内河航程 英文版 An Inland Voyage
罗伯特.路易斯.史蒂文森 Robert Louis Stevenson
PONT-SUR-SAMBRE
WE ARE PEDLARS
The Cigarette returned with good news. There were beds to be hadsome ten minutes' walk from where we were, at a place called Pont.We stowed the canoes in a granary, and asked among the children fora guide. The circle at once widened round us, and our offers ofreward were received in dispiriting silence. We were plainly apair of Bluebeards to the children; they might speak to us inpublic places, and where they had the advantage of numbers; but itwas another thing to venture off alone with two uncouth andlegendary characters, who had dropped from the clouds upon theirhamlet this quiet afternoon, sashed and be-knived, and with aflavour of great voyages. The owner of the granary came to ourassistance, singled out one little fellow and threatened him withcorporalities; or I suspect we should have had to find the way forourselves. As it was, he was more frightened at the granary manthan the strangers, having perhaps had some experience of theformer. But I fancy his little heart must have been going at afine rate; for he kept trotting at a respectful distance in front,and looking back at us with scared eyes. Not otherwise may thechildren of the young world have guided Jove or one of his Olympiancompeers on an adventure.
A miry lane led us up from Quartes with its church and bickeringwindmill. The hinds were trudging homewards from the fields. Abrisk little woman passed us by. She was seated across a donkeybetween a pair of glittering milk-cans; and, as she went, shekicked jauntily with her heels upon the donkey's side, andscattered shrill remarks among the wayfarers. It was notable thatnone of the tired men took the trouble to reply. Our conductorsoon led us out of the lane and across country. The sun had gonedown, but the west in front of us was one lake of level gold. Thepath wandered a while in the open, and then passed under a trellislike a bower indefinitely prolonged. On either hand were shadowyorchards; cottages lay low among the leaves, and sent their smoketo heaven; every here and there, in an opening, appeared the greatgold face of the west.
I never saw the Cigarette in such an idyllic frame of mind. Hewaxed positively lyrical in praise of country scenes. I was littleless exhilarated myself; the mild air of the evening, the shadows,the rich lights and the silence, made a symphonious accompanimentabout our walk; and we both determined to avoid towns for thefuture and sleep in hamlets.
At last the path went between two houses, and turned the party outinto a wide muddy high-road, bordered, as far as the eye couldreach on either hand, by an unsightly village. The houses stoodwell back, leaving a ribbon of waste land on either side of theroad, where there were stacks of firewood, carts, barrows, rubbish-heaps, and a little doubtful grass. Away on the left, a gaunttower stood in the middle of the street. What it had been in pastages, I know not: probably a hold in time of war; but now-a-daysit bore an illegible dial-plate in its upper parts, and near thebottom an iron letter-box.
The inn to which we had been recommended at Quartes was full, orelse the landlady did not like our looks. I ought to say, thatwith our long, damp india-rubber bags, we presented rather adoubtful type of civilisation: like rag-and-bone men, theCigarette imagined. 'These gentlemen are pedlars?--Ces messieurssont des marchands?'--asked the landlady. And then, withoutwaiting for an answer, which I suppose she thought superfluous inso plain a case, recommended us to a butcher who lived hard by thetower, and took in travellers to lodge.
Thither went we. But the butcher was flitting, and all his bedswere taken down. Or else he didn't like our look. As a partingshot, we had 'These gentlemen are pedlars?'
It began to grow dark in earnest. We could no longer distinguishthe faces of the people who passed us by with an inarticulate good-evening. And the householders of Pont seemed very economical withtheir oil; for we saw not a single window lighted in all that longvillage. I believe it is the longest village in the world; but Idaresay in our predicament every pace counted three times over. Wewere much cast down when we came to the last auberge; and lookingin at the dark door, asked timidly if we could sleep there for thenight. A female voice assented in no very friendly tones. Weclapped the bags down and found our way to chairs.
The place was in total darkness, save a red glow in the chinks andventilators of the stove. But now the landlady lit a lamp to seeher new guests; I suppose the darkness was what saved us anotherexpulsion; for I cannot say she looked gratified at our appearance.We were in a large bare apartment, adorned with two allegoricalprints of Music and Painting, and a copy of the law against publicdrunkenness. On one side, there was a bit of a bar, with somehalf-a-dozen bottles. Two labourers sat waiting supper, inattitudes of extreme weariness; a plain-looking lass bustled aboutwith a sleepy child of two; and the landlady began to derange thepots upon the stove, and set some beefsteak to grill.
'These gentlemen are pedlars?' she asked sharply. And that was allthe conversation forthcoming. We began to think we might bepedlars after all. I never knew a population with so narrow arange of conjecture as the innkeepers of Pont-sur-Sambre. Butmanners and bearing have not a wider currency than bank-notes. Youhave only to get far enough out of your beat, and all youraccomplished airs will go for nothing. These Hainaulters could seeno difference between us and the average pedlar. Indeed we hadsome grounds for reflection while the steak was getting ready, tosee how perfectly they accepted us at their own valuation, and howour best politeness and best efforts at entertainment seemed to fitquite suitably with the character of packmen. At least it seemed agood account of the profession in France, that even before suchjudges we could not beat them at our own weapons.
