicity.'
Perhaps this note-book will be found and sent to you. We have nothing
to eat, my feet are already frozen, and I am exhausted ; I have strength
to write only a few words more. I have left means for C.'s education ; I
know you will employ them wisely. I die with faith in God, and -with
loving thoughts of you. Farewell to all. We shall meet again, in Heaven,
, , . I think of you always.
A TRAMP ABROAD.
471
It is the way of the Alps to deliver death to their victims with
a merciful swiftness, but here the rule failed. These men suffered the
bitterest death that has been recorded in the history of those mountains,
freighted as that history is with grisly tragedies.
ON THE ALPS.
472 A TRAMP ABROAD.
CHAPTER XL VI.
Mr. Harris and I took some guides and porters, and ascended to the
Hotel des Pyramides, which is perched on the high moraine which
borders the Glacier des Bossons. The road led sharply up hill, all
the way, through grass and flowers and woods, and was a pleasant
walk, barring the fatigue of the climb.
From the hotel we could view the huge glacier at very close range.
After a rest we followed down a path which had been made in the
steep inner frontage of the moraine, and stepped upon the glacier
itself. One of the shows of the place was a tunnel-like cavern, which
had been hewn in the glacier. The proprietor of this tunnel took
candles, and conducted us into it. It was three or four feet wide and
about six feet high. Its walls of pure and solid ice emitted a soft and
rich blue light that produced a lovely effect, and suggested enchanted
caves, and that sort of thing. When we had proceeded some yards
and were entering darkness, we turned about and had a dainty
sun-lit picture of distant woods and heights framed in the strong arch
of the tunnel and seen through the tender blue radiance of the tunnel's
atmosphere.
The cavern was nearly a hundred yards long, and when we
reached its inner limit the proprietor stepped into a branch tunnel with
his candles, and left us buried in the bowels of the glacier, and in
pitch darkness. We judged his purpose was murder and robbery;
so we got out our matches and prepared to sell our lives as dearly as
possible by setting the glacier on fire if the worst came to the worst —
but we soon perceived that this man had changed his mind ; he began
to sing, in a deep melodious voice, and woke some curious and pleasing
echoes. By-and-by he came back and pretended that that was what
he had gone behind there for. We believed as much of that as we
wanted to.
A TRAMP ABROAD.
Thus our lives had been once more in imminent peril, but by the
exercise of the swift sagacity and cool courage which had saved us
so often, we had added another escape to the long list. The tourist
should visit that ice-cavern, by all means, for it is well worth the
trouble ; but I would advise him to go only with a strong and well
armed force. I do not consider artillery necessary, yet it would not be
unadvisable to take it along if convenient. The journey, going and
coming, is about three miles and a half, three of which are on level
ground. We made it in less than a day, but I would counsel the
unpractised, if not pressed for
time, to allow themselves two.
Nothing is gained in the Alps
by over-exertion; nothing is
gained by crowding two days'
work into one for the poor sake
of being able to boast of the
exploit afterwards. It will
be found much better, in the
long run, to do the thing in
two days, and then subtract one
of them from the narrative.
This saves fatigue, and does not
injure the narrative. All the
more thoughtful among the
Alpine tourists do this.
We now called upon the
Guide-in- Chief, and asked for a squadron of guides and porters for
the ascent of the Montanvert. This idiot glared at us, and said —
' You don't need guides and porters to go to the Montanvert.' ,
1 What do we need, then ? '
' Such as you ? — an ambulance ! '
I was so stung by this brutal remark that I took my custom else-
where.
Betimes, next morning, we had reached an altitude of 5,000 feet
above the level of the sea. Here we camped and breakfasted. There
was a cabin there — the spot is called the Caillet — and a spring of
ice-cold water. On the door of the cabin was a sign, in French, to
TAKE IT EASY.
47-1 A TRAMP ABROAD.
the effect that l One may here see a living chamois for 50 centimes. 5 '
We did not invest ; what we wanted was to see a dead one.
A little' after noon we ended the ascent, and arrived at the new
hotel on the Montanvert, and had a view of six miles, right up the
great glacier, the famous Mer de Glace. At this point it is like a sea
whose deep swales and long rolling swells have been caught in mid-
movement and frozen solid ; but farther up it is broken up into wildly-
tossing billows of ice.
We descended a ticklish path, in the steep side of the moraine,
and invaded the glacier. There were tourists of both sexes scattered
far and wide over it everywhere, and it had the festive look of a
skating rink.
The Empress Josephine came this far once. She ascended the
Montanvert in 1810 — but not alone ; a small army of men preceded
her to clear the path — and carpet it, perhaps, — and she followed, under
the protection of sixty-eight guides.
Her successor visited Chamonix later, but in far different style.
It was seven weeks after the first fall of the Empire, and poor Marie
Louise, ex-Empress, was a fugitive. She came at night, and in a
storm, with only two attendants, and stood before a peasant's hut, tired,
bedraggled, soaked with rain, ' the red print of her lost crown still
girdling her brow,' and implored admittance — and was refused ! A
few days before, the adulations and applause o£ a nation were sounding
in her ears, and now she was come to this !
We crossed the Mer de Glace in safety, but we had misgivings.
The crevasses in the ice yawned deep and blue and mysterious,
and it made one nervous to traverse them. The huge round waves
of ice were slippery and difficult to climb, and the chances of tripping
and sliding down them and darting into a crevasse, were too many to
be comfortable.
In the bottom of a deep swale between two of the biggest of the
ice-waves, we found a fraud who pretended to be cutting steps to ensure
the safety of tourists. He was ' soldiering ' when we came upon him,
but he hopped up and chipped out a couple of steps about big enough
for a cat, and charged us a franc or two for it. Then he sat down
again, to doze till the next party should come along. He had collected
black mail from two or three hundred people already, that day, but
1
1
A TRAMP ABROAD.
477
nad not chipped out ice enough to impair the glacier perceptibly. I
have heard of a good many soft sinecures, but it seems to me that
keeping tollbridge on a glacier is the softest one I have encountered
yet.
That was a blazing hot day, and it brought a persistent and per-
secuting thirst with it. What an unspeakable luxury it was to slake
that thirst with the pure and limpid ice-water of the glacier I
Down the sides of every great rib of ice poured limpid rills in gutters
carved by their own attrition ; better still, wherever a rock had lain,
there was now a bowl-shaped hole, with smooth white sides and
bottom of ice, and this bowl was brimming with water of such
absolute clearness that the careless observer would not see it at all r
but would think the bowl w^s empty. These fountains had such an
alluring look that I often stretched myself out when I was not thirsty
and dipped my face in and drank till my teeth ached. Everywhere-
among the Swiss mountains we had at hand the blessing — not to be
found in Europe, except in the mountains, — of water capable of quench-
ing thirst. Everywhere in the Swiss highlands brilliant little rills
of exquisitely cold water went dancing along by the roadsides, and
478 A TRAMP ABROAD.
my comrade and I were always drinking and always delivering our deep
gratitude.
But in Europe everywhere, except in the mountains, the water
is flat and insipid beyond the power of words to describe. It is served
lukewarm ; but no matter, ice could not help it ; it is incurably flat,
incurably insipid. It is only good to wash with ; I wonder it doesn't
occur to the average inhabitant to try it for that. In Europe the
people say contemptuously, * Nobody drinks water here.' Indeed they
have a sound and sufficient reason. In many places they even have
what may be called prohibitory reasons. In Paris and Munich, for
instance, they say, ' Don't drink the water, it is simply poison.'
Either America is healthier than Europe, notwithstanding her
4 deadly ' indulgence in ice- water, or she does not keep the run of her
death-rate as sharply as Europe does. I think we do keep up the
death statistics accurately; and if we do, our cities are healthier than
the cities of Europe. Every month the German government tabulates
the death-rate of the world and publishes it. I scrap-booked these
reports during several months, and it was curious to see how regular
and persistently each city repeated its same death-rate month after
month. The tables might as well have been stereotyped, they varied
so little. These tables were based upon weekly reports showing
the average of deaths in each 1,000 of population for a year. Munich
was always present with her 33 deaths in each 1,000 of her
population (yearly average), Chicago was as constant with her 15 or
17, Dublin with her 48 — and so on.
Only a few American cities appear in these tables, but they are
scattered so widely over the country, that they furnish a good general
average of city health in the United States ; and I think it will be
granted that our towns and villages are healthier than our cities.
Here is the average of the only American cities reported in the
German tables : —
Chicago, deaths in 1,000 of population annually, 16; Philadelphia,
18; St. Louis, 18; San Francisco, 19; New York (the Dublin of
America), 23.
See how the figures jump up, as soon as one arrives at the Trans-
atlantic list : —
Paris, 27 ; Glasgow, 27 London, 28; Vienna, 28; Augsburg,
A TRAMP ABROAD.
479
m
28; Hraunschweig, 28 Konigsberg, 29 ; Cologne, 29 ; Dresden, 29;
Hamburg, 29 ; Berlin, 30 ; Bombay, 30 ; Warsaw, 31 ; Breslau, 31 ;
Odessa, 32 ; Munich, 33 ; Strasburg, 33 ; Pesth, 35 ; Cassel, 35 ;
Lisbon, 36 ; Liverpool, 36 ; Prague, 37 ; Madras, 37 ; Bucharest, 39 ;
St. Petersburg, 40; Trieste, 40; Alexandria (Egypt), 43; Dublin,
48 ; Calcutta, 55.
Edinburgh is as healthy as New York — 23 ; but there is no city
in the entire list which is healthier, except Frankfort- on -the-Main
— 20. But Frankfort is not as healthy as Chicago, San Francisco,
St. Louis, or Philadelphia.
Perhaps a strict average of the world might
develop the fact that where 1 in 1,000 of
America's population dies, 2 in 1,000 of the
other populations of the earth succumb.
I do not like to make insinuations, but I
do think the above
statistics darkly
suggest that these
people over here
drink this detest-
able water 'on the
sly.'
We climbed the
moraine on the
opposite side of the
glacier, and then
crept along its sharp
ridge a hundred
yards or so, in
pretty constant
danger of a tumble
to the glacier be-
low. The fall would
only have been
100 feet, but it
would have closed
me out as effec-
tually as 1,000 feet.
A DESCENDING TOURIST.
430
A TRAMP ABROAD.
thing to
therefore I respected the distance accordingly, and was glad when the
trip was done. A moraine is an ugly thing to assault head-first. At a
distance it looks like an endless grave of fine sand, accurately shaped and
nicely smoothed ; but close by, it is found to be made mainly of rough
boulders of all sizes, from that of a man's head to that of a cottage.
By-and-by we came to the Mauvais Pas, or, the Villainous Koad,
— =-" ~^i to translate it feelingly. It was a break-
1 neck path around the face of a precipice
forty or fifty feet high, and no-
Lang on to but some
iron railings. I got
nlong, slowly, safely,
and uncomfortably, and
finally reached the
middle. My hopes
began to rise a little,
but they were quickly
blighted ; for there I
met a hog — a long-
nosed bristly fellow,
that held up his snout
and worked his nostrils
at me inquiringly. A
hog on a pleasure
excursion in Switzer-
land — think of it. It is
striking and unusual ;
a body might write a
poem about it. He
could not retreat, if he '•
had been disposed to do
it. It would have been
foolish to stand upon our dignity in a place where there was hardly
room to stand upon our feet, so we did nothing of the sort. There were
twenty or thirty ladies and gentlemen behind us ; we all turned about
and went back, and the hog followed behind. The creature did not
seem set up by what he had done ; he had probably done it before.
LEAVING BY DILIGENCE
A TRAMP ABROAD.
431
We reached the restaurant on the height called the Chateau at four
in the afternoon. It was a memento factory, and the stock was
large, cheap and varied. I bought the usual papercutter to remember
the place by, and had Mont Blanc, the Mauvais Pas, and the rest of
the region branded on my alpenstock ; then we descended to the valley,
and walked home without being tied together. This was not dangerous,
for the valley was five miles wide,
and quite level.
