A Day's Ride: A Life's Romance

“Well, you ‘re not much the wiser after all,” said he, gruffly, and without even saluting me.

There was in the words, and fierce expression of his face, something that made me suspect him of insanity, and I would willingly have retired without reply had he not risen and approached me.

“Eh,” repeated he, with a sneer, “ain’t I right? You can make nothing of it?”

“I really don’t understand you!” said I. “I came down here by the merest accident, and never was more astonished than to see you.”

“Oh, of course; I am well used to that sort of thing,” went he on in the same tone of scoff. “I ‘ve had some experience of these kinds of accidents before; but, as I said, it’s no use, you ‘re not within one thousand miles of it, no, nor any man in Europe.”

It was quite clear to me now that he was mad, and my only care was to get speedily rid of him.

“I ‘m not surprised,” said I, with an assumed ease, – “I’m not surprised at your having taken to so simple an amusement, for really in a place so dull as this any mode of passing the time would be welcome.”

“Simple enough when you know it,” said he, with a peculiar look.

“You arrived last night, I suppose?” said I, eager to get conversation into some pleasanter channel.

“Yes, I got here very late. I had the misfortune to sprain my ankle, and this detained me a long time on the way, and may keep me for a couple of days more.”

I learned where he was stopping in the town, and seeing with what pain and difficulty he moved, I offered him my aid to assist him on his way.

“Well, I ‘ll not refuse your help,” said he, dryly; “but Just go along yonder, about five-and-twenty or thirty yards, and I’ll join you. You understand me, I suppose?”

Now, I really did not understand him, except to believe him perfectly insane, and suggest to me the notion of profiting by his lameness to make my escape with all speed. I conclude some generous promptings opposed this course, for I obeyed his injunctions to the very letter, and waited till he came up to me. He did so very slowly, and evidently in much suffering, assisted by a stick in one hand, while he carried his two little boats in the other.

“Shall I take charge of these for you?” said I, offering to carry them.

“No, don’t trouble yourself,” said he in the same rude tone. “Nobody touches these but myself.”

I now gave him my arm, and we moved slowly along.

“What has become of the vagabonds? Are they here with you?” asked he, abruptly.

“I parted with them yesterday,” said I, shortly, and not wishing to enter into further explanations.

“And you did wisely,” rejoined he, with a serious air. “Even when these sort of creatures have nothing very bad about them, they are bad company, out of the haphazard chance way they gain a livelihood. If you reduce life to a game, you must yourself become a gambler. Now, there’s one feature of that sort of existence intolerable to an honest man; it is, that to win himself, some one else must lose. Do you understand me?”

“I do, and am much struck by what you say.”

“In that case,” said he, with a nudge of his elbow against my side, – “in that case you might as well have not come down to watch me?– eh?”

I protested stoutly against this mistake, but I could plainly perceive with very little success.

“Let it be, let it be,” said he, with a shake of the head. “As I said before, if you saw the thing done before your eyes you ‘d make nothing of it. I ‘m not afraid of you, or all the men in Europe! There now, there’s a challenge to the whole of ye! Sit down every man of ye, with the problem before ye, and see what you ‘ll make of it.”

“Ah,” thought I, “this is madness. Here is a poor monomaniac led away into the land of wild thoughts and fancies by one dominating caprice; who knows whether out of the realm of this delusion he may not be a man acute and sensible.”

“No, no,” muttered he, half aloud; “there are, maybe, half a million of men this moment manufacturing steam-engines; but it took one head, just one head, to set them all working, and if it was n’t for old Watt, the world at this day would n’t be five miles in advance of what it was a century back. I see,” added he, after a moment, “you don’t take much interest in these sort of things. Your line of parts is the walking gentleman, eh? Well, bear in mind it don’t pay; no, sir, it don’t pay! Here, this is my way; my lodging is down this lane. I’ll not ask you to come further; thank you for your help, and good-bye.”

“Let us not part here; come up to the inn and dine with me,” said I, affecting his own blunt and abrupt manner.

“Why should I dine with you?” asked he, roughly.

“I can’t exactly say,” stammered I, “except out of good-fellowship, just as, for instance, I accepted your invitation t’ other morning to breakfast.”

