SEEING MONT BLANC GO OUT.
"Father," said Rollo to Mr. Holiday, at dinner one day, "what are you
going to do this evening?"
"We are going to see Mont Blanc go out," said his father.
Mr. Holiday answered Rollo in French, using a phrase very common in
Geneva to denote the gradual fading away of the rosy light left upon
Mont Blanc by the setting sun; for the sun, just at the time of its
setting, gilds the mountain with a peculiar rosy light, as if it were a
cloud. This light gradually fades away as the sun goes down, until the
lower part of the mountain becomes of a dead and ghostly white, while
the roseate hue still lingers on the summit, as if the top of the
mountain were tipped with flame. These last beams finally disappear, and
then the whole expanse of snow assumes a deathlike and wintry whiteness.
The inhabitants of Geneva, and those who live in the environs, often go
out to their gardens and summer houses in the summer evenings, just as
the sun is going down, to see, as they express it, Mont Blanc go out;[E]
and strangers who visit Geneva always desire, if they can, to witness
the spectacle. There are, however, not a great many evenings in the year
when it can be witnessed to advantage, the mountain is so often
enveloped in clouds.
[Footnote E: The phrase is, in French, _Pour voir le Mont Blanc
s'eteindre_.]
Rollo had heard the phrase before, and he knew very well what his father
meant.
"Well," said he, in a tone of satisfaction; "and may I go too?"
"Yes," said his father; "we should like to have you go very much. But
there is a question to be decided--how we shall go. The best point of
view is somewhere on the shore along the lake, on the other side of the
bridge. There are three ways of going. We can walk across the bridge,
and then follow the road along the shore till we come to a good place,
or we can take a carriage, and order the coachman to drive out any where
into the neighborhood, where there is a good view of the mountain, or we
can go in a boat."
"In a boat, father!" said Rollo, eagerly. "Let us go in a boat!"
"The objection to that," said Mr. Holiday, "is, that it is more trouble
to go and engage a boat. There are plenty of carriages here at the very
door, and I can have one at a moment's notice, by just holding up my
finger."
"And, father," said Rollo, "so there are plenty of boats right down here
by the quay, and I can get one of them in a moment, just by holding up
my finger."
"Well," said Mr. Holiday, "we will go in a boat if you will take all the
trouble of engaging one."
Rollo liked nothing better than this, and as soon as dinner was over he
went out upon the quay to engage a boat, while his father and mother
went up to their room to get ready to go.
Rollo found plenty of boats at the landing. Some of them were very
pretty. He chose one which seemed to have comfortable seats in it for
his father and mother. It was a boat, too, that had the American flag
flying at the stern. Some of the boatmen get American flags, and raise
them on their boats, out of compliment to their numerous American
customers.
Soon after Rollo had engaged the boat, his father and mother came, and
they all embarked on board. The boatman rowed them off from the shore.
The sun was just going down. There were a great many boats plying to and
fro about the lake, and the quays and the little islet were crowded with
people.
After rowing about a quarter of a mile, the boatman brought the range of
the Alps into full view through an opening between the nearer hills. The
sun was shining full upon them, and illuminating them with a dazzling
white light, very beautiful, but without any rosy hue.
"They don't look rosy at all," said Rollo.
"No," said Mr. Holiday, "not now. They do not take the rosy hue till the
sun has gone down."
The boatman rowed on a little farther, so as to obtain a still better
view. Mr. and Mrs. Holiday watched the mountains; but Rollo was more
interested in the scene immediately around him. He watched the boats
that were plying to and fro over the surface of the lake, and the
different parties of ladies and gentlemen in them. He gazed on the
quays, too, all around, and on the islet, which was not far off, and on
the people that he saw there, some walking to and fro, and others
leaning over the parapet and looking out upon the water.
"Rollo," said Mr. Holiday, "see if there is a rudder."
"Yes, father, there is," said Rollo. So saying, he climbed over the
seats, between his father and mother, and took his place by the rudder.
"Steer us, then, over to the opposite shore, wherever you see there is a
pleasant place to land."
Rollo was glad and sorry both to receive this command. He was glad to
have the pleasure of steering, but he was sorry that his father intended
to land. He would have preferred remaining out upon the water.
He, however, obeyed his father's command, and steered towards the
farther shore, turning the head of the boat in an oblique direction, a
little way up the lake. Presently Mr. Holiday saw some friends of his in
a boat that was coming in the opposite direction. He ordered Rollo to
steer towards them. Rollo did so, and soon the boats came alongside. The
oarsmen of both boats stopped rowing, and the two parties in them came
to a parley.