We reached the hotel before nine
o'clock. Next morning we left for
Geneva on top of the diligence, under
shelter of a gay awning. If I
remember rightly, there were more
than twenty people up there. It
was so high that the ascent was
made by ladder. The huge vehicle
was full everywhere, inside and out.
Five other diligences left at the same
time, all full. We had engaged our
seats two days beforehand, to make
sure, and paid the regulation price, i »
five dollars each ; but the rest of the ^ "
company were wiser; they had trusted ^'
Baedeker, and waited ; consequently,
some of them got their seats for *^2^J>
one or two dollars. Baedeker knows all about hotels, railway and
diligence companies, and speaks his mind freely. He is a trustworthy
friend of the traveller.
We never saw Mont Blanc at his best until we were many miles
away ; then he lifted his majestic proportions high into the heavens, all
white and cold and solemn, and made the rest of the world seem little
and plebeian, and cheap and trivial.
As he passed out of sight at last, an old Englishman settled
himself in his seat and said —
1 Well, I am satisfied. I have seen the principal features of Swiss
scenery — Mont Blanc and the goitre — now for home 1 '
'fe
\.'. [■: ftcmn
II
482 A TRAMP ABROAD,
CHAPTER XLVII.
We spent a few pleasant restful days at Geneva, that delightful city
where accurate time-pieces are made for all the rest of the world, but
whose own clocks never give the correct time of day by any accident.
Geneva is filled with pretty little shops, and the shops are filled
with the most enticing gimcrackery ; but if one enters one of these
places he is at once pounced upon, and followed up, and so persecuted
to buy this, that, and the other thing, that he is very grateful to get
out again, and is not at all apt to repeat his experiment. The shop-
keepers of the smaller sort, in Geneva, are as troublesome and per-
sistent as are the salesmen of that monster hive in Paris, the Grand
Magasin du Louvre — an establishment where ill-marmered pestering,
pursuing and insistence have been reduced to a science.
In Geneva, prices in the smaller shops are very elastic — that is
another bad feature. I was looking in at a window at a very pretty
striiig of beads, suitable for a child. I was only admiring them; I had
no use for them ; I hardly ever wear beads. The shopwoman came
out and offered them to me for thirty-five francs. I said it was cheap,
but I did not need them.
* Ah, but, monsieur, they are so beautiful!'
I confessed it, but said they were not suitable for one of my age
and simplicity of character. She darted in and brought them out,
and tried to force them into my hands, saying —
' Ah, but only see how lovely they are ! Surely monsieur Avill
take them; monsieur shall have them for thirty francs. There, I
have said it — it is a loss, but one must live ! '
I dropped my hands and tried to move her to respect my unpro-
tected situation. But no, she dangled the beads in the sun before my
face, exclaiming, ' Ah, monsieur cannot resist them ! ' She hung them
A TRAMP ABROAD.
483
on my coat button, folded her hands resignedly, and said, ' Gone — and
for\thirty francs, the lovely things, it is incredible ! but the good God
will sanctify the sacrifice to me.'
I removed them gently, returned them, and walked away, shaking
my head and smiling a smile of silly embarrassment, while the passers-
by halted to observe. The woman leaned out of her door, shook the
beads, and screamed after me —
* Monsieur shall have them for twenty-eight ' '
HIGH PRESSURE.
I shook my head.
' Twenty- seven ! It is a cruel loss, it is ruin — but take them, only
take them.'
I still retreated, still wagging my head.
' Mon Dieu, they shall even go for twenty- six ! There, I have said
it. Come ! '
I wagged another negative. A nurse and a little English girl
had been near me, and were following me, now. The shop woman
ran to the nurse, thrust the beads into her hands and said —
I 12
4S4 A TRAMP ABROAD.
' Monsieur shall have them for twenty-five ! Take them to the
hotel — he shall send me the money to-morrow — next day — when he
likes.' Then to the child : ' When thy father sends me the money,
come thou also, my angel, and thou shalt have something, oh so pretty.'
I was thus providentially saved. The nurse refused the beads
squarely and firmly, and that ended the matter.
The ' sights ' of Geneva are not numerous. I made one attempt
to hunt up the houses once inhabited by those two disagreeable people,
Eousseau and Calvin, but had no success. Then I concluded to .go
home. I found it was easier to propose to do that than to do it; for
that town is a bewildering place. I got lost in a tangle of narrow
and crooked streets, and stayed lost for an hour or two. Finally I
found a street which looked somewhat familiar, and said to myself,
* Now I am at home, I judge.' But I was wrong ; this was ' Hell
Street.' Presently I found another place which had a familiar look,
and said to myself, ' Now I am at home, sure.' It was another error.
This was l Purgatory Street.' After a little I said, ' Now I've got to
the right place, anyway no, this is " Paradise Street ; " I'm
farther from home than I was in the beginning.' Those were queer
names — Calvin was the author of them, likely. ' Hell ' and ' Purga-
tory ' fitted those two streets like a glove, but the ' Paradise ' appeared
to be sarcastic.
I came out on the lake front, at last, and then I knew where I was.
I was walking along before the glittering jewellery shops when I saw
a curious performance. A lady passed by, and a trim dandy lounged
across the walk in such an apparently carefully-timed way as to bring
himself exactly in front of her when she got to him ; he made no offer
to step out of the way; he did not apologize ; he did not even notice
her. She had to stop still and let him lounge by. I wondered if he
had done that piece of brutality purposely. He strolled to a chair and
seated himself at a small table; two or three other males were sitting
at similar tables sipping sweetened water. I waited ; presently a
youth came by, and this fellow got up and served him the same trick.
Still, it did not seem possible that anyone could do such a thing
deliberately. To satisfy my curiosity I went around the block, and,
sure enough, as I approached, at a good round speed, he got up and
lounged lazily across my path, fouling my course exactly at the right
A TRAMP ABROAD
485
moment to receive all my weight,
performances had not
been accidental, but in-
tentional.
I saw that dandy's
curious game played
afterwards in Paris, but
not for amusement ; not
with a motive of any
This proved that his previous
sort, indeed, but
simply from a
selfish indiffer-
to other
KO APOLOGY.
ence
people's comfort
and rights. One
does not see it
as frequently in
Paris as he might
expect to, for
there the law
says, in effect,
' It is the busi-
ness of the weak
to get out of the way of the strong.' We
fine a cabman if he runs over a citizen ;
Paris fines the citizen for being run over.
At least so everybody says — but I saw
something which caused me to doubt ; I
saw a horseman run over an old woman
" saa one* day — the police arrested him and took
him away. That looked as if they meant
to punish him.
It will not do for me to find merit in American manners — for are
they not the standing butt for the jests of critical and polished Europe ?
Still I must venture to claim one little matter of superiority in our man-
ners — a lady may traverse our streets all day going and coming as she
chooses, and she will never be molested by any man ; but if a lady
unattended walks abroad in the streets of London, even at noonday,
she will be pretty likely to be accosted and insulted ; and not by
drunken sailors, but by men who carry the look and wear the dress of
gentlemen. It is maintained that these people are not gentlemen, but
are a lower sort disguised as gentlemen. The case of Colonel Valen-
tine Baker obstructs that argument, for a man cannot become an
officer in the British army except he hold the rank of gentleman. This
person, finding himself alone in a railway compartment with an un-
NONE ASKED.
4SG
A TBAJ/P ABROAD.
protected girl — but it is an atrocious story, and doubtless the reader
remembers it well enough. London must have been more or less
accustomed to Bakers, and the ways of Bakers, else London would
have been offended and excited. Baker was ' imprisoned ' — in a
parlour ; and he could not have been more visited, or more over-
whelmed with attentions, if he had committed six murders, and then —
while the gallows was preparing — ' got religion ' — after the manner of
the holy Charles Peace, of saintly memory. Arkansaw — it seems a
little indelicate to be trumpeting forth our own superiorities, and com-
parisons are always
odious, but still —
Arkansaw would cer-
tainly have hanged
Baker. I do not say
she would have tried
him first, but she
would have hanged
him, any way.
Even the most
degraded woman can
walk our streets un-
molested, her sex and
her weakness being
her sufficient protec-
tion. She will en-
counter less polish
than she would in the
old world, but she will
run across enough
humanity to make up
for it.
The music of a
donkey awoke us early
in the morning, and we rose up and made ready for a pretty formidable
walk — to Italy ; but the road was so level that we took the train. We
lost a good deal of time by this, but it was no matter, we were not in a
hurry. We were four hours going to Chambery. The Swiss trains
A LIVELY STREET.
A Tit AMP ABROAD.
487
go upwards of three miles an hour, in places, but they are quite
safe.
That aged French town of Chambery was as quaint and crooked as
Heilbronn. A drowsy reposeful quiet reigned in the back streets which
made strolling through them very pleasant, barring the almost unbear-
able heat of the sun. In one of these streets, which was eight feet wide,
gracefully curved, and built up with small antiquated houses, I saw
three fat hogs lying asleep, and a boy (also asleep), taking care of
HAVING HER FULL MIGHTS.
them. From queer old-fashioned windows along the curve, projected
boxes of bright flowers, and over the edge of one of these boxes hung
the head and shoulders of a cat — asleep. The five sleeping creatures
were the only living things visible in that street. There was not a
sound ; absolute stillness prevailed. It was Sunday ; one is not used
to such dreamy Sundays on the Continent. In our part of the town
it was different that night. A regiment of brown and battered soldiers
488 A TRAMP ABROAD.
had arrived home from Algiers, and I judged they got thirsty on the
way. They sang and drank till dawn, in the pleasant open air.
We left for Turin at ten the next morning by a railway, which
was profusely decorated with, tunnels. We forgot to take a lantern
along, consequently we missed all the scenery. Our compartment was
full. A ponderous tow-headed Swiss woman, who put on many fine-
lady airs, but was evidently more used to washing linen than wearing
it, sat in a corner seat and put her legs across into the opposite one,
propping them intermediately with her up-ended valise. In the seat
thus pirated sat two Americans, greatly incommoded by that woman's
majestic coffin-clad feet. One of them begged her, politely, to remove
them. She opened her wide eyes and gave him a stare, but answered
nothing. By-and-by he preferred his request again, with great re-
spectfulness. She said, in good English, and in a deeply offended tone,
that she had paid her passage and was not going to be bullied out of her
1 rights' by ill-bred foreigners, even if she was alone and unprotected.
I But I have rights also, madam. My ticket entitles me to a seat,
but you are occupying half of it.'
I I will not talk with you, sir. What right have you to speak to me ?
I do not know you. One would know you came from a land where there
are no gentlemen. No gentleman would treat a lady as you have treated
me.'
' I come from a region where a lady would hardly give me the same
provocation.'
* You have insulted me, sir ! You have intimated that I am not a
lady — and I hope I am not one, after the pattern of your country.'
* I beg that you will give yourself no alarm on that head, madam ;
but at the same time I must insist — always respectfully — that you let
me have my seat.'
Here the fragile laundress burst into tears and sobs.
1 1 never was so insulted before ! Never, never ! It is shameful, it
is brutal, it is base, to bully and abuse an unprotected lady who has lost
the use of her limbs and cannot put her feet to the floor without
agony ! '
1 Good heavens, madam, why didn't you say that at first ! I offer
a thousand pardons. And I offer them most sincerely. I did not know —
I could not know — that anything was the matter. You are most welcome
A TRAMP ABROAD.
489
to the seat, and would have been from the first if I had only known. I
am truly sorry it all happened, I do assure you.'
But he couldn't get a word of forgiveness out of her. She simply,
sobbed and snuffled in a subdued but wholly unappeasable way for
two long hours, meantime crowding the man more than ever with her
undertaker-furniture, and paying no sort of attention to his frequent
and humble little efforts to do something for her comfort. Then the
train halted at the Italian line, and she hopped up and marched out of
the car with as firm a leg as any washerwoman of all her tribe ! And
how sick I was to see how she had fooled me ! *
Turin is a very fine city. In
the matter of roominess it tran-
scends anything that was ever
dreamed of before, I fancy. It
sits in the midst of a vast dead-
level, and one is obliged to
imagine that land may be had
for the asking, and no taxes to
pay, so lavishly do they use it.