“Ah, yes, to be sure, so you did. Well, I ‘ll come. We shall be all alone, I suppose?”

“Quite alone.”

“All right, for I have no coat but this one;” and he looked down at the coarse sleeve as he spoke, with a strange and sad smile, and then waving his band in token of farewell, he said, “I ‘ll join you in half an hour,” and disappeared up the lane.

I have already owned that I did not like this man; he had a certain short abrupt way that repelled me at every moment. When he differed in opinion with me, he was not satisfied to record his dissent, but he must set about demolishing my conviction, and this sort of intolerance pervaded all he said. There was, too, that business-like practical tone about him that jars fearfully on the sensitive fibre of the idler’s nature.

It was exactly in proportion as his society was distasteful to me, that I felt a species of pride in associating with him, as though to say, “I am not one of those who must be fawned on and flattered. I am of a healthier and manlier stamp; I can afford to hear my judgments arraigned, and my opinions opposed.” And in this humor I ascended the stairs of the hotel, and entered the room where our table was already laid out.

To compensate, as far as they could, for the rude reception of the day before, they had given me now the “grand apartment” of the inn, which, by a long balcony, looked over the lake, and that fine mountain range that leads to the Splugen pass. A beautiful bouquet of fresh flowers ornamented the centre of the small dinner-table, tastily decked with Bohemian glass, and napkins with lace borders. I rather liked this little display of elegance. It was a sort of ally on my side against the utilitarian plainness of my guest. As I walked up and down the room, awaiting his arrival, I could not help a sigh, and a very deep one too, over the thought of what had been my enjoyment that moment if my guest had been one of a different temperament, – a man willing to take me on my own showing, and ready to accept any version I should like to give of myself. How gracefully, how charmingly I could have played the host to such a man! What vigor would it have imparted to my imagination, what brilliancy to my fancy! With what a princely grace might I have dispensed my hospitalities, as though such occasions were the daily habit of my life; whereas a dinner with Harpar would be nothing more or less than an airing with a “Slave in the chariot,” – a perpetual reminder, like the face of a poor relation, that my lot was cast in an humble sphere, and it was no use trying to disguise it.

“What’s all this for?” said Harpar’s harsh voice, as he entered the room. “Why did n’t you order our mutton-chop below stairs in the common room, and not a banquet in this fashion? You must be well aware I could n’t do this sort of thing by you. Why, then, have you attempted it with me?”

“I have always thought it was a host’s prerogative,” said I, meekly, “to be the arbiter of his own entertainment.”

“So it might where he is the arbiter of his purse; but you know well enough neither you nor I have any pretension to these costly ways, and they have this disadvantage, that they make all intercourse stilted and unnatural. If you and I had to sit down to table, dressed in court suits, with wigs and bags, ain’t it likely we’d be easy and cordial together? Well, this is precisely the same.”

“I am really sorry,” said I, with a forced appearance of courtesy, “to have incurred so severe a lesson, but you must allow me this one trangression before I begin to profit by it.” And so saying, I rang the bell and ordered dinner.

Harpar made no reply, but walked the room, with his hands deep in his pockets, humming a tune to himself as he went.

At last we sat down to table; everything was excellent and admirably served, but we ate on in silence, not a syllable exchanged between us. As the dessert appeared, I tried to open conversation. I affected to seem easy and unconcerned, but the cold half-stern look of my companion repelled all attempts, and I sat very sad and much discouraged, sipping my wine.

“May I order some brandy-and-water? I like it better than these French wines,” asked he, abruptly; and as I arose to ring for it, he added, “and you ‘ll not object to me having a pipe of strong Cavendish?” And therewith he produced a leather bag and a very much smoked meerschaum, short and ungainly as his own figure. As he thrust his hand into the pouch, a small boat, about the size of a lady’s thimble, rolled out from amidst the tobacco; he quickly took it and placed it in his waistcoat pocket, – the act being done with a sort of hurry that with a man of less self-possession might have perhaps evinced confusion.

“You fancy you ‘ve seen something, don’t you?” said he, with a defiant laugh. “I ‘d wager a five-pound note, if I had one, that you think at this moment you have made a great discovery. Well, there it is, make much of it!”