At last we were called to table. The two hinds (and one of themlooked sadly worn and white in the face, as though sick with over-work and under-feeding) supped off a single plate of some sort ofbread-berry, some potatoes in their jackets, a small cup of coffeesweetened with sugar-candy, and one tumbler of swipes. Thelandlady, her son, and the lass aforesaid, took the same. Our mealwas quite a banquet by comparison. We had some beefsteak, not sotender as it might have been, some of the potatoes, some cheese, anextra glass of the swipes, and white sugar in our coffee.
You see what it is to be a gentleman--I beg your pardon, what it isto be a pedlar. It had not before occurred to me that a pedlar wasa great man in a labourer's ale-house; but now that I had to enactthe part for an evening, I found that so it was. He has in hishedge quarters somewhat the same pre-eminency as the man who takesa private parlour in an hotel. The more you look into it, the moreinfinite are the class distinctions among men; and possibly, by ahappy dispensation, there is no one at all at the bottom of thescale; no one but can find some superiority over somebody else, tokeep up his pride withal.
We were displeased enough with our fare. Particularly theCigarette, for I tried to make believe that I was amused with theadventure, tough beefsteak and all. According to the Lucretianmaxim, our steak should have been flavoured by the look of theother people's bread-berry. But we did not find it so in practice.You may have a head-knowledge that other people live more poorlythan yourself, but it is not agreeable--I was going to say, it isagainst the etiquette of the universe--to sit at the same table andpick your own superior diet from among their crusts. I had notseen such a thing done since the greedy boy at school with hisbirthday cake. It was odious enough to witness, I could remember;and I had never thought to play the part myself. But there againyou see what it is to be a pedlar.
There is no doubt that the poorer classes in our country are muchmore charitably disposed than their superiors in wealth. And Ifancy it must arise a great deal from the comparative indistinctionof the easy and the not so easy in these ranks. A workman or apedlar cannot shutter himself off from his less comfortableneighbours. If he treats himself to a luxury, he must do it in theface of a dozen who cannot. And what should more directly lead tocharitable thoughts? . . . Thus the poor man, camping out in life,sees it as it is, and knows that every mouthful he puts in hisbelly has been wrenched out of the fingers of the hungry.
But at a certain stage of prosperity, as in a balloon ascent, thefortunate person passes through a zone of clouds, and sublunarymatters are thenceforward hidden from his view. He sees nothingbut the heavenly bodies, all in admirable order, and positively asgood as new. He finds himself surrounded in the most touchingmanner by the attentions of Providence, and compares himselfinvoluntarily with the lilies and the skylarks. He does notprecisely sing, of course; but then he looks so unassuming in hisopen landau! If all the world dined at one table, this philosophywould meet with some rude knocks.
PONT-SUR-SAMBRE
THE TRAVELLING MERCHANT
Like the lackeys in Moliere's farce, when the true nobleman brokein on their high life below stairs, we were destined to beconfronted with a real pedlar. To make the lesson still morepoignant for fallen gentlemen like us, he was a pedlar ofinfinitely more consideration than the sort of scurvy fellows wewere taken for: like a lion among mice, or a ship of war bearingdown upon two cock-boats. Indeed, he did not deserve the name ofpedlar at all: he was a travelling merchant.
I suppose it was about half-past eight when this worthy, MonsieurHector Gilliard of Maubeuge, turned up at the ale-house door in atilt cart drawn by a donkey, and cried cheerily on the inhabitants.He was a lean, nervous flibbertigibbet of a man, with something thelook of an actor, and something the look of a horse-jockey. He hadevidently prospered without any of the favours of education; for headhered with stern simplicity to the masculine gender, and in thecourse of the evening passed off some fancy futures in a veryflorid style of architecture. With him came his wife, a comelyyoung woman with her hair tied in a yellow kerchief, and their son,a little fellow of four, in a blouse and military kepi. It wasnotable that the child was many degrees better dressed than eitherof the parents. We were informed he was already at a boarding-school; but the holidays having just commenced, he was off to spendthem with his parents on a cruise. An enchanting holidayoccupation, was it not? to travel all day with father and mother inthe tilt cart full of countless treasures; the green countryrattling by on either side, and the children in all the villagescontemplating him with envy and wonder? It is better fun, duringthe holidays, to be the son of a travelling merchant, than son andheir to the greatest cotton-spinner in creation. And as for beinga reigning prince--indeed I never saw one if it was not MasterGilliard!