The streets are extravagantly
wide, the paved squares are pro-
digious, the houses are huge and
handsome, and compacted into
uniform blocks that stretch away
as straight as an arrow, into the
distance. The side walks are
about as wide as ordinary Euro-
pean streets, and are covered
over with a double arcade, sup-
ported on great stone piers or
columns. One walks from one
end to the other of these spacious streets, under shelter all the time, and
all his course is lined with the prettiest of shops and the most inviting
dining-houses.
There is a wide and lengthy court, glittering with the most wickedly
enticing shops, which is roofed with glass, high aloft over head, and
paved with soft- toned marbles laid in graceful figures ; and at night,
HOW SHE FOOLED US.
490 A TRAMP ABROAD.
when this place is brilliant with gas and populous with a sauntering
and chatting and laughing multitude of pleasure-seekers, it is a spectacle
worth seeing.
Everything is on a large scale ; the public buildings, for instance —
and they are architecturally imposing too, as well as large. The big
squares have big bronze monuments in them. At the hotel they
gave us rooms that were alarming for size, and a parlour to match.
It was well the weather required no fire in the parlour, for I think one-
might as well have tried to warm a park. The place would have a.
warm look though in any weather, for the window curtains were of red
silk damask, and the Avails were covered with the same fire-hued
goods — so, also, were the four sofas and the brigade of chairs. The
furniture, the ornaments, the chandeliers, the carpets were all new and
bright and costly. We did not need a parlour at all, but they said
it belonged to the two bedrooms and we might use it if we chose.
Since it Avas to cost nothing, we Avere not averse from using it, of course-
Turin must surely read a good deal, for it has more book stores
to the square rod than any other toAvn I knoAv of. And it has its oavu
share of military folk. The Italian officers' uniforms are very much-
the most beautiful I have ever seen; and as a general thing the
men in them AA r ere as handsome as the clothes. They Avere not large
men, but they had fine forms, fine features, rich olive complexions, and
lustrous black eyes.
For several Aveeks I had been culling all the information I could
about Italy, from tourists. The tourists Avere all agreed upon one
thing — one must expect to be cheated at every turn by the Italians. I
took an evening Avalk in Turin, and presently came across a little
Punch and Judy show in one of the great squares. Twelve or fifteen
people constituted the audience. This miniature theatre Avas not much
bigger than a man's coffin stood on end ; the upper part Avas open and
displayed a tinselled parlour — a good-sized handkerchief Avould have
ansAvered for a drop-curtain; the footlights consisted of a couple of
candle-ends an inch long ; various manikins the size of dolls appeared
on the stage and made long speeches at each other, gesticulating a good
deal, and they generally had a fight before they got through. They
Avere worked by strings from above, and the illusion Avas not perfect,.
A Til AMP ABROAD. 491
for one saw, not only the strings, but the brawny hand that manipulated
tli em — and the actors and actresses all talked in the same voice too.
The audience stood in front of the theatre, and seemed to enjoy the
performance heartily.
When the play was done, a youth in his shirt-sleeves started around
with a small copper saucer to make a collection. I did not know
how much to put in, but thought I would be guided by my pre-
decessors. Unluckily I only had two of these, and they did not help me
much because they did not put in anything. I had no Italian money,
so I put in a small Swiss coin worth about ten cents. The youth finished
his collection trip and emptied the result on the stage ; he had some
very animated talk with the concealed manager, then he came working
his way through the little crowd — seeking me, I thought. I had a mind
to slip away, but concluded I wouldn't ; I would stand my ground, and
confront the villainy, whatever it was. The youth stood before me and
held up that Swiss coin, sure enough, and said something. I did
not understand him, but I judged he was requiring Italian money
of me. The crowd gathered close to listen. I was irritated, and said —
in English of course —
' I know it's Swiss, but you'll take that or none. I haven't any
other.'
He tried to put the coin in my hand, and spoke again. I drew
my hand away, and said —
* No, sir. I know all about you people. You can't play any of your
fraudful tricks on me. If there is a discount on that coin, I am
sorry, but I am not going to make it good. I noticed that some of the
audience didn't pay you anything at all. You let them go without a
word, but you come after me because you think I'm a stranger and
will put up with an extortion rather than have a scene. But you are
mistaken this time — you'll take that Swiss money or none.'
The youth stood there with the coin in his fingers nonplussed and
bewildered ; of course he had not understood a word. An English-
speaking Italian spoke up now, and said —
' You are misunderstanding the boy. He does not mean any
harm. He did not suppose you gave him so much money purposely,
so he hurried back to return you the coin lest you might get away
492 A TRAMP ABROAD.
before you discovered your mistake. Take it, and give him a penny —
chat will make everything smooth again.'
I probably blushed then, for there was occasion. Through the
interpreter I begged the boy's pardon, but I nobly refused to take back
the ten cents. I said I was accustomed to squandering large sums in
that way — it was the kind of person I was. Then I retired to make
a note to the effect that in Italy persons connected with the drama do
not cheat.
'you'll take that ok none.'
The episode with the showman reminds me of a dark chapter in my
history. I once robbed an aged and blind beggar-woman of four
dollars — in a church. It happened in this way. "When I was out
with the Innocents Abroad, the ship stopped in the Eussian port of
Odessa, and I went ashore with others to view the town. I got
separated from the rest, and wandered about, alone, until late in the
A TRAMP ABROAD. 493
afternoon, when I entered a Greek church to see what it was like.
When I was ready to leave, I observed two wrinkled old women standing
stiffly upright, against the inner wall, near the door, with their brown
palms open to receive alms. I contributed to the nearer one, and
passed out. I had gone fifty yards, perhaps, when it occurred to me
that I must remain ashore all night, as I had heard that the ship's
business would carry her away at four o'clock and keep her away until
morning. It was a little after four now. I had come ashore with only
two pieces of money, both about the same size, but differing largely
in value — one was a French gold piece worth four dollars, the other
a Turkish coin worth two cents and a half. With a sudden and
horrified misgiving, I put my hand in my pocket, now, and sure enough
I fetched out that Turkish penny !
Here was a situation. A hotel would require pay in advance — I
must walk the streets all night, and perhaps be arrested as a suspicious
character. There was but one way out of the difficulty — I flew back
to the church, and softly entered. There stood the old women yet,
and in the palm of the nearest one still lay my gold piece. I was
grateful. I crept close, feeling unspeakably mean ; I got my Turkish
penny ready, and was extending a trembling hand to make the nefarious
exchange, when I heard a cough behind me. I jumped back as if I
had been accused, and stood quaking while a worshipper entered and
passed up the aisle.
I was there a year trying to steal that money ; that is, it seemed
a year, though of course it must have been much less. The worshippers
went and came ; there were hardly ever three in the church at once,
but there was always one or more. Every time I tried to commit my
crime somebody came in or somebody started out, and I was prevented ;
but at last my opportunity came, for one moment there was nobody
in the church but the two beggar-women and me. I whipped the gold
piece out of the poor old pauper's palm and dropped my Turkish
penny in its place. Poor old thing, she murmured her thanks — they
smote me to the heart. Then I sped away in a guilty hurry, and even
when I was a mile from the church I was still glancing back, every
moment, to see if I was being pursued.
That experience has been of priceless value and benefit to me ;
401
A TRAMP ABROAD.
for I resolved then, that as long as I lived I would never again rob a
blind beggar-woman in a church ; and I have always kept my word.
The most permanent lessons in morals are those which come not of
booky teaching, but of experience.
FOBBING A. B EC! GAP,
A TRAMP ABROAD. 405
CHAPTER XLVI1L
In Milan we spent most of our time in the vast and beautiful Arcade
or Gallery, or whatever it is called. Blocks of tall new buildings of
the most sumptuous sort, rich with decoration and graced with, statues,
the streets between these blocks roofed over with glass at a great
height, the pavements all of smooth and variegated marble, arranged
in tasteful patterns — little tables all over these marble streets, people
sitting at them, eating, drinking, or smoking — crowds of other people
strolling by — such is the Arcade. I should like to live in it all the
time. The windows of the sumptuous restaurants stand open, and one
breakfasts there and enjoys the passing show.
We wandered all over the town, enjoying whatever was going on in
the streets. We took one omnibus ride, and as I did not speak Italian
and could not ask the price, I held out some copper coins to the con-
ductor, and he took two. Then he went and got his tariff- card and
showed me that he had taken only the right sum. So I made a note —
Italian omnibus conductors do not cheat.
Near the cathedral I saw another instance of probity. An old man
was peddling dolls and toy fans. Two small American children bought
fans, and one gave the old man a franc and three copper coins, and both
started away ; but they were called back, and the franc and one of the
coppers were restored to them. Hence it is plain that in Italy parties
connected with the drama, and with the omnibus and toy interests do
not cheat.
The stocks of goods in the shops were not extensive, generally.
In the vestibule of what seemed to be a clothing store, we saw eight
or ten wooden dummies grouped together, clothed in woollen business-
suits, and each suit marked . with its price. One suit was marked
forty-five francs — nine dollars. Harris stepped in, and said he wanted
496
A TRAMP ABROAD.
DISHONEST ITALi.
a suit like that. Nothing easier ; the old merchant dragged in the
dummy, brushed him off with a broom, stripped him, and shipped the
: clothes to the hotel. He
said he did not keep two
suits of the same kind in
stock, but manufactured a
second when it was
needed to re-clothe the
dummy.
In another quarter we
found six Italians engaged
in a violent quarrel. They
danced fiercely about,
gesticulating with their
heads, their arms, their
legs, their whole bodies ; they would rush forward occasionally in a
sudden access of passion and shake their fists in each other's very faces.
We lost half an hour there, waiting
to help cord up the dead, but they
finally embraced each other affec-
tionately, and the trouble was all
over. The episode was interesting,
but we could not have afforded all
that time to it if we had known
nothing was going to come of it
but a reconciliation. Note made —
in Italy, people who quarrel cheat
the spectator.
We had another disappointment
afterwards. We approached a
deeply interested crowd, and in the
midst of it found a fellow wildly
chattering and gesticulating over a
box on the ground, which was '
covered with a piece of old blanket.
Every little while he would bend
down and take hold of the edjje
STOCK IN TBADE.
A TRAMP ABROAD.
497
of the blanket with the extreme tips of his fingers, as if to show-
there was no deception — chattering away all the while — but always,
just as I was expecting to see a wonderful feat of legerdemain, he
would let go the blanket and rise to explain further. However, at
last he uncovered the box and got out a spoon with a liquid in it, and
held it fair and frankly around, for people to see that it was all right
and he was taking no advantage — his chatter became more excited than
ever. I supposed he was going to set fire to the liquid and swallow
it, so I was greatly wrought up and interested. I got a cent ready
in one hand and a florin in the other, intending to give him the former
if he survived and the latter if
he killed himself — for his loss
would be my gain in a literary
way, and I was willing to pay a
fair price for the item — but this
impostor ended his intensely mov-
ing performance by simply adding
some powder to the liquid and
polishing the spoon ! Then he
held it aloft, and he could not
have shown a wilder exultation
if he had achieved an immortal
miracle. The crowd applauded
in a gratified way, and it seemed
to me that history speaks the truth
when it says these children of the
South are easily entertained.
We spent an impressive hour
in the noble cathedral, where long
shafts of tinted light were cleaving
through the solemn dimness from
the lofty windows, and falling on
a pillar here, a picture there, and
a kneeling worshipper yonder.
The organ was muttering, censers
were swinging, candles were glinting on the distant altar, and the
robed priests were filing silently past them. The scene was one to
h. K
498
A TRAMP ABROAD.
sweep all frivolous thoughts away, and steep the soul in a holy calm.
A trim young American lady paused a yard or two from me, fixed
her eyes on the mellow sparks flecking the far-off altar, bent her head
reverently a moment, then straightened up, kicked her train into the
air with her heel, caught it deftly in her hand, and marched briskly out.