There was a little girl in the other boat, named Lucia. There was no
other child in that boat, and so there was nobody for Lucia to play
with. Lucia therefore asked her father and mother to allow her to get
over into Mr. Holiday's boat, so that she could have somebody to play
with.
"Why, Lucia," said her mother, "Rollo is a great boy. He is too big to
play with you."
"I know it," said Lucia; "but then he is better than nobody."
Rollo might perhaps have been made to feel somewhat piqued at being
considered by a young lady as only better than nobody for a companion,
had it not been for the nature of the objection, which was only that he
was too large. So he felt complimented rather than otherwise, and he
cordially seconded Lucia's wish that she might be transferred to his
father's boat, and at length her mother consented. Lucia stepped
carefully over the gunwales, and thus got into Mr. Holiday's boat. She
immediately passed along to the stern, and took her place by the side of
Rollo at the rudder. The boats then separated from each other, and each
went on its own way.
"What is this handle," said Lucia, "that you are taking hold of?"
"It is the tiller," said Rollo.
"And what is it for?" asked Lucia.
"It is the handle of the rudder," said Rollo. "The rudder is what we
steer the boat by, and the tiller is the handle of it. The rudder itself
is down below the water."
So Rollo let Lucia look over the end of the boat and see the rudder in
the water.
Rollo then proceeded to explain the operation of the rudder.
"You see," said he, "that when I move the tiller over _this_ way, then
the head of the boat turns the other way; and when I move it over _that_
way, then the head of the boat comes round this way. The head of the
boat always goes the contrary way."
"I don't see why it should go the contrary way," said Lucia. "I should
think it ought to go the same way."
"No," replied Rollo; "it goes the contrary way. And now I am going to
steer to a good place to land on the shore over there."
So saying, Rollo pointed to the shore towards which the boat was going.
The boat was now drawing near the shore. There was first a landing,
where several small vessels were drawn up, and immense piles of wood in
great wood yards.
This wood had a very singular appearance. The bark was all off, and the
ends of the logs looked rounded and worn, as if they had been washed in
the water. The reason was, that the wood had grown on the sides of the
mountains, and had been brought down to the lake by the torrents which
pour down the mountain sides with great force in time of rain.
"We won't land in the wood yards--will we?" said Rollo.
"No," said Lucia; "but _there's_ a pretty place to land, a little
farther on."
So saying, Lucia pointed to a very pretty part of the shore, a little
farther on. There seemed to be a garden, and a little green lawn, with
large trees overshadowing it; and at one place there was a projecting
point where there was a summer house with a table in it, and a seat
outside, near the beach, under a bower.
"Yes," said Rollo; "that is a very pretty place; but it looks like
private ground. I think we must not land there."
As the boat glided by this place, Rollo and Lucia saw some ladies and
gentlemen sitting in the summer house. The gentlemen took off their hats
and bowed to Mr. and Mrs. Holiday as they passed by.
Next the boat came to a place where there was a low parapet wall along
the shore, and behind it were to be seen the heads of a number of men
who seemed to be sitting at tables, and drinking coffee or beer.
"Here is a good place to land," said Lucia.
"No," said Rollo; "this seems to be some sort of public place, full of
men. We had better go a little farther."
So Rollo steered on, keeping all the time at just a safe distance from
the shore. The water was most beautifully transparent and clear, so that
all the pretty stones and pebbles on the bottom could be seen very
distinctly at a great depth.
"What pretty water!" said Lucia.
"Yes," said Rollo, "it is so clear."
"What makes it so clear?" asked Lucia.
"Because the lake is so long," said Rollo, "and this is the lower end of
it, and the water has time to settle. At the other end, where the water
comes in, it is not so clear. This is the end where the water runs out."
A moment afterwards they came to a very pleasant landing, at a place
where the road lay pretty near the water. Between the road and the
water, however, there was a space of green grass, with large trees
overshadowing it, and several wooden settees, painted green, under the
trees.
"Ah!" said Rollo, "here is just the place for us.
"Father," he added, "do you think it would be a good plan to land here?"
"Yes," said his father; "we could not have had a better place. I thought
you would find a pleasant landing for us if I gave you the command."
So Rollo brought the boat up to the shore, and they all got out. Mr. and
Mrs. Holiday walked up and took their seats on one of the settees, while
Rollo and Lucia began to run about and play along the parapet wall which
separated the promenade from the water.
