the uncommercial traveller-第21章

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to　be　attributed　to　his　great　sagacity；　by　reason　of　his　carrying

broad　loads　of　wood　at　other　times；　and　not　being　clear　but　that　I

myself　belonged　to　that　station　of　life；　and　required　as　much　room

as　they。　　He　brought　me　safely；　in　his　own　wise　way；　among　the

passes　of　the　Alps；　and　here　I　enjoyed　a　dozen　climates　a　day；

being　now　（like　Don　Quixote　on　the　back　of　the　wooden　horse）　in　the

region　of　wind；　now　in　the　region　of　fire；　now　in　the　region　of

unmelting　ice　and　snow。　　Here；　I　passed　over　trembling　domes　of

ice；　beneath　which　the　cataract　was　roaring；　and　here　was　received

under　arches　of　icicles；　of　unspeakable　beauty；　and　here　the　sweet

air　was　so　bracing　and　so　light；　that　at　halting…times　I　rolled　in

the　snow　when　I　saw　my　mule　do　it；　thinking　that　he　must　know　best。

At　this　part　of　the　journey　we　would　come；　at　mid…day；　into　half　an

hour's　thaw：　　when　the　rough　mountain　inn　would　be　found　on　an

island　of　deep　mud　in　a　sea　of　snow；　while　the　baiting　strings　of

mules；　and　the　carts　full　of　casks　and　bales；　which　had　been　in　an

Arctic　condition　a　mile　off；　would　steam　again。　　By　such　ways　and

means；　I　would　come　to　the　cluster　of　chalets　where　I　had　to　turn

out　of　the　track　to　see　the　waterfall；　and　then；　uttering　a　howl

like　a　young　giant；　on　espying　a　traveller　…　in　other　words；

something　to　eat　…　coming　up　the　steep；　the　idiot　lying　on　the

wood…pile　who　sunned　himself　and　nursed　his　goitre；　would　rouse　the

woman…guide　within　the　hut；　who　would　stream　out　hastily；　throwing

her　child　over　one　of　her　shoulders　and　her　goitre　over　the　other；

as　she　came　along。　　I　slept　at　religious　houses；　and　bleak　refuges

of　many　kinds；　on　this　journey；　and　by　the　stove　at　night　heard

stories　of　travellers　who　had　perished　within　call；　in　wreaths　and

drifts　of　snow。　　One　night　the　stove　within；　and　the　cold　outside；

awakened　childish　associations　long　forgotten；　and　I　dreamed　I　was

in　Russia　…　the　identical　serf　out　of　a　picture…book　I　had；　before

I　could　read　it　for　myself　…　and　that　I　was　going　to　be　knouted　by

a　noble　personage　in　a　fur　cap；　boots；　and　earrings；　who；　I　think；

must　have　come　out　of　some　melodrama。



Commend　me　to　the　beautiful　waters　among　these　mountains！　　Though　I

was　not　of　their　mind：　　they；　being　inveterately　bent　on　getting

down　into　the　level　country；　and　I　ardently　desiring　to　linger

where　I　was。　　What　desperate　leaps　they　took；　what　dark　abysses

they　plunged　into；　what　rocks　they　wore　away；　what　echoes　they

invoked！　　In　one　part　where　I　went；　they　were　pressed　into　the

service　of　carrying　wood　down；　to　be　burnt　next　winter；　as　costly

fuel；　in　Italy。　　But；　their　fierce　savage　nature　was　not　to　be

easily　constrained；　and　they　fought　with　every　limb　of　the　wood；

whirling　it　round　and　round；　stripping　its　bark　away；　dashing　it

against　pointed　corners；　driving　it　out　of　the　course；　and　roaring

and　flying　at　the　peasants　who　steered　it　back　again　from　the　bank

with　long　stout　poles。　　Alas！　concurrent　streams　of　time　and　water

carried　ME　down　fast；　and　I　came；　on　an　exquisitely　clear　day；　to

the　Lausanne　shore　of　the　Lake　of　Geneva；　where　I　stood　looking　at

the　bright　blue　water；　the　flushed　white　mountains　opposite；　and

the　boats　at　my　feet　with　their　furled　Mediterranean　sails；　showing

like　enormous　magnifications　of　this　goose…quill　pen　that　is　now　in

my　hand。



…　The　sky　became　overcast　without　any　notice；　a　wind　very　like　the

March　east　wind　of　England；　blew　across　me；　and　a　voice　said；　'How

do　you　like　it？　　Will　it　do？'