We visited the picture galleries and the other regulation ' sights '
of Milan — not because I wanted to write about them again, but to
see if I had learned anything in twelve years. I afterwards visited
tl>e great galleries of Rome and Florence for the same purpose. I
lound I had learned one thing. When I wrote about the Old Masters
SPECIMENS FKOM OLD MASTEES.
ore, I said the copies were better than the originals. That was a
ptake of large dimensions. The Old Masters were still unpleasing
/ me, but they were truly divine contrasted with the copies. The
copy is to the original as the pallid, smart, inane new waxwork group
is to the vigorous, earnest, dignified group of living men and women
whom it professes to duplicate. There is a mellow richness, a subdued
colour, in the old pictures, which is to the eye what muffled and
mellowed sound is to the ear. That is the merit which is most loudly
praised in the old picture, and is the one which the copy most con-
spicuously lacks, and which the copyist must not hope to compass. It
was generally conceded by the artists with whom I talked, that that
subdued splendour, that mellow richness, is imparted to the picture by
age. Then why should we worship the Old Master for it, who didn't
A TRAMP ABROAD. 499
impart it, instead of worshipping Old Time, who did ? Perhaps the
picture was a clanging bell until Time muffled it and sweetened it.
In conversation with an artist in Venice, I asked —
1 What is it that people see in the Old Masters ? I have been in
the Doges' Palace, and I saw several acres of very bad drawing, very-
bad perspective, and very incorrect proportions. Paul Veronese's dogs
do not resemble dogs ; all the horses look like bladders on legs ; one
man had a right leg on the left side of his body ; in the large picture,
where the Emperor (Barbarossa ?) is prostrate before the Pope, there
are three men in the foreground who are over thirty feet high, if one
may judge by the size of a kneeling little boy in the centre of the fore-
ground ; and according to the same scale, the Pope is seven feet high,
and the Doge is a shrivelled dwarf of four feet.'
The artist said —
' Yes, the Old Masters often drew badly ; they did not care much
for truth and exactness in minor details. But, after all, in spite of
bad drawing, bad perspective, bad proportions, and a choice of subjects
which no longer appeal to people as strongly as they did three hundred
years ago, there is a something about their pictures which is divine — a
something which is above and beyond the art of any epoch since — a
something which would be the despair of artists, but that they never
-hope or expect to attain it, and therefore do not worry about it.'
That is what he said — and he said what he believed; and not
only believed, but felt.
Reasoning — especially reasoning without technical knowledge — must
be put aside in cases of this kind. It cannot assist the inquirer. It
-will lead him, in the most logical progression, to what, in the eyes of
artists, would be a most illogical conclusion. Thus, bad drawing, bad
(proportion, bad perspective, indifference to truthful detail, colour which
: gets its merit from time, and not from the artist — these things constitute
the Old Master ; conclusion, the Old Master was a bad painter, the Old
Master was not an Old Master at all, but an Old Apprentice. Your
friend the artist will grant your premises, but deny your conclusion ;
•he will maintain that notwithstanding this formidable list of confessed
defects, there is still a something that is divine and unapproachable
about the Old Master, and that there is no arguing the fact away
would create an insurrection in a poorhouse ; and yet if you go outside to get
your meals that hotel makes up its loss by overcharging you on all sorts of
trifles — and without making any denials or excuses about it either. But the
Hotel de Yille's old excellent reputation still keeps its dreary rooms
crowded with travellers who would be elsewhere if they had only had som&
wise friend to warn them.
APPENDIX B.
HEIDELBERG CASTLE.
Heldelbekg Castle must have been very beautiful before the French
battered and bruised and scorched it two hundred years ago. The stone
is brown, with a pinkish tint, and does not seem to stain easily. The dainty
and elaborate ornamentation upon its two chief fronts is as delicately carved
as if it had been intended for the interior of a drawing-room rather than
for the outside of a house. Many fruit and flower-clusters, human heads,
and grim projecting lion's heads are still as perfect in every detail as if they
were new. But the statues which are ranked between the windows have
suffered. These are life-size statues of old-time emperors, electors, and
similar grandees, clad in mail and bearing ponderous swords. Some have
lost an arm, some a head, and one poor fellow is chopped off at the middle.
There is a saying that if a stranger will pass over the drawbridge and walk
across the court to the Castle front without saying anything, he can make
a wish and it will be fulfilled. But they say that the truth of this thing
has never had a chance to be proved, for the reason that before any stranger
can walk from the drawbridge to the appointed place, the beauty of the
palace front will extort an exclamation of delight from him.
A ruin must be rightly situated, to be effective. This one could not
have been better placed. It stands upon a commanding elevation, it is buried
in green woods, there is no level ground about it, but on the contrary there ;
are wooded terraces upon terraces, and one looks down through shining >
leaves into profound chasms and abysses where twilight reigns and the sun
cannot intrude. Nature knows how to garnish a ruin to get the best effect.
One of these old towers is split down the middle, and one half has tumbled
aside. It tumbled in such a way as to establish itself in a picturesque
attitude. Then all it lacked was a fitting drapery, and Nature has furnished
that; she has robed the rugged mass in flowers and verdure, and made
it a charm . to t the eye. The standing half exposes its arched and ca-
vernous ruOi- * "to you, like open, toothless mouths ; there, too, the vines
APPENDIX B. 527
*md flowers have done their work of grace. The rear portion of the tower
has not been neglected, either, but is clothed with a clinging garment of
polished ivy which hides the wounds and stains of time. Even the top is
not left bare, but is crowned with a flourishing group of trees and shrubs.
Misfortune has done for this old tower what it has done for the human
character sometimes — improved it.
A gentleman remarked, one day, that it might have been fine to live in
the Castle in the day of its prime, but that we had one advantage which its
vanished inhabitants lacked — the advantage of having a charming ruin
to visit and muse over. But that was a hasty idea. Those people had the
advantage of us. They had the fine Castle to live in, and they could cross
the Rhine valley and muse over the stately ruin of Trifels besides. The
Trifels people, in their day, five hundred years ago, could go and muse over
majestic ruins which have vanished, now, to the last stone. There have
always been ruins, no doubt ; and there have always been pensive people
to sigh over them, and asses to scratch upon them their names and the
important date of their visit. Within a hundred years after Adam left Eden,
the guide probably gave the usual general flourish with his hand and said :
* Place where the animals were named, ladies and gentlemen ; place where
the tree of the forbidden fruit stood ; exact spot where Adam and Eve first
met ; and here, ladies and gentlemen, adorned and hallowed by the names
and addresses of three generations of tourists, we have the crumbling remains
of Cain's altar — fine old ruin ! ' Then, no doubt, he taxed them a shekel
apiece and let them go.
An illumination of Heidelberg Castle is one of the sights of Europe.
The Castle's picturesque shape; its commanding situation, midway up
the steep and wooded mountain side ; its vast size — these features combine
to make an illumination a most effective spectacle. It is necessarily an
expensive show, and consequently rather infrequent. Therefore, whenever
one of these exhibitions is to take place, the news goes about in the papers,
and Heidelberg is sure to be full of people on that night. I and my agent
had one of these opportunities, and improved it.
About half-past seven on the appointed evening we crossed the lower
bridge, with some American students, in a pouring rain, and started up
the road which borders the Neunheim side of the river. This roadway was
densely packed with carriages and foot passengers ; the former of all ages,
and the latter of all ages and both sexes. This black and solid mass was
struggling painfully onward, through the slop, the darkness, and the deluge.
We waded along for three-quarters of a mile, and finally took up a position
in an unsheltered beer-garden directly opposite the Castle. We could
not see the Castle — or anything else, for that matter — but we could dimly
discern the outlines of the mountain over the way, throir ^pervading
blackness, and knew whereabouts the Castle was located /e stood on
528 A TRAMP ABROAD.
one of the hundred benches in the garden, under our umbrellas ; the other
ninety-nine were occupied by standing men and women, and they also had
umbrellas. All the region round about, and up and down the river-road,,
was a dense wilderness of humanity hidden under an unbroken pavement
of carriage tops and umbrellas. Thus we stood during two drenching hours
No rain fell on my head, but the converging whalebone points of a dozen
neighbouring umbrellas poured little cooling streams of water down my neck,
and sometimes into my ears, and thus kept me from getting hot and.
impatient. I had the rheumatism, too, and had heard that this was good
for it. Afterwards, however, I was led to believe that the water treatment
is not good for rheumatism. There were even little girls in that dreadful,
place. A man held one in his arms, just in front of me, for as much as an
hour, with umbrella-drippings soaking into her clothing all the time.
In the circumstances, two hours was a good while for us to have to-
wait, but when the illumination did at last come, we felt repaid. It
came unexpectedly, of course— things always do that have been long looked,
and longed for. With a perfectly breath-taking suddenness several vast
sheaves of vari-coloured rockets were vomited skyward out of the black
throats of the Castle towers, accompanied by a thundering crash of sound,
and instantly every detail of the prodigious ruin stood revealed against the
mountain side and glowing with an almost intolerable splendour of fire and.
colour. For some little time the whole building was a blinding crimson
mass, the towers continued to spout thick columns of rockets aloft, and.
overhead the sky was radiant with arrowy bolts which clove their way
to the zenith, paused, curved gracefully downward, then burst into brilliant
fountain sprays of richly coloured sparks. The red fires died slowly down-
within the Oastle, and presently the shell grew nearly black outside ; the
angry glare that shone out through the broken arches and innumerable
sashless windows now reproduced the aspect which the Castle must have
borne in the old time when the French spoilers saw the monster bonfire
which they had made there fading and smouldering towards extinction.
While we still gazed and enjoyed, the ruin was suddenly enveloped in
rolling and tumbling volumes of vaporous green fire ; then in dazzling
purple ones ; then a mixture of many colours followed, and drowned
the great fabric in its blended splendours. Meantime the nearest bridge
had been illuminated, and from several rafts anchored in the river meteor
showers of rockets, Eoman candles, bombs, serpents, and Catharine wheels
were being discharged in wasteful profusion into the sky — a marvellous sight
indeed to a person as little used to such spectacles as I was. For a while
the whole region about us seemed as bright as day, and yet the rain was-
falling in torrents all the time. The evening's entertainment presently
closed, and we joined the innumerable caravan of half-drowned spectators,
and waded home again.
APPENDIX B. 529
The Castle grounds are very ample and very beautiful ; and as they joined
the hotel grounds, with no fences to climb, but only some nobly shaded
stone stairways to descend, we spent a part of nearly every day in idling'
through their smooth walks and leafy groves. The:e was an attractive
spot among the trees where were a great many wooden tab!es and
benches ; and there one could sit in the shade and pretend to sip at hi9
foamy beaker of beer while he inspected the crowd. I say pretend,
because I only pretended to sip, without really sipping. That is the polite
way ; but when you are ready to go, you empty the beaker at a draught.
There was a brass band, and it furnished excellent music every afternoon.
Sometimes so many people came that every seat was occupied, every table
filled. And never a rough in the assemblage — all nicely dressed fathers and
mothers, young gentlemen and ladies and children ; and plenty of university
students and glittering officers ; with here and there a grey professor, or
a peaceful old lady with her knitting ; and always a sprinkling of gawky
foreigners. Everybody had his glass of beer before him, or his cup of
coffee, or his bottle of wine, or his hot cutlet and potatoes ; young ladies
chatted, or fanned themselves, or wrought at their crocheting or embroider-
ing ; the students fed sugar to their dogs, or discussed duels, or illustrated
new fencing-tricks with their little canes ; and everywhere was comfort and
enjoyment, and everywhere peace and goodwill to men. The trees were
jubilant with birds, and the paths with rollicking children. One could
have a seat in that place and plenty of music, any afternoon, for about
eight cents or a family ticket for the season for two dollars.
For a change, when you wanted one, you could stroll to the Castle, and
burrow among its dungeons, or climb about its ruined towers, or visit its
interior shows — the great Heidelberg Tun, for instance. Everybody has
heard of the great Heidelberg Tun, and most people have seen it, no doubt.