As he spoke, he produced the little boat, and laid it down before me. I own that this speech and the act convinced me that he was insane; I was aware that intense suspectfulness is the great characteristic of madness, and everything tended to show that he was deranged.

Rather to conceal what was passing in my own mind than out of curiosity, I took up the little toy to examine it. It was beautifully made, and finished with a most perfect neatness; the only thing I could not understand being four small holes on each side of the keel, fastened by four little plugs.

“What are these for?” asked I.

“Can’t you guess?” said he, laughingly.

“No; I have never seen such before.”

“Well,” said he, musingly, “perhaps they are puzzling, – I suppose they are. But mayhap, too, if I thought you ‘d guess the meaning, I ‘d not have been so ready to show it to you.” And with this he replaced the boat in his pocket and smoked away. “You ain’t a genius, my worthy friend, that’s a fact,” said he, sententiously.

“I opine that the same judgment might be passed upon a great many?” said I, testily.

“No,” continued he, following on his own thoughts without heeding my remark, “you ‘ll not set the Thames a-fire.”

“Is that the best test of a man’s ability?” asked I, sneeringly.

“You’re the sort of fellow that ought to be – let us see now what you ought to be, – yes, you ‘re just the stamp of man for an apothecary.”

“You are so charming in your frankness,” said I, “that you almost tempt me to imitate you.”

“And why not? Sure we oughtn’t to talk to each other like two devils in waiting. Out with what you have to say!”

“I was just thinking,” said I, – “led to it by that speculative turn of yours, – I was just thinking in what station your abilities would have pre-eminently distinguished you.”

“Well, have you hit it?”

“I’m not quite certain,” said I, trying to screw up my courage for an impertinence, “but I half suspect that in our great national works – our lines of railroad, for instance – there must be a strong infusion of men with tastes and habits resembling yours.”

“You mean the navvies?” broke he in. “You ‘re right, I was a navvy once; I turned the first spadeful of earth on the Coppleston Junction, and, seeing what a good thing might be made of it, I suggested task-work to my comrades, and we netted from four-and-six to five shillings a day each. In eight months after, I was made an inspector; so that you see strong sinews can be good allies to a strong head and a stout will.”

I do not believe that the most angry rebuke, the most sarcastic rejoinder, could have covered me with a tenth part of the shame and confusion that did these few words. I’d have given worlds, if I had them, to make a due reparation for my rudeness, but I knew not how to accomplish it I looked into his face to read if I might hit upon some trait by which his nature could be approached; but I might as well have gazed at a line of railroad to guess the sort of town that it led to. The stern, rugged, bold countenance seemed to imply little else than daring and determination, and I could not but wonder how I had ever dared to take a liberty with one of his stamp.

“Well,” said I, at last, and wishing to lead him back to his story, “and after being made inspector – ”

“You can speak German well,” said he, totally inattentive to my question; “just ask one of these people when there will be any conveyance from this to Ragatz.”

“Ragatz, of all places!” exclaimed I.

“Yes; they tell me it’s good for the rheumatics, and I have got some old shoulder pains I ‘d like to shake off before winter. And then this sprain, too; I foresee I shall not be able to walk much for some days to come.”

“Ragatz is on my road; I am about to cross the Splugen into Italy; I’ll bear you company so far, if you have no objection.”

“Well, it may not seem civil to say it, but I have an objection,” said he, rising from the table. “When I’ve got weighty things on my mind, I ‘ve a bad habit of talking of them to myself aloud. I can’t help it, and so I keep strictly alone till my plans are all fixed and settled; after that, there’s no danger of my revealing them to any one. There now, you have my reason, and you ‘ll not dispute that it’s a good one.”

“You may not be too distrustful of yourself,” said I, laughing, “but, assuredly, you are far too flattering in your estimate of my acuteness.”

“I’ll not risk it,” said he, bluntly, as he sought for his hat.

“Wait a moment,” said I. “You told me at Constance that you were in want of money; at the time I was not exactly in funds myself. Yesterday, however, I received a remittance; and if ten or twenty pounds be of any service, they are heartily at your disposal.”

