内河航程 英文版 An Inland Voyage
罗伯特.路易斯.史蒂文森 Robert Louis Stevenson
SAMBRE AND OISE CANAL: CANAL BOATS
Next day we made a late start in the rain. The Judge politelyescorted us to the end of the lock under an umbrella. We had nowbrought ourselves to a pitch of humility in the matter of weather,not often attained except in the Scottish Highlands. A rag of bluesky or a glimpse of sunshine set our hearts singing; and when therain was not heavy, we counted the day almost fair.
Long lines of barges lay one after another along the canal; many ofthem looking mighty spruce and shipshape in their jerkin ofArchangel tar picked out with white and green. Some carried gayiron railings, and quite a parterre of flower-pots. Childrenplayed on the decks, as heedless of the rain as if they had beenbrought up on Loch Carron side; men fished over the gunwale, someof them under umbrellas; women did their washing; and every bargeboasted its mongrel cur by way of watch-dog. Each one barkedfuriously at the canoes, running alongside until he had got to theend of his own ship, and so passing on the word to the dog aboardthe next. We must have seen something like a hundred of theseembarkations in the course of that day's paddle, ranged one afteranother like the houses in a street; and from not one of them werewe disappointed of this accompaniment. It was like visiting amenagerie, the Cigarette remarked.
These little cities by the canal side had a very odd effect uponthe mind. They seemed, with their flower-pots and smokingchimneys, their washings and dinners, a rooted piece of nature inthe scene; and yet if only the canal below were to open, one junkafter another would hoist sail or harness horses and swim away intoall parts of France; and the impromptu hamlet would separate, houseby house, to the four winds. The children who played together to-day by the Sambre and Oise Canal, each at his own father'sthreshold, when and where might they next meet?
For some time past the subject of barges had occupied a great dealof our talk, and we had projected an old age on the canals ofEurope. It was to be the most leisurely of progresses, now on aswift river at the tail of a steam-boat, now waiting horses fordays together on some inconsiderable junction. We should be seenpottering on deck in all the dignity of years, our white beardsfalling into our laps. We were ever to be busied among paint-pots;so that there should be no white fresher, and no green more emeraldthan ours, in all the navy of the canals. There should be books inthe cabin, and tobacco-jars, and some old Burgundy as red as aNovember sunset and as odorous as a violet in April. There shouldbe a flageolet, whence the Cigarette, with cunning touch, shoulddraw melting music under the stars; or perhaps, laying that aside,upraise his voice--somewhat thinner than of yore, and with here andthere a quaver, or call it a natural grace-note--in rich and solemnpsalmody.
All this, simmering in my mind, set me wishing to go aboard one ofthese ideal houses of lounging. I had plenty to choose from, as Icoasted one after another, and the dogs bayed at me for a vagrant.At last I saw a nice old man and his wife looking at me with someinterest, so I gave them good-day and pulled up alongside. I beganwith a remark upon their dog, which had somewhat the look of apointer; thence I slid into a compliment on Madame's flowers, andthence into a word in praise of their way of life.
If you ventured on such an experiment in England you would get aslap in the face at once. The life would be shown to be a vileone, not without a side shot at your better fortune. Now, what Ilike so much in France is the clear unflinching recognition byeverybody of his own luck. They all know on which side their breadis buttered, and take a pleasure in showing it to others, which issurely the better part of religion. And they scorn to make a poormouth over their poverty, which I take to be the better part ofmanliness. I have heard a woman in quite a better position athome, with a good bit of money in hand, refer to her own child witha horrid whine as 'a poor man's child.' I would not say such athing to the Duke of Westminster. And the French are full of thisspirit of independence. Perhaps it is the result of republicaninstitutions, as they call them. Much more likely it is becausethere are so few people really poor, that the whiners are notenough to keep each other in countenance.
The people on the barge were delighted to hear that I admired theirstate. They understood perfectly well, they told me, how Monsieurenvied them. Without doubt Monsieur was rich; and in that case hemight make a canal boat as pretty as a villa--joli comme unchateau. And with that they invited me on board their own watervilla. They apologised for their cabin; they had not been richenough to make it as it ought to be.
'The fire should have been here, at this side.' explained thehusband. 'Then one might have a writing-table in the middle--books--and' (comprehensively) 'all. It would be quite coquettish--ca serait tout-a-fait coquet.' And he looked about him as thoughthe improvements were already made. It was plainly not the firsttime that he had thus beautified his cabin in imagination; and whennext he makes a bit, I should expect to see the writing-table inthe middle.
Madame had three birds in a cage. They were no great thing, sheexplained. Fine birds were so dear. They had sought to get aHollandais last winter in Rouen (Rouen? thought I; and is thiswhole mansion, with its dogs and birds and smoking chimneys, so fara traveller as that? and as homely an object among the cliffs andorchards of the Seine as on the green plains of Sambre?)--they hadsought to get a Hollandais last winter in Rouen; but these costfifteen francs apiece--picture it--fifteen francs!
'Pour un tout petit oiseau--For quite a little bird,' added thehusband.
As I continued to admire, the apologetics died away, and the goodpeople began to brag of their barge, and their happy condition inlife, as if they had been Emperor and Empress of the Indies. Itwas, in the Scots phrase, a good hearing, and put me in good humourwith the world. If people knew what an inspiriting thing it is tohear a man boasting, so long as he boasts of what he really has, Ibelieve they would do it more freely and with a better grace.
They began to ask about our voyage. You should have seen how theysympathised. They seemed half ready to give up their barge andfollow us. But these canaletti are only gypsies semi-domesticated.The semi-domestication came out in rather a pretty form. SuddenlyMadam's brow darkened. 'Cependant,' she began, and then stopped;and then began again by asking me if I were single?
'Yes,' said I.
'And your friend who went by just now?'
on which side their breadis buttered, and take a pleasure in showing it to others, which issurely the .
He also was unmarried.
O then--all was well. She could not have wives left alone at home;but since there were no wives in the question, we were doing thebest we could.
'To see about one in the world,' said the husband, 'il n'y a queca--there is nothing else worth while. A man, look you, who sticksin his own village like a bear,' he went on, '--very well, he seesnothing. And then death is the end of all. And he has seennothing.'
Madame reminded her husband of an Englishman who had come up thiscanal in a steamer.
'Perhaps Mr. Moens in the Ytene,' I suggested.
'That's it,' assented the husband. 'He had his wife and familywith him, and servants. He came ashore at all the locks and askedthe name of the villages, whether from boatmen or lock-keepers; andthen he wrote, wrote them down. Oh, he wrote enormously! Isuppose it was a wager.'
A wager was a common enough explanation for our own exploits, butit seemed an original reason for taking notes.