While M. Hector and the son of the house were putting up thedonkey, and getting all the valuables under lock and key, thelandlady warmed up the remains of our beefsteak, and fried the coldpotatoes in slices, and Madame Gilliard set herself to waken theboy, who had come far that day, and was peevish and dazzled by thelight. He was no sooner awake than he began to prepare himself forsupper by eating galette, unripe pears, and cold potatoes--with, sofar as I could judge, positive benefit to his appetite.
The landlady, fired with motherly emulation, awoke her own littlegirl; and the two children were confronted. Master Gilliard lookedat her for a moment, very much as a dog looks at his own reflectionin a mirror before he turns away. He was at that time absorbed inthe galette. His mother seemed crestfallen that he should displayso little inclination towards the other sex; and expressed herdisappointment with some candour and a very proper reference to theinfluence of years.
Sure enough a time will come when he will pay more attention to thegirls, and think a great deal less of his mother: let us hope shewill like it as well as she seemed to fancy. But it is odd enough;the very women who profess most contempt for mankind as a sex, seemto find even its ugliest particulars rather lively and high-mindedin their own sons.
The little girl looked longer and with more interest, probablybecause she was in her own house, while he was a traveller andaccustomed to strange sights. And besides there was no galette inthe case with her.
All the time of supper, there was nothing spoken of but my younglord. The two parents were both absurdly fond of their child.Monsieur kept insisting on his sagacity: how he knew all thechildren at school by name; and when this utterly failed on trial,how he was cautious and exact to a strange degree, and if askedanything, he would sit and think--and think, and if he did not knowit, 'my faith, he wouldn't tell you at all--foi, il ne vous le dirapas': which is certainly a very high degree of caution. Atintervals, M. Hector would appeal to his wife, with his mouth fullof beefsteak, as to the little fellow's age at such or such a timewhen he had said or done something memorable; and I noticed thatMadame usually pooh-poohed these inquiries. She herself was notboastful in her vein; but she never had her fill of caressing thechild; and she seemed to take a gentle pleasure in recalling allthat was fortunate in his little existence. No schoolboy couldhave talked more of the holidays which were just beginning and lessof the black school-time which must inevitably follow after. Sheshowed, with a pride perhaps partly mercantile in origin, hispockets preposterously swollen with tops and whistles and string.When she called at a house in the way of business, it appeared hekept her company; and whenever a sale was made, received a sou outof the profit. Indeed they spoiled him vastly, these two goodpeople. But they had an eye to his manners for all that, andreproved him for some little faults in breeding, which occurredfrom time to time during supper.
On the whole, I was not much hurt at being taken for a pedlar. Imight think that I ate with greater delicacy, or that my mistakesin French belonged to a different order; but it was plain thatthese distinctions would be thrown away upon the landlady and thetwo labourers. In all essential things we and the Gilliards cutvery much the same figure in the ale-house kitchen. M. Hector wasmore at home, indeed, and took a higher tone with the world; butthat was explicable on the ground of his driving a donkey-cart,while we poor bodies tramped afoot. I daresay, the rest of thecompany thought us dying with envy, though in no ill sense, to beas far up in the profession as the new arrival.
villagescontemplating him with envy and wonder? It is better.
And of one thing I am sure: that every one thawed and became morehumanised and conversible as soon as these innocent people appearedupon the scene. I would not very readily trust the travellingmerchant with any extravagant sum of money; but I am sure his heartwas in the right place. In this mixed world, if you can find oneor two sensible places in a man--above all, if you should find awhole family living together on such pleasant terms--you may surelybe satisfied, and take the rest for granted; or, what is a greatdeal better, boldly make up your mind that you can do perfectlywell without the rest; and that ten thousand bad traits cannot makea single good one any the less good.
It was getting late. M. Hector lit a stable lantern and went offto his cart for some arrangements; and my young gentleman proceededto divest himself of the better part of his raiment, and playgymnastics on his mother's lap, and thence on to the floor, withaccompaniment of laughter.
'Are you going to sleep alone?' asked the servant lass.
Pont.We stowed the canoes in a granary, and asked among the children fora guide. The .
'There's little fear of that,' says Master Gilliard.
'You sleep alone at school,' objected his mother. 'Come, come, youmust be a man.'
But he protested that school was a different matter from theholidays; that there were dormitories at school; and silenced thediscussion with kisses: his mother smiling, no one better pleasedthan she.
There certainly was, as he phrased it, very little fear that heshould sleep alone; for there was but one bed for the trio. We, onour part, had firmly protested against one man's accommodation fortwo; and we had a double-bedded pen in the loft of the house,furnished, beside the beds, with exactly three hat-pegs and onetable. There was not so much as a glass of water. But the windowwould open, by good fortune.
Some time before I fell asleep the loft was full of the sound ofmighty snoring: the Gilliards, and the labourers, and the peopleof the inn, all at it, I suppose, with one consent. The young moonoutside shone very clearly over Pont-sur-Sambre, and down upon theale-house where all we pedlars were abed.