He looked at me fixedly, almost sternly, for a minute or two, and then said, —

“Is this true, or is it that you have changed your mind about me?”

“True,” said I, – “strictly true.”

“Will this loan – I mean it to be a loan – inconvenience you much?”

“No, no; I make you the offer freely.”

“I take it, then. Let me have ten pounds; and write down there an address where I am to remit it some day or other, though I can’t say when.”

“There may be some difficulty about that,” said I. “Stay. I mean to be at Rome some time in the winter; send it to me there.”

“To what banker?”

“I have no banker; I never had a banker. There’s my name, and let the post-office be the address.”

“Whichever way you ‘re bent on going, you ‘re not on the road to be a rich man,” said Harpar, as he deposited my gold in his leather purse; “but I hope you ‘ll not lose by me. Good-bye.” He gave me his hand, not very warmly or cordially, either, and was gone ere I well knew it.

CHAPTER XXXVII. MY EXPLOSION AT THE TABLE D’HÔTE

I went the next morning to take leave of Harpar before starting, but found, to my astonishment, that he was already off! He had, I learned, hired a small carriage to convey him to Bregenz, and had set out before daybreak. I do not know why this should have annoyed me, but it did so, and set me a-thinking over the people whom Echstein in his “Erfahrungen,” says, are born to be dupes. “There is,” says he, “a race of men who are 'eingeborne Narren,’ – ‘native numskulls,’ one might say, – who muddy the streams of true benevolence by indiscriminating acts of kindness, and who, by always aiding the wrongdoer, make themselves accomplices of vice.” Could it be that I was in this barren category? Harpar had told me, the evening before, that he would not leave Lindau till his sprain was better, and now he was off, just as if, having no further occasion for me, he was glad to be rid of my companionship – just as if – I was beginning again to start another conjecture, when I bethought me that there is not a more deceptive formula in the whole cyclopaedia of delusion than that which opens with these same words, “just as if.” Rely upon it, amiable reader, that whenever you find yourself driven to explain a motive, trace a cause, or reconcile a discrepancy, by “just as if,” the chances are about seven to three you are wrong. If I was not in the bustle of paying my bill and strapping on my knapsack, I ‘d convince you on this head; but, as the morning is a bright but mellow one of early autumn, and my path lies along the placid lake, waveless and still, with many a tinted tree reflected in its fair mirror, let us not think of knaves and rogues, but rather dwell on the pleasanter thought of all the good and grateful things which daily befall us in this same life of ours. I am full certain that almost all of us enter upon what is called the world in too combative a spirit We are too fond of dragon slaying, and rather than be disappointed of our sport, we ‘d fall foul of a pet lamb, for want of a tiger. Call it self-delusion, credulity, what you will, it is a faith that makes life very livable, and, without it,

“We feel a light has left the world,A nameless sort of treasure,As though one pluck’d the crimson heartFrom out the rose of pleasure.I could forgive the fate that madeMe poor and young to-morrow,To hare again the soul that playedSo tenderly in sorrow,So buoyantly in happiness.Ay, I would brook deceiving,And even the deceiver bless,Just to go on believing!”

“Still,” thought I, “one ought to maintain self-respect; one should not willingly make himself a dupe.” And then I began to wish that Vaterchen had come up, and that Tinte-fleck was rushing towards me with tears in her eyes, and my money-bag in her hands. I wanted to forget them. I tried in a hundred ways to prevent them crossing my memory; but though there is a most artful system of artificial “mnemonics” invented by some one, the Lethal art has met no explorer, and no man has ever yet found out the way to shut the door against bygones. I believe it is scarcely more than five miles to Bregenz from Lindau, and yet I was almost as many hours on the road. I sat down, perhaps twenty times, lost in revery; indeed, I’m not very sure that I did n’t take a sound sleep under a spreading willow, so that, when I reached the inn, the company was just going in to dinner at the table d’hôte. Simple and unpretentious as that board was, the company that graced it was certainly distinguished, being no less than the Austrian field-marshal in command of the district, and the officers of his staff. To English notions, it seemed very strange to see a nobleman of the highest rank, in the proudest state of Europe, seated at a dinner-table open to all comers, at a fraction less than one shilling a head, and where some of the government officials of the place daily came.