It is a wine-cask as big as a cottage, and some traditions say it holds
eighteen hundred thousand bottles, and other traditions say it holds
eighteen hundred million barrels. I think it likely that one of these state-
ments is a mistake, and the other one a lie. However, the mere matter of
capacity is a thing of no sort of consequence, since the cask is empty, and
indeed has always been empty, history says. An empty cask the size of a
cathedral could excite but little emotion in me. I do not see any wisdom in
building a monster cask to hoard up emptiness in, when you can get a
better quality, outside, any day, free of expense. What could this cask have
been built for ? The more one studies over that, the more uncertain and
unhappy he becomes. Some historians say that thirty couples, some say-
thirty thousand couples, can dance on the head, of this cask at the same time.
Even this does not seem to me to account for the building of it. It does
not even throw light on it. A profound and scholarly Englishman — a
specialist — who had made the great Heidelberg Tim his sole study for
M M
530
A TRAMP ABROAD.
fifteen years, told me he had at last satisfied himself that the ancients "built
it to make German cream in. He said that the average German cow yielded
from one to two and a half teaspoonfuls of milk, when she was not worked
in the plough or the hay waggon more than eighteen or nineteen hours a
day. This milk was very sweet and good, and of a beautiful transparent
"bluish tint ; but in order to get cream from it in the most economical way, a
peculiar process was necessary. Now he believed that the habit of the
GREAT HEIDELBERG TUX.
ancients was to collect several milkings in a teacup, pour it into the Great
Tun, fill up with water, and then skim off the cream from time to time as
the needs of the German Empire demanded.
This began to look reasonable. It certainly began to account for the
German cream which I had encountered and marvelled over in so many
hotels and restaurants. But a thought struck me —
' Why did not each ancient dairyman take his own teacup of milk and
his own cask of water, and mix them, without making a government matter
of it ? '
APPENDIX B. 631
1 Where could he get a cask large enough to contain the light pro-
portion of water ? '
1 Very true.' It was plain that the Englishman had studied the matter
from all sides. Still I thought I might catch him on one point ; so I
asked him why the modern empire did not make the nation's cream in
the Heidelberg Tun, instead of leaving it to rot away unused. But he
answered as one prepared —
' A patient and diligent examination of the modern German cream has
satisfied me that they do not use the Great Tun now, because they have got
a bigger one hidden away somewhere. Either that is the case, or they
-empty the spring milkings into the mountain torrents, and then skim the
Khine all summer.'
There is a museum of antiquities in the Castle, and among its most
treasured relics are ancient manuscripts connected with German history.
There are hundreds of these, and their dates stretch back through many
centuries. One of them is a decree signed and sealed by the hand of a
successor of Charlemagne in the year 896. A signature made by a hand
which vanished out of this- life near a thousand years ago is a more
impressive thing than even a ruined castle. Luther's wedding-ring was
shown me; also a fork belonging to a time anterior to our era, and an early
bootjack. And there was a plaster cast of the head of a man who was
assassinated about sixty years ago. The stab-wounds in the face were
duplicated with unpleasant fidelity. One or two real hairs still remained
sticking in the eyebrows of the cast. That trifle seemed to almost
change the counterfeit into a corpse.
There are many aged portraits — some valuable, some worthless ; some
of great interest, some of none at all. I bought a couple — one a gorgeous
duke of the olden time, and the other a comely blue-eyed damsel, a princess,
may be. I bought them to start a portrait gallery of my ancestors with.
I paid a dollar and a half for the duke, and two and a half for the princess.
One can lay in ancestors at even cheaper rates than these, in Europe
if he will mouse among old picture shops, and look out for chances.
mm2
APPENDIX C.
THE COLLEGE PRLSON.
It seems ih.nl the student may break a good many of the public laws without
having to answer to the public authorities. His case must come before the
University for trial and punishment. If a policeman catches him in an
unlawful act and proceeds to arrest him, the offender proclaims that he
is a student, and perhaps shows his matriculation card, whereupon the
officer asks for his address, then goes his way, and reports the matter at
headquarters. If the offence is one over which the city has no jurisdic-
tion, the authorities report the case officially to the University, and give
themselves no further concern about it. The University court send for the
student, listen to the evidence, and pronounce judgment. The punishment
usually inflicted is imprisonment in the University prison. As I under-
stand it, a student's case is often tried without his being present at all.
Then something like this happens : A constable in the service of the Uni-
versity visits the lodgings of the said student, knocks, is invited to come
in, does so, and says politely—
'If you please, I am here to conduct you to prison.'
' Ah,' says the student, ' I was not expecting it. What have I been
doing ? '
k Two weeks ago the public peace had the honour to be disturbed by
you.'
< It is true ; I had forgotten it. Very well ; I have been complained
of, tried, and found guilty- -is that it ? '
' Exactly. You are sentenced to two days' solitary confinement in the
college prison, and I am sent to fetch you.
Student. ' Oh, I can't go to-day ! '
Officer. l If you please— why ? '
Student. < Because I've got an engagement.'
Officer. i To-morrow, then, perhaps ? '
Student. ' No, I am going to the opera to-morrow/
APPENDIX C. 533
Officer. ' Could you come Friday ? '
Student. (Reflectively.) ' Let nie see— Friday— Friday. I don't seem to
have anything on hand Friday.'
Office?'. * Then, if you please, I will expect you on Friday.'
Student. * All right, I'll come around Friday.'
Officer. * Thank you. Good day, sir.'
Student. ' Good day.'
So on Friday the student goes to the prison of his own accord, and is
admitted.
It is questionable if the world's criminal history can show a custom
more odd than this. Nohody knows, now, how it originated. There have
always "been many noblemen among the students, and it is presumed that all
students are gentlemen ; in the old times it was usual to mar the con-
venience of such folk as little as possible ; perhaps this indulgent custom
owes its origin to this.
One day I was listening to some conversation upon this subject, when
an American student said that for some time he had been under sentence for
a slight breach of the peace and had promised the constable that he would
presently find an unoccupied day and betake himself to prison. I asked the
young gentleman to do me the kindness to go to jail as soon as he con-
veniently could, so that I might try to get in there and visit him, and see
what college-captivity was like. He said he would appoint the very first
day he could spare.
His confinement was to endure twenty- four hours. He shortly chose
his day, and sent me word. I started immediately. When I reached the
University Place, 1 saw two gentlemen talking together, and as they had
portfolios under their arms I judged they were tutors or elderly students; so
I asked them in English to show me the college jail. I had learned
to take it for granted that anybody in Germany who knows anything
knows English, so I had stopped afflicting people with my German. These
gentlemen seemed a trifle amused — and a trifle confused, too — but one of
them said he would walk around the corner with me and show me the place.
He asked me why I wanted to get in there, and I said, to see a friend — and
for curiosity. He doubted if I would be admitted, but volunteered to put
in a word or two for me with the custodian.
He rang the bell, a door opened, and we stepped into a paved way and
then into a small living-room, where we were received by a hearty and good-
natured German woman of fifty. She threw up her hands with a surprised
* Ach Gott, Herr Professor ! ' and exhibited a mighty deference for my new
acquaintance. By the sparkle in her eye I judged she was a good deal
amused, too. The ' Herr Professor ' talked to her in German, and I under-
stood enough of it to know that he was bringing very plausible reasons to
bear for admitting me. They were successful. So the Herr Professor
534
A TRA3IP ABROAD.
received my earnest thanks and departed. The old dame got her keys,,
took me up two or three flights of stairs, unlocked a door, and we stood in.
the presence of the criminal. Then she went into a jolly and eager descrip-
tion of all that had occurred downstairs, and what the Herr Professor had
said, and so forth and so on. Plainly she regarded it as quite a superior joke-
that I had waylaid a Professor and employed him in so odd a service.
But I wouldn't have done it if I had known he was a Professor ; there-
fore my conscience was not disturbed.
Now the dame left us to ourselves. The cell was not a roomy one ; still
it was a little larger than an ordinary prison cell. It had a window of
good size, iron-grated ; a small stove ; two wooden chairs ; two oaken tables,,
very old and most elaborately carved with names, mottoes, faces, armorial
bearings, etc. — the work of several generations of imprisoned students \
and a narrow wooden bedstead with a villanous old straw mattress, but no
sheets, pillows, blankets or coverlets-
— for these the student mutst furnish
at his own cost if he wants them.
There was no carpet, of course.
The ceiling was completely covered
with names, dates, and monograms,
done with candle- smoke. The walls
were thickly covered with pictures
and portraits (in profile), some done
with ink, some with soot, some with
a pencil, and some with red, blue,
and green chalks ; and wherever an
inch or two of space had remained
between the pictures, the captives
had written plaintive verses, or
names and dates. I do not think I
was ever in a more elaborately
frescoed apartment.
Against the wall hung a placard
containing the prison laws. I made
a note of one or two of these. For
instance: The prisoner must pay,
for the 'privilege' of entering, a
sum equivalent to 20 cents of our
bismaeck in prison. money; for the privilege of leav-
ing, when his term has expired, 20 cents ; for every day spent in the prison,
12 cents ; for fire and light, 12 cents a day. The jailor furnishes coffee,
mornings, for a small sum; dinners and suppers may be ordered from
outside if the prisoner chooses — and he is allowed to pay for them, too.
APPENDIX C. 535
Here arid there, on the walls, appeared the names of American students,
and in one place the American arms and motto were displayed in coloured
chalks.
With the help of my friend I translated many of the inscriptions. Some
of them were cheerful, others the reverse. I will give the reader a few
specimens : —
1 In my tenth semestre (my best one), I am cast here through the com-
plaints of others. Let those who follow me take warning.'
1 III Tage ohne Grund angeblich aus Neugierde.' Which is to say,
he had a curiosity to know what prison-life was like ; so he made a breach
in some law and got three days for it. It is more than likely that he
never had the same curiosity again.
(Translation.) ' E. Glinicke, four days for being too eager a spectator of
a row.'
N N
516 A TRAMP ABROAD.
Propensity, Inhalation, Disposition ; but that thing which it does not mean,
when all its legitimate pendants have been hung on, has not been discovered yet.
One cannot over-estimate the usefulness of Schlag and Zug, Armed
just with these two, and the word Also, what cannot the foreigner on
German soil accomplish ? The German word Also is the equivalent of the
English phrase ' You know,' and does not mean anything at all — in talk,
though it sometimes does in print. Every time a German opens his mouth
an Also falls out ; and every time he shuts it he bites one in two that was-
trying to get out.
Now, the foreigner, equipped with these three noble words, is master
of the situation. Let him talk right along, fearlessly; let him pour his
indifferent German forth, and when he lacks for a word, let him heave a
Schlag into the vacuum : all the chances are, that it fits it like a plug ; but
if it doesn't, let him promptly heave a Zug after it ; the two together can
hardly fail to bung the hole ; but if, by a miracle, they should fail, let him
simply say Also ! and this will give him a moment's chance to think of the
needful word. In Germany when you load your conversational gun it is
always best to throw in a Schlag or two and a Zug or two ; because it
doesn't make any difference how much the rest of the charge may scatter,
you are bound to bag something with them. Then you blandly say Also,
and load up again. Nothing gives such an air of grace and elegance and
unconstraint to a German or an English conversation as to scatter it full of
1 Also's ' or ' You knows.'
In my note-book I find this entry : —
July 1. — In the hospital, yesterday, a word of thirteen syllables was
successfully removed from a patient — a North-German from near Hamburg ;
but as most unfortunately the surgeons had opened him in the wrong place,
under the impression that he contained a panorama, he died. The sad event
has cast a gloom over the whole community.
That paragraph furnishes a text for a few remarks about one of the
most curious and notable features of my subject — the length of German
words. Some German words are so long that they have a perspective.
Observe these examples : —
Freundschaftsbezeigungen.
Dilletantenaufdringlichkeiten.
Stadtverordnetenversammlungen.
These things are not words, they are alphabetical processions. And they
are not rare ; one can open a German newspaper any time and see them
marching majestically across the page — and if he has any imagination he
can see the banners and hear the music, too. They impart a martial thrill
to the meekest subject. I take a great interest in these curiosities. When-
ever I come across a good one, I stuff it and put it in my museum. In
APPENDIX D.
647
this way I have made quite a valuable collection. When I get duplicates, J
exchange with other collectors, and thus increase the variety of my stock.
Here are some specimens which I lately bought at an auction sale of the
effects of a bankrupt bric-a-brac hunter : —
Generalstaatsverordnetenversammltjngen.