I　had　merely　shut　myself；　for　half　a　minute；　in　a　German　travelling

chariot　that　stood　for　sale　in　the　Carriage　Department　of　the

London　Pantechnicon。　　I　had　a　commission　to　buy　it；　for　a　friend

who　was　going　abroad；　and　the　look　and　manner　of　the　chariot；　as　I

tried　the　cushions　and　the　springs；　brought　all　these　hints　of

travelling　remembrance　before　me。



'It　will　do　very　well；'　said　I；　rather　sorrowfully；　as　I　got　out　at

the　other　door；　and　shut　the　carriage　up。







CHAPTER　VIII　…　THE　GREAT　TASMANIA'S　CARGO







I　travel　constantly；　up　and　down　a　certain　line　of　railway　that　has

a　terminus　in　London。　　It　is　the　railway　for　a　large　military

depot；　and　for　other　large　barracks。　　To　the　best　of　my　serious

belief；　I　have　never　been　on　that　railway　by　daylight；　without

seeing　some　handcuffed　deserters　in　the　train。



It　is　in　the　nature　of　things　that　such　an　institution　as　our

English　army　should　have　many　bad　and　troublesome　characters　in　it。

But；　this　is　a　reason　for；　and　not　against；　its　being　made　as

acceptable　as　possible　to　well…disposed　men　of　decent　behaviour。

Such　men　are　assuredly　not　tempted　into　the　ranks；　by　the　beastly

inversion　of　natural　laws；　and　the　compulsion　to　live　in　worse　than

swinish　foulness。　　Accordingly；　when　any　such　Circumlocutional

embellishments　of　the　soldier's　condition　have　of　late　been　brought

to　notice；　we　civilians；　seated　in　outer　darkness　cheerfully

meditating　on　an　Income　Tax；　have　considered　the　matter　as　being

our　business；　and　have　shown　a　tendency　to　declare　that　we　would

rather　not　have　it　misregulated；　if　such　declaration　may；　without

violence　to　the　Church　Catechism；　be　hinted　to　those　who　are　put　in

authority　over　us。



Any　animated　description　of　a　modern　battle；　any　private　soldier's

letter　published　in　the　newspapers；　any　page　of　the　records　of　the

Victoria　Cross；　will　show　that　in　the　ranks　of　the　army；　there

exists　under　all　disadvantages　as　fine　a　sense　of　duty　as　is　to　be

found　in　any　station　on　earth。　　Who　doubts　that　if　we　all　did　our

duty　as　faithfully　as　the　soldier　does　his；　this　world　would　be　a

better　place？　　There　may　be　greater　difficulties　in　our　way　than　in

the　soldier's。　　Not　disputed。　　But；　let　us　at　least　do　our　duty

towards　HIM。



I　had　got　back　again　to　that　rich　and　beautiful　port　where　I　had

looked　after　Mercantile　Jack；　and　I　was　walking　up　a　hill　there；　on

a　wild　March　morning。　　My　conversation　with　my　official　friend

Pangloss；　by　whom　I　was　accidentally　accompanied；　took　this

direction　as　we　took　the　up…hill　direction；　because　the　object　of

my　uncommercial　journey　was　to　see　some　discharged　soldiers　who　had

recently　come　home　from　India。　　There　were　men　of　HAVELOCK's　among

them；　there　were　men　who　had　been　in　many　of　the　great　battles　of

the　great　Indian　campaign；　among　them；　and　I　was　curious　to　note

what　our　discharged　soldiers　looked　like；　when　they　were　done　with。



I　was　not　the　less　interested　（as　I　mentioned　to　my　official　friend

Pangloss）　because　these　men　had　claimed　to　be　discharged；　when

their　right　to　be　discharged　was　not　admitted。　　They　had　behaved

with　unblemished　fidelity　and　bravery；　but；　a　change　of

circumstances　had　arisen；　which；　as　they　considered；　put　an　end　to

their　compact　and　entitled　them　to　enter　on　a　new　one。　　Their

demand　had　been　blunderingly　resisted　by　the　authorities　in　India：

but；　it　is　to　be　presumed　that　the　men　were　not　far　wrong；　inasmuch

as　the　bungle　had　ended　in　their　being　sent　home　discharged；　in

pursuance　of　orders　from　home。　　（There　was　an　immense　waste　of

money；　of　course。）



Under　these　circumstances　…　thought　I；　as　I　walked　up　the　hill；　on

which　I　accidentally　encountered　my　official　friend　…　under　these

circumstances　of　the　men　having　successfully　opposed　themselves　to

the　Pagoda　Department　of　that　great　Circumlocution　Office　on　which

the　sun　never　sets　and　the　light　of　reason　never　rises；　the　Pagoda

Department　will　have　been　particularly　careful　of　the　national

honour。　　It　will　have　shown　these　men；　in　the　scrupulous　good

faith；　not　to　say　the　generosity；　of　its　dealing　with　them；　that

great　national　authorities　can　have　no　small　retaliations　and

revenges。　　It　will　have　made　every　provision　for　their　health　on

the　passage　home；　and　will　have　landed　them；　restored　from　their

campaigning　fatigues　by　a　sea…voyage；　pure　air；　sound　food；　and

good　medicines。　　And　I　pleased　my