It was not without a certain sense of shame that I found myself in the long low chamber, in which about twenty officers were assembled, whose uniforms were all glittering with stars, medals, and crosses; in fact, to a weak-minded civilian like myself, they gave the impression of a group of heroes fresh come from all the triumphant glories of a campaign. Between the staff, which occupied one end of the long table, and the few townsfolk who sat at the other, there intervened a sort of frontier territory uninhabited; and it was here that the waiter located me, – an object of observation and remark to each. Resolving to learn how I was treated by my critics, I addressed the waiter in the very worst French, and protested my utter ignorance of German. I had promised myself much amusement from this expedient, but was doomed to a severe disappointment, – the officers coolly setting me down for a servant, while the townspeople pronounced me a pedler; and when these judgments had been recorded, instead of entering upon a psychological examination of my nature, temperament, and individuality, they never noticed me any more. I felt hurt at this, more, indeed, for their sakes than my own, since I bethought me of the false impression that is current of this people throughout Europe, where they have the reputation of philosophers deeply engaged in researches into character, minute anatomists of human thought and man’s affections; “and yet,” muttered I, “they can sit at table with one of the most remarkable of men, and be as ignorant of all about him as the husbandman who toils at his daily labor is of the mineral treasures that lie buried down beneath him.”

“I will read them a lesson,” thought I. “They shall see that in the humble guise of foot-traveller it may be the pleasure of men of rank and station to journey.” The townsfolk, when the dessert made its appearance, rose to take their departure, each before he left the room making a profound obeisance to the general, and then another but less lowly act of homage to the staff, showing by this that strangers were expected to withdraw, while the military guests sat over their wine. Indeed, a very significant look from the last person who left the room conveyed to me the etiquette of the place. I was delighted at this, – it was the very opportunity I longed for; and so, with a clink of my knife against my wine-glass, the substitute for a bell in use amongst humble hostels, I summoned the waiter, and asked for his list of wines. I saw that my act had created some astonishment amongst the others, but it excited nothing more, and now they had all lighted their pipes, and sat smoking away quite regardless of my presence. I had ordered a flask of Steinberger at four florins, and given most special directions that my glass should have a “roped rim,” and be of a tender green tint, but not too deep to spoil the color of the wine.

My admonitions were given aloud, and in a tone of command; but I perceived that they failed to create any impression upon my moustached neighbors. I might have ordered nectar or hypocras, for all that they seemed to care about me. I raked up in memory all the impertinent and insolent things Henri Heine had ever said of Austria; I bethought me how they tyrannized in the various provinces of their scattered empire, and how they were hated by Hun, Slavac, and Italian; I revelled in those slashing leading articles that used to show up the great but bankrupt bully, and I only wished I was “own correspondent” to something at home to give my impressions of “Austria and her military system.”

Little as you think of that pale sad-looking stranger, who sits sipping his wine in solitude at the foot of the table, he is about to transmit yourselves and your country to a remote posterity. “Ay!” muttered I, “to be remembered when the Danube will be a choked-up rivulet, and the park of Schônbrunn a prairie for the buffalo.” I am not exactly aware how or why these changes were to have occurred, but Lord Macaulay’s New Zealander might have originated them.

While I thus mused and brooded, the tramp of four horses came clattering down the street, and soon after swept into the arched doorway of the inn with a rolling and thunderous sound.

“Here he comes; here he is at last! said a young officer, who had rushed in haste to the window; and at the announcement a very palpable sentiment of satisfaction seemed to spread itself through the company, even to the grim old field-marshal, who took his pipe from his mouth to say, —

“He is in time, – he saves ‘arrest!’”

As he spoke, a tall man in uniform entered the room, and walking with military step till he came in front of the General, said, in a loud but respectful voice, —

“I have the honor to report myself as returned to duty.”

The General replied something I could not catch, and then shook him warmly by the hand, making room for him to sit down next him.

“How far did your Royal Highness go? Not to Coire?” said the General.

“Far beyond it, sir,” said the other. “I went the whole way to the Splügen, and if it were not for the terror of your displeasure, I ‘d have crossed the mountain and gone on to Chiavenna.”