Alterthtjmswissexschafiex.
KlKDERBEWAHRTJXGSANSTALTEtf.
Unabhaengigkeitserklaertjngen-.
WlEDERHERSTELLUffGSBESTREBTTNGEN.
"Waepensttllstandsunterhandlungen.
Of course when one of these grand mountain ranges goes stretching across
the printed page, it adorns and ennobles that literary landscape — but at the
same time it is a great distress to the new student, for it blocks up his way ;
he cannot crawl under it, or climb over it, or tunnel through it. So he
A COMPLETE WORD.
resorts to the dictionary for help ; but there is no help there. The dictionary
must draw the line somewhere — so it leaves this sort of words out. And it
is right, because these long things are hardly legitimate words, but are
rather combinations of words, and the inventor of them ought to have
been killed. They are compound words, with the hyphens left out. The
various words used in building them are in the dictionary, but in a very
scattered condition so you can hunt the materials out, one by one, and get
at the meaning at last, but it is a tedious and harassing business. I have
tried this process upon some of the above examples. ' Freundschaftsbezei-
gungen ' seems to be ' Friendshipdemonstrations,' which is only a foolish and
clumsy way of saying ' demonstrations of friendship.' ' Unabhaengigkeitser-
klaerungen ' seems to be ' Independencedeclarations,' which is no improve-
ment upon ' Declarations of Independence,' as far as I can see. ' General-
staatsverordnetenversammlungen ' seems to be ' Generalstatesrepresentatives-
meetin'gs,' as nearly as I can get at it — a mere rhythmical, gushy euphuism
NN 2
548 A TRAMP ABROAD.
for ' meetings of the legislature/ I j udge. We used to have a good deal of
this sort of crime in our literature, but it has gone out now. We used to
speak of a tning as a 'never-to-he-forgotten ' circumstance, instead of cramp-
ing it into the simple and sufficient word 'memorable,' and then going
calmly about our business as if nothing had happened. In those days we
were not content to embalm the thing and bury it decently, we wanted to
build a monument over it.
But in our newspapers the compounding-disease lingers a little to the
present day, but with the hyphens left out, in the German fashion. This is
the shape it takes : instead of saying ' Mr. Simmons, clerk of the county
and district courts, was in town yesterday/ the new form puts it thus:
' Clerk of the County and District Court Simmons was in town yesterday.'
This saves neither time nor ink, and has an awkward sound besides. One
often sees a remark like this in our papers : f Mrs. Assistant District Attorney
Johnson returned to her city residence yesterday for the season.' That is
a case of really unjustifiable compounding ; because it not only saves no time
or trouble, but confers a title on Mrs. Johnson which she has no right to.
But these little instances are trifles indeed, contrasted with the ponderous
and dismal German system of piling jumbled compounds together. I wish
to submit the following local item, from a Mannheim journal, by way of
illustration : —
'In the daybeforeyesterdayshortlyaftereleveno 'clock Night, the inthis-
townstandingtavern called " The Waggoner " was downburnt. When the
fire to the onthedownburninghouseresting Stork's Nest reached, flew the
parent Storks away. But when the bytheraging, firesurrounded Nest itself
caught Fire, straightway plunged the quickreturning Mother-Stork into the
Flames and died, her Wings over her young ones outspread.'
Even the cumbersome German construction is not able to take the pathos
out of that picture — indeed it somehow seems to strengthen it. This item
is dated away back yonder months ago. I could have used it sooner, but I
was waiting to hear from the Father-Stork. I am still waiting.
' Also ! ' If I have not shown that the German is a difficult language, I
have at least intended to do it. I have heard of an American student who
was asked how he was getting along with his German, and who answered
promptly : ' I am not getting along at all. I have worked at it hard for
three level months, and all I have got to show for it is one solitary German
phrase — " Zwei glas " ' (two glasses of beer). He paused a moment, reflec-
tively, then added with feeling, ' But I have got that solid ! '
And if I have not also shown that German is a harassing and infuriating
study, my execution has been at fault, and not my intent. I heard lately
of a worn and sorely tried American student who used to fly to a certain
German word for relief when he could bear up under his aggravations no
longer — the only word in the whole language whose sound was sweet and
APPENDIX D. 549
precious to his ear and healing to his lacerated spirit. This was the word
Damit. It was only the sound that helped him, not the meaning ; 1 and so,
at last, when he learned that the emphasis was not on the first syllable,
his only stay and support was gone, and he faded away and died.
I think that a description of any loud, stirring, tumultuous episode must
be tamer in German than in English. Our descriptive words of this character
have such a deep, strong, resonant sound, while their German equivalents
do seem so thin and mild and energyless. Boom, burst, crash, roar, storm,
bellow, blow, thunder, explosion ; howl, cry, shout, yell, groan ; battle, hell.
These are magnificent words ; they have a force and magnitude of sound
befitting the things which they describe. But their German equivalents
would be ever so nice to sing the children to sleep with, or else my awe-
inspiring ears were made for display and not for superior usefulness in
analysing sounds. Would any man want to die in a battle which was called
by so tame a term as a Schlacht ? Or would not a consumptive feel too
much bundled up, who was about to go out, in a shirt collar and a seal ring,
into a storm which the bird-song word Gewitter was employed to describe?
And observe the strongest of the several German equivalents for explosion —
Ausbruch. Our word Toothbrush is more powerful than that. It seems to
me that the Germans could do worse than import it into their language to
describe particularly tremendous explosions with. The German word for
hell — Holle — sounds more like helly than anything else; therefore, how
necessarily chipper, frivolous, and unimpressive it is. If a man were told in
German to go there, could he really rise to the dignity of feeling insulted ?
Having now pointed out, in detail, the several vices of this language, I
now come to the brief and pleasant task of pointing out its virtues. The
capitalising of the nouns I have already mentioned. But far before this
virtue stands another — that of spelling a word according to the sound of it.
After one short lesson in the alphabet, the student can tell how any German
word is pronounced, without having to ask ; whereas in our language if a
student should inquire of us ' What does B, 0, W, spell ? ' we should be
obliged to reply, ' Nobody can tell what it spells, when you set it off by itself
— you can only tell by referring to the context and finding out what it sig-
nifies — whether it is a thing to shoot arrows with, or a nod of one's head,
or the forward end of a boat.'
There are some German words which are singularly and powerfully
effective. For instance, those which describe lowly, peaceful, and affec-
tionate home life ; those which deal with love, in any and all forms, from
mere kindly feeling and honest good will toward the passing stranger,
clear up to courtship ; those which deal with outdoor Nature, in its softest
and loveliest aspects — with meadows and forests, and birds and flowers, the
1 It merely means, in its general sense, ' herewith.''
550 A TRAMP ABROAD.
fragrance and sunshine of summer, and the moonlight of peaceful winter
nights ; in a word, those which deal with any and all forms of rest, repose,
and peace ; those also which deal with the creatures and marvels of fairy-
land ; and lastly and chiefly, in those words which express pathos, is the
language surpassingly rich and effective. There are German songs which
can make a stranger to the language cry. That shows that the sound of
the words is correct — it interprets the meanings with truth and with exact-
ness ; and so the ear is informed, and through the ear. the heart.
The Germans do not seem to be afraid to repeat a word when it is the
right one. They repeat it several times, if they choose. That is wise.
But in English when we have used a word a couple of times in a paragraph,
we imagine we are growing tautological, and so we are weak enough to
exchange it for some other word which only approximates exactness, to
escape what we wrongly fancy is a greater blemish. Repetition may be bad,
but surely inexactness is worse.
There are people in the world who will take a great deal of trouble
to point out the faults in a religion or a language, and then go blandly
about their business without suggesting any remedy. I am not that kind of a
person. I have shown that the German language needs reforming. Very
well, I am ready to reform it. At least I am ready to make the proper sug-
gestions. Such a course as this might be immodest in another ; but I have
devoted upwards of nine full weeks, first and last, to a careful and critical
study of this tongue, and thus have acquired a confidence in my ability to
reform it which no mere superficial culture could have conferred upon me.
In the first place, I would leave out the Dative Case. It confuses the
plurals ; and besides, nobody ever knows when he is in the Dative Case,
except he discover it by accident — and then he does not know when or
where it was that he got into it, or how long he has been in it, or how he is
ever going to get out of it again. The Dative Case is but an ornamental
folly — it is better to discard it.
In the next place, I would move the Verb further up to the front. You
may load up with ever so good a Verb, but I notice that you never really
bring down a subject with it at the present German range — you only cripple
it. So I insist that this important part of speech should be brought forward
to a position where it may be easily seen with the naked eye.
Thirdly, I would import some strong words from the English tongue —
to swear with, and also to use in describing all sorts of vigorous things in a
vigorous way. 1
1 ' Verdammt,'' and its variations and enlargements, are words which have
plenty of meaning, but the sounds are so mild and ineffectual that German
ladies can use them without sin. German ladies who could not be induced
to commit a sin by any persuasion or compulsion, promptly rip out one of
APPENDIX D. 551
Fourthly, I would reorganise the sexes, and distribute them according to
the will of the Creator. This as a tribute of respect, if nothing else.
Fifthly, I would do away with those great long conipouuded words ; or
require the speaker to deliver them in sections, with intermissions for refresh-
ments. To wholly do away with them would be best, for ideas are more
easily received and digested when they come one at a time than when they
come in bulk. Intellectual food is like any other ; it is pleasanter and more
beneficial to take it with a spoon than with a shovel.
Sixthly, I would require a speaker to stop when he is done, and not
hang a string of those useless ' haben sind gewesen gehabt haben geworden
seins' to the end of his oration. This sort of gew-gaws undignify a speech,
instead of adding a grace. They are therefore an offence, and should be
discarded.
Seventhly, I would discard the Parenthesis. Also the re-Parenthesis,
the ie-re-parenthesis, and the re-re-re-re-re-re-parentheses, and likewise the
finil wide-reaching all-enclosing King-parenthesis. I would require every
individual, be he high or low, to unfold a plain straightforward tale, or
else coil it and sit on it and hold his peace. Infractions of this law should
be punishable with death.
And eighthly and lastly, I would retain Zug and ScJdag, with their
pendants, and discard the rest of the vocabulary. This would simplify the
language.
I have now named what I regard as the most necessary and important
changes. These are perhaps all I could be expected to name for nothing ;
but there are other suggestions which I can and will make in case my
proposed application shall result in my being formally employed by the
government in the work of reforming the language.
My philological studies have satisfied me that a gifted person ought
to learn English (barring spelling and pronoimcing) in 30 hours, French in
30 days, and German in 30 years. It seems manifest, then, that the latter
tongue ought to be trimmed down and repaired. If it is to remain as it is,
it ought to be gently and reverently set aside among the dead languages,
for only the dead have time to learn it.
these harmless little words when they tear their dresses or don't like the soup.
It sounds about as wicked as our ' My gracious ! ' German ladies are con-
stantly saying, « Ach ! Gott ! ' * Mein Gott ! ' ' Gott in Himmel ! ' 4 Herr
Gott I ' ' Der Herr Jesus ! ' etc. They think our ladies have the same custom
perhaps, for I once heard a gentle and lovely old German lady say to a sweet
young: American girl, ' The two languages are so alike — how pleasant that
is ; we say, " Ach ! Gott ! " you say, " Goddam." '
552 A TRAMP ABROAD.
A Fourth of July Oration or the German Tongue, delivered at a
BANQUET OF THE ANGLO- AMERICAN CLUB OF STUDENTS BY THE AUTHOR
OF THIS BOOK.
Gentlemen: Since I arrived, a month ago, in this old wonderland ,
this vast garden of Germany, my English tongue has so often proved a
useless piece of baggage to me, and so troublesome to carry around, in a
country where they haven't the checking system for luggage, that I finally
set to work, last week, and learned the German language. Also ! Es freut
mich dass dies so ist, denn es muss, in ein hauptsachlich degree, hoflich sein,
dass man auf ein occasion like this, sein Rede in die Sprache des Landes
worin he boards, aussprechen soil. Dafiir habe ich, aus reinische Verlegenheit
— no, Vergangenheit — no, I mean Hoflichkeit — aus reinische HMichkeit
habe ich resolved to tackle this business in the German language, um Gottes
willen ! Also ! Sie miissen so freundlich sein, und verzeih mich die inter-
larding von ein oder zwei Englischer Worte, hie und da, denn ich finde
dass die deutche is not a very copious language, and so when you've really
got anything to say, you've got to draw on a language that can stand the
strain.