Mr. and Mrs. Holiday watched the mountains. The sun had now just gone
down, though his beams still tipped the summits of the hills, and were
reflected from the windows of the distant houses. The snow on the
mountains, too, began to assume a very beautiful rosy hue, which
increased in brilliancy the farther the sun went down, and the more the
lower lands became darkened.
"How beautiful it is!" said Mrs. Holiday.
"It is very beautiful indeed," said her husband.
"Rollo," said Mrs. Holiday, "look at Mont Blanc. See how bright and rosy
he looks."
"Yes, mother," said Rollo; "and look out on the lake, and see the heads
of those two boys swimming in the water."
"Are those the heads of boys?" asked Mrs. Holiday.
"Yes, mother," said Rollo; "see how far they are swimming out."
When Mrs. Holiday looked back at the mountain, she found, to her great
disappointment, that the rosy color which had appeared so beautiful a
moment before had now disappeared; and the whole snowy side of the
range, up to the summits of the loftiest peaks, was of a cold, dead
white, as if the rays of the sun had been entirely withdrawn.
"Ah! look!" she said to Mr. Holiday, in a tone of disappointment; "Mont
Blanc has gone out while we have been looking another way."
Mr. Holiday gazed intently at the mountain, and very soon he saw the
rosy tint beginning to appear again on one of the summits, more
brilliant than ever.
"No," said he, "the sun has not gone. I thought it could not have gone
down so soon. There must have been a cloud in the way."
While Mr. Holiday had been speaking, the rekindling of the mountain had
gone on apace, and now the whole side of it was all in a glow.
Just at this instant Rollo heard the sound of a gun. Lucia started and
looked alarmed.
"What is that gun?" said Rollo; "and where was it? Let us look for the
smoke."
So Rollo and Lucia, leaning over the parapet, began to look all about
among the boats and vessels of the lake, and along the opposite shore,
in the direction from which the sound of the report had seemed to come,
and very soon their eyes rested upon a volume of blue smoke which was
ascending from the bows of a little vessel that had just come in, and
was floating off gracefully into the air.
"It is that vessel that has just got in," said Rollo.
"Rollo," said Mrs. Holiday, "look at the mountain."
Rollo turned his eye for a moment towards the mountain. All the lower
part of it was of a cold and deathlike whiteness, while the tip of the
summit was glowing as if it had been on fire. He was, however, too much
interested in the smoke of the gun to look long at the mountain.
"Hark!" said he to Lucia; "let us see if they will not fire again."
They did not fire again; and just as Rollo began to give up expecting
that they would, his attention, as well as that of Lucia, was attracted
to a little child who was playing with a small hammer in the gravel not
far from where they were standing. The mother of the child was sitting
on a bench near by, knitting. The hammer was small, and the claw of it
was straight and flat. The child was using it for a hoe, to dig a hole
in the gravel.
"Now," said Rollo, "if I could find a shingle any where about here, I
would make that child a shovel to dig with."
Rollo looked about, but there was nothing like a shingle to be seen.
In a few minutes his father called him.
"Rollo," said he, "we are going back. Mont Blanc has gone out. See!"
Rollo looked. He saw that the last lingering rays of the sun had gone
from the summit of the mountain, though they still gilded a small
rounded cloud that floated just above it in the sky.
"Yes, sir," said Rollo. "I'll go and call the boat."
"We are not going back in the boat," said Mr. Holiday; "we have
concluded to walk round by land, and over the bridge. It will be better
for Lucia to go with us; but you may do as you please. You may walk with
us, or go in the boat with the boatman."
Rollo at first thought that he should prefer to go in the boat; but he
finally concluded to accompany his father and mother. So the whole party
returned together by a pleasant road which led through a village by the
shore.
When they came out to the quay they heard a band of music playing. The
band was stationed on the little islet which has already been described.
The party stopped on the bridge to listen; at least Mr. and Mrs. Holiday
listened, but Rollo and Lucia occupied themselves the while in looking
down in the clear depths of the water, which was running so swiftly and
so blue beneath the piers of the bridge, and watching to see if they
could see any fishes there. Lucia thought at one time that she saw one;
but Rollo, on examining the spot, said it was only a little crevice of
the rock wiggling.
"What makes it wiggle?" asked Lucia.
"The little waves and ripples of the current," said Rollo.
* * * * *
When Rollo reached the hotel, a gentleman who met the party in the hall
said to him,--
"Well, Rollo, have you been to see Mont Blanc go out?"
"Yes, sir," said Rollo.
"And how did you like it?" said the gentleman.
"I liked it very much indeed," said Rollo. "I think it was sublime."