"Wenn aber man kann nicht meinem Rede verstehen, so werde ich ihm
spater dasselbe iibersetz, wenn er solche Dienst verlangen wollen haben
werden sollen sein hatte. (I don't know what wollen haben werden sollen
sein hatte means, but I notice they always put it at the end of a German
sentence — merely for general literary gorgeousness, I suppose.)
This is a great and justly honoured day — a day which is worthy of the
veneration in which it is held by the true patriots of all climes and nation-
alities — a day which offers a fruitful theme for thought and speech ; und
meinem Freunde — no, meinew Freunden — meines Freundes — well, take your
choice, they're all the same price; I don't know which one is right — also!
ich habe gehabt haben worden gewesen sein, as Goethe says, in his Paradise
Lost — ich — ich — that is to say — ich — but let us change cars.
Also ! Die Anblick so viele Grossbrittanischer und Amerikanischer
hier zusammengetroffen in Bruderliche concord, ist zwar a welcome and
inspiriting spectacle. And what has moved you to it ? Can the terse Ger-
man tongue rise to the expression of this impulse ? Is it Freundschafts-
bezeigungenstadtverordnetenversammlungenfamilieneigenthiimlich k e i t e m P
Nein, o nein ! This is a crisp und noble word, but it fails to pierce the
marrow of the impulse which has gathered this friendly meeting and pro-
duced diese Anblick — eine Anblick welche ist gut zu sehen — gut fur die
Augen in a foreign land and a far country — eine Anblick solche als in die
gewonliche Heidelberger phrase nennt man ein ' schones Aussicht ! ' Ja,
freilich naturlich wahrscheinlich ebensowohl ! Also ! Die Aussicht auf dem
APPENDIX D. £53
Konigstuhl mehr grosserer ist, aber geistlische sprechend nicht so schon,
lob' Gott ! Because sie sind hier zusamniengetroffen, in Bruderlicliem con-
cord, ein grossen Tag zu feiern, whose high benefits were not for one land
and one locality only, but have conferred a measure of good upon all lands
that know liberty to-day, and love it. Hundert Jahre voriiber, waren die
Englander und die Amerikaner Feinde ; aber heute sind sie herzlichen
Freunde, Gott sei Dank! May this good fellowship endure; may these
banners here blended in amity, so remain ; may they never any more wave
over opposing hosts, or be stained with blood which was kindred, is kindred,
and always will be kindred, until a line drawn upon a map shall be able to
say, '
dant! :
APPEjSTDIX E.
LEGEND GF THE CASTLES
CALLED THE ' SWALLOW'S NEST' AND ' TEE BROTHERS,' AS CONDENSED FROM
THE CAPTAIN'S TALE.
In the neighbourhood of three hundred years ago the Swallow's Nest and
the larger castle between it and Neckarsteinach were owned and occupied by-
two old knights who were twin brothers, and bachelors. They had no
relatives. They were very rich. They had fought through the wars and
retired to private life — covered with honourable scars. They were honest,
honourable men in their dealings, but the people had given them a couple
of nicknames which were very suggestive — Herr Givenaught and Herr
Heartless. The old knights were so proud of these names that if a burgher
called them by their right ones they would correct him.
The most renowned scholar in Europe, at that time, was the Herr Doctor
Franz Reikmann, who lived in Heidelberg. All Germany was proud of
the venerable scholar, who lived in the simplest way, for great scholars are
always poor. He was poor, as to money, but very rich in his sweet young
daughter Hildegarde and his library. He had been all his life collecting
his library, book by book, and he loved it as a miser loves his hoarded gold.
He said the two strings of his heart were rooted, the one in his daughter,
the other in his books ; and that if either were severed he must die. Now
in an evil hour, hoping to win a marriage portion for his child, this simple
old man had entrusted his small savings to a sharper to be ventured in a
glittering speculation. But that was not the worst of it : he signed a paper
— without reading it. That is the way with poets and scholars, they always
sign without reading. This cunning paper made him responsible for heaps
of things. The result was, that one night he found himself in debt to the
sharper eight thousand pieces of gold ! — an amount so prodigious that it
simply stupefied him to think of it. It was a night of woe in that house.
' I must part with my library — I have nothing else. So perishes one
heartstring,' said the old man.
' What will it bring, father ? ' asked the girl.
APPENDIX E. 555
( Nothing ! It is worth seven hundred pieces of gold ; but by auction
it will go for little or nothing.'
' Then you will have parted with the half of your heart and the joy of
your life to no purpose, since so mighty a burden of debt will remain
behind.'
' There is no help for it, my child. Our darlings must pass under the
hammer. We must pay what we can.'
1 My father, I have a feeling that the dear Virgin will come to our help.
Let us not lose heart.'
' She cannot devise a miracle that will turn nothing into eight thousand
gold pieces, and lesser help will bring us little peace.'
1 She can do even greater things, my father. She will save us, I know
she will.'
Toward morning, while the old man sat exhausted and asleep in his
•chair where he had been sitting before his books as one who watcher
by his beloved dead and prints the features on his memory for a solace in
the aftertime of empty desolation, his daughter sprang into the room and
gently woke him, saying —
' My presentiment was true ! She will save us. Three times has she
appeared to me in my dreams, and said, " Go to the Herr Givenaught, go
to the Herr Heartless, ask them to come and bid." There, did I not tell
you she would save us, the thrice blessed Virgin ! '
Sad as the old man was, he was obliged to laugh.
' Thou mightest as well appeal to the rocks their castles stand upon
as to the harder ones that lie in those men's breasts, my child. They bid
on books writ in the learned tongues ! — they can scarce read their own.'
But Hildegarde's faith was in no wise shaken. Bright and early she
was on her way up the Neckar road, as joyous as a bird.
Meantime Herr Givenaught and Herr Heartless were having an early
breakfast in the former's castle — the Sparrow's Nest — and flavouring it
with a quarrel ; for although these twins bore a love for each other which
almost amounted to worship, there was one subject upon which they could
not touch without calling each other hard names — and yet it was the
subject which they oftenest touched upon.
' I tell you,' said Givenaught, ' you will beggar yourself yet, with your
insane squanderings of money upon what you choose to consider poor and
worthy objects. All these years I have implored you to stop this foolish
custom and husband your means, but all in vain. You are always lying
to me about these eecret benevolences, but you never have managed to
deceive me yet. Every time a poor devil has been set upon his feet I have
detected your hand in it — incorrigible ass ! '
* Every time you didn't set him on his feet yourself, you mean. Where
I give one unfortunate a little private lift, you do the same for a dozen.
556 A TRAMP ABROAD.
The idea of your swelling around the country and petting yourself -with
the nickname of Givenaught — intolerable humbug! Before I would be
such a fraud as that, I would cut my right hand off. Your life is a continual
lie. But go on, I have tried my best to save you from beggaring yourself
by your riotous charities — now for the thousandth time I wash my hands
of the consequences. A maundering old fool ! that's what you are.'
1 And you a blethering old idiot ! ' roared Givenaught, springing up.
' I won't stay in the presence of a man who has no more delicacy than
to call me such names. Mannerless swine ! '
So saying, Herr Heartless sprang up, in a passion. But some luckv
accident intervened, as usual, to change the subject, and the daily quarrel
ended in the customary daily loving reconciliation. The grey-headed olu
eccentrics parted, and Herr Heartless walked off to his own castle.
Half an hour later, Hildegarde was standing in the presence of Herr
Givenaught. He heard her story, and said : —
' I am sorry for you, my child, but I am very poor ; I care nothing for
bookish rubbish, I shall not be there.'
He said the hard words kindly, but they nearly broke poor Hildegarde's
heart, nevertheless. When she was gone the old heart-breaker muttered,
rubbing his hands, —
' It was a good stroke. I have saved my brother's pocket this time-
in spite of him. Nothing else would have prevented his rushing off" to
rescue the old scholar, the pride of Germany, from his troubles. The poor
child won't venture near him after the rebuff she has received from his brother,
the Givenaught.'
But he was mistaken. The Virgin had commanded, and Hildegarde
would obey. She went to Herr Heartless and told her story. But he said
coldly, —
' I am very poor, my child, and books are nothing to me. I wish yo 1 "
well, but I shall not come.'
When Hildegarde was gone, he chuckled and said, —
' How my fool of a soft-headed soft-hearted brother would rage if 1
knew how cunningly I have saved his pocket. How he would have Aotv
to the old man's rescue ! But the girl won't venture near him now.'
When Hildegarde reached home, her father asked her how she had
prospered. She said, —
1 The Virgin has promised, and she will keep her word ; but not in tin
way I thought. She knows her own ways, and they are best.'
The old man patted her on the head, and smiled a doubting smile, but h
honoured her for hei brave faith, nevertheless.
APPENDIX E. 657
II.
Next day the people assembled in the great hall of the Ritter tavern,
to witness the auction — for the proprietor had said the treasure of Germany's
most honoured • son should be bartered away in no meaner place. Hil-
degarde and her father sat close to the books, silent and sorrowful, and
holding each other's hands. There was a great crowd of people present.
The bidding began : —
1 How much for this precious library, just as it stands, all complete? '
called the auctioneer.
' Fifty pieces of gold ! '
' A hundred ! '
1 Two hundred ! '
< Three ! '
* Four ! '
* Five hundred ! '
4 Five twenty-five ! '
A brief pause.
1 Five forty ! '
A longer pause, while the auctioneer redoubled his persuasions.
' Five forty-five ! '
A heavy drag — the auctioneer persuaded, pleaded, implored — it was
useless, everybody remained silent : —
' Well, then — going, going — one — two — '
' Five hundred and fifty ! '
This in a shrill voice, from a bent old man, all hung with rags, and
with a green patch over his left eye. Everybody in his vicinity turned
and gazed at him. It was Givenaught in disguise. He was using a
isguised voice, too.
' Good ! ' cried the auctioneer. ' Going, going — one — two,'
1 Five hundred and sixty ! '
This in a deep harsh voice, from the midst of the crowd at the other
ad of the room. The people near by turned, and saw an old man, in a
strange costume, supporting himself on crutches. He wore a long white
beard, and blue spectacles. It was Herr Heartless, in disguise, and using
i disguised voice.
' Good again ! Going, going — one — '
' Six hundred ! '
Sensation. The crowd raised a cheer, and some one cried out, 'Go
, Green-patch!' This tickled the audience and a score of voices shouted,
3o it, Green-patch ! '
' Going — going — going — third and last call — one, two —
558 A TRAMP ABROAD.
1 Seven hundred ! '
' Huzzah ! — well done, Crutches ! ' cried a voice. The crowd took it up,
and shouted all together, ' Well done, Crutches ! '
' Splendid, gentlemen ! you are doing magnificently. Going, going — '
' A thousand ! '
' Three cheers for Green-patch ! Up and at him, Crutches ! '
* Going — going — '
* Two thousand ! '
And while the people cheered and shouted, ' Crutches ' muttered, ' Who
can this devil he, that is fighting so to get these useless hooks? — But no
matter, he shan't have them. The pride of Germany shall have his books
if it beggars me to buy them for him.'
'Going, going, going— '
1 Three thousand ! '
' Come, everybody — give a rouser for Green-patch ! '
And while they did it, Green-patch muttered, ( This cripple is plainly
a lunatic ; but the old scholar shall have his books, nevertheless^ though my
pocket sweat for it.'
* Going — going — '
' Four thousand ! '
« Huzza ! '
' Five thousand ! '
1 Huzza ! '
' Six thousand ! '
< Huzza ! '
' Seven thousand ! '
* Huzza ! '
' Eight thousand ! '
' We are saved, father ! I told you the Holy Virgin would keep her
word ! ' l Blessed be her sacred name ! ' said the old scholar, with emotion
The crowd roared, ' Huzza, huzza, huzza — at him again Green-patch ! '
' Going — going — '
' Ten thousand ! ' As Givenaught shouted this, his excitement was so
great that he forgot himself and used his natural voice. His brother
recognised it, and muttered, under cover of the storm of cheers —
' Aha, you are there, are you, besotted old fool ? Take the books, I know
what you'll do with them.'
So saying, he slipped out of the place, and the auction was at an end.
Givenaught shouldered his way to Hildegarde, whispered a word in her
ear, and then he, also, vanished. The old scholar and his daughter embraced,
and the former said, ' Truly the Holy Mother has done more than she
promised, child, for she has given you a splendid marriage portion — think of
it, two thousand pieces of gold ! '
APPENDIX E. 55i>
'And more still/ cried Hildegarde, 'for she has given you back your
books; the stranger whispered me that he would none of them— "the
honoured son of Germany must keep them," so he said. I would I might
have asked his name and kissed his hand and begged his blessing ; but he
was Our Lady's angel, and it is not meet that we of earth should venture
speech with them that dwell above.'
APPENDIX F.
GERJIAN JOURNALS.
The daily journals of Hamburg, Frankfort, Baden, Munich, and Augsburg7 : .
are all constructed on the same general plan. I speak of these "because I
am more familiar with them than with any other German papers. They :
contain no ' editorials ' whatever ; no ' personals ' — and this is rather a
merit than a demerit, perhaps; no funny-paragraph column; no police 1
court reports ; no reports of proceedings of higher courts ; no information
about prize fights or other dog fights, horse races, walking matches, yacht--'
ing contests, rifle matches, or other sporting matters of any sort ; no report-
of banquet speeches : no department of curious odds and ends of floating-
fact and gossip : no ' rumours ' about anything or anybody ; no prognostica-
tions or prophecies about anything or anybody ; no lists of patents grantee 1
or sought, or any reference to such things ; no abuse of public officials,
big or little, or complaints against them, or praises of them ; no religious
column Saturdays, no re-hash of cold sermons Mondays ; no ' weather
indications:' no 'local item' unveiiings of what is happening in town—,
nothing of a local nature, indeed, is mentioned, beyond the movements of
some prince or the proposed meeting of some deliberative body.
After so formidable a list of what one can't find in a German dailv
the question may well be asked, What can be found in it ? It is easil
answered : A child's handful of telegrams, mainly about European nation
and international political movements; letter-correspondence about th
same things ; market reports. There you have it. That is what a Germr
daily is made of. A German daily is the slowest and saddest and drearies.,
of the inventions of man. Our own dailies infuriate the reader pretty
often : the German daily only stupefies him. Once a week the German
daily of the highest class lightens up its heavy columns — that is, it think. c
it lightens them up — with a profound, an abysmal, book criticism; a •>
criticism which carries you down, down, down, into the scientific bowels :
of the subject — for the German critic is nothing if not scientific — and wheD
APPENDIX F. 561
you come up at last and scent the fresh air and see the bonny daylight once
re, you resolve without a dissenting voice that a hook-criticism is a
■■taken way to lighten up a German daily. Sometimes, in place of
criticism, the first-class daily gives you what it thinks is a gay and
)per essay — about ancient Grecian funeral customs, or the ancient
I ^ptian method of tarring a mummy, or the reasons for believing that
e of the peoples who existed before the flood did not approve of cats.
se are not unpleasant subjects; they are not uninteresting subjects;
f are even exciting subjects — until one of these massive scientists gets
d of them. He soon convinces you that even these matters can be
died in such a way as to make a person low-spirited.
As I have said, the average German daily is made up solely of cor-
, spondence — a trifle of it by telegraph, the rest of it by mail. Every
paragraph has the side-head, ' London,' ' Vienna,' or some other town, and
i date. And always, before the name of the town, is placed a letter or a
^gn, to indicate who the correspondent is, so that the authorities can find
aim when they want to hang him. Stars, crosses, triangles, squares,
'aalf-moons, suns — such are some of the signs used by correspondents.
Some of the dailies move too fast, others too slowly. For instance,
my Heidelberg daily was always twenty-four hours old when it arrived at
tho hotel ; but one of my Munich evening papers used to come a full
.wenty-four hours before it was due.
Some of the less important dailies give one a tablespoonful of a continued
tory every day ; it is strung across the bottom of the page, in the French
bshion. By subscribing for the paper for live years I judge that a man
•night succeed in getting pretty much all of the story.
If you ask a citizen of Munich which is the best Munich daily journal
le will always tell you that there is only one good Munich daily, and that
: t is published in Augsburg, forty or fifty miles away. It is like saying that
he best daily paper in New York is published out in New Jersey some-
'here. Yes, the Augsburg ' Allgemeine Zeitung ' is ' the best Munich
iper,' and it is the one I had in my mind when I was describing a ' first-
ass German daily ' above. The entire paper, opened out, is not quite as
-rge as a single page of the ' New York Herald.' It is printed on both
des of course ; but in such large type that its entire contents could be
t ut, in ' Herald' type, upon a single page of the ' Herald' — and there
would still be room enough on the page for the ' Zeitung's ' Supplement and
some portion of the ' Zeitung's ' next day's contents.
Such is the first-class daily. The dailies actually printed in Munich
ire all called second-class by the public. If you ask which is the best of
these second-class papers they say there is no difference, one is as good as
another. I have preserved a copy of one of them ; it is called the ' Munchener
Tages-Anzeiger,' and bears date January 25, 1879. Comparisons are
o o
L
662 A TRAMP ABROAD.
odious, but they need not be malicious ; and without any malice I wish to
compare this journal, published in a German city of 170,000 inhabitants,
with journals of other countries. I know of no other way to enable the reader
to ' size ' the thing.
A column of an average daily paper in America contains from 1,800
to 2,500 words ; the reading matter in a single issue consists of from 25,000
to 50,000 words. The reading matter in my copy of the Munich journal
consists of a total of 1,654 words— for I counted them. That would be
nearly a column of one of our dailies. A single issue of the bulkiest daily
newspaper in the world — the London ' Times ' — often contains 100,000 words
of reading matter. Considering that the ' Daily Anzeiger ' issues the usual
twenty-six numbers per month, the reading matter in a single number
of the London ' Times ' would keep it in ' copy ' two months and a half !
The ' Anzeiger ' is an eight-page paper : its page is one inch wider and
one inch longer than a foolscap page ; that is to say, the dimensions of its-
page are somewhere between those of a schoolboy's slate and a lady's
pocket-handkerchief. One fourth of the first page is taken up with the
heading of the journal ; this gives it a rather topheavy appearance 5 the
rest of the first page is reading matter ; all of the second page is reading
matter ; the other six pages are devoted to advertisements.
The reading matter is compressed into two hundred and five small-pica
lines, and is lighted up with eight pica nead-lines. The bill of fare is as
follows : First, under a pica head-line to enforce attention and respect, is
a four-line sermon urging mankind to remember that although they are
pilgrims here below, they are yet heirs of heaven ; and that ' When they
depart from earth they soar to heaven.' Perhaps a four-line sermon in a
Saturday paper is tfce sufficient German equivalent of the eight or ten
columns of sermons which the New Yorkers get in their Monday morning
papers. The latest news (two days old) follows the four-line sermon, under
the pica head-line ' Telegrams ' — these are ' telegraphed ' with a pair of
scissors out of the ' Augsburger Zeitung ' of the day before. These telegrams
consist of fourteen and two-thirds lines from Berlin, fifteen lines from
Vienna, and two and five-eighths lines from Calcutta. Thirty-three small
pica lines of telegraphic news in a daily journal in a King's Capital of
170,000 inhabitants, is surely not an overdose,, Next, we have the pica head-
ing, ' News of the Day,' under which the following facts are set forth :
Prince Leopold is going on a visit to Vienna, six lines ; Prince Arnulpk is
coming back from Russia, two lines ; the Landtag will met at ten o'clock in
the morning and consider an election law, three lines and one word over :
a city government item, five and one half lines : prices of tickets to the
proposed grand Charity Ball, twenty-three lines — for this one item occupies
almost one fourth of the entire first page ; there is to be a wonderful Wagner
concert in Frankfurt-on-the-Main, with an orchestra of one hundred and
eight instruments, seven and one half lines. That concludes the first page.
* • ■ I
APPENDIX Bi Vi 563
v 1
Eighty-five lines altogether, on that page, including three head-lines. About
fifty of those lines, as one perceives, deal with local matters ; so the reporters
are not overworked.
Exactly one half of the second page is occupied with an opera criticism,
fifty-three lines (three of them "being head-lines), and ' Death Notices/ ten lines.
The other half of the second page is made up of two paragraphs under
the head of ' Miscellaneous News.' One of these paragraphs tells about a
quarrel between the Czar of Russia and his eldest son, twenty-one and a
half lines ; and the other tells about the atrocious destruction of a peasant
child by its parents, forty hues, or one-fifth of the total of the reading matter
contained in the paper.
Consider what a fifth part of the reading matter of an American daily
paper issued in a city of 170,000 inhabitants amounts to ; think what a mass
it is. Would anyone suppose I could so snugly tuck away such a mass in
a chapter of this book that it would be difficult to find it again if the reader
lost his place ? Surely not. I will translate that child-murder word for
word, to give the reader a realising sense of what a fifth part of the
reading matter of a Munich daily actually is when it comes under measure-
ment of the eye : —
i From Oberkreuzberg, January 21, the "Donau Zeitung" receives a long
account of a crime, which we shorten as follows : In Iiametuach, a village
near* Eppenschlag, lived a young married couple with two children, one of
which, a boy aged five, was born three years before the marriage. For
this reason, and also because a relative at Iggensbach had bequeathed 400
marks (100 dollars) to the boy, the heartless father considered him in the
way ; so the unnatural" parents" determined to sacrifice him in the crudest
possible manner. They proceeded to starve him slowly to death, meantime
frightfully maltreating him — as the village people now make known, when
it is too late. The boy was shut up in a hole, and when people passed by
he cried, and implored them to give him bread. His long continued tortures
and deprivations destroyed him at last, on the 3rd of January. The sudden
{sic) death of the child created suspicion, the more so as the body was
immediately clothed and laid upon the bier. Therefore, the coroner gave
notice, and an inquest was held on the 6th. What a pitiful spectacle was
disclosed then ! The body was a complete skeleton. The stomach and
intestines were utterly empty — they contained nothing whatever. The
flesh on the corpse was not as thick as the back of a knife, and incisions
in it brought not a drop of blood. There was not a piece of sound skin the
size of a dollar on the whole body; wounds, scars, bruises, discoloured
extravasated blood, everywhere — even on the soles of the feet there were
wounds. The cruel parents asserted that the boy had been so bad that they
had been obliged to use severe punishments, and that he finally fell over a
bench and broke his neck. However, they were arrested two weeks after
the inquest, and put in the prison at Deggendorf.'
564
A TRAMP ABROAD.
Yes, tliey were arrested ' two weeks after the inquest.' What a home-
sound that has. That kind of police briskness rather more reminds me of
my native land than German journalism does.
I think a German daily journal doesn't do any good to speak of, but, at
the same time, it doesn't do any harm. That is a very large merit, and
should not be lightly weighed, nor lightly thought of.
The German humorous papers are beautifully printed upon fine paper,
and the illustrations are finely drawn, finely engraved, and are not vapidly
funny, but deliriously so. So, also, generally speaking, are the two or
three terse sentences which accompany the pictures. I remember one of
these pictures — a most dilapidated tramp is ruefully contemplating some
coins which lie in his open palm ; he says, ' Well, begging is getting played
out. Only about 5 marks (1*25 dollars) for the whole day ; many an official
makes more!' And I call to mind a picture of a commercial traveller,
who is about to unroll his samples : —
' Merchant (pettishly). No, don't. I don't want to buy anything.
i Drummer. If you please, I was only going to show you —
1 Merchant. But I don't wish to see them !
' Drummer (after a pause, pleadingly). But do you mind letting me look
at them ? I haven't seen them for three weeks ! '
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