THE GLACIÈRE OF CHAPPET-SUR-VILLAZ, ON THE MONT PARMELAN, NEAR ANNECY.
We started southwards from the Glacière of _Grand Anu_, for such they
said was the proper name for the cave last described, and passed over
some of the wildest walking I have seen. All the most striking features
of a glacier were here reproduced in stone: now narrow deep crevasses
which only required a slight spring; now much more formidable rents,
which we were obliged to circumvent by a détour; now dark mysterious
holes with vertical shell-like partitions at various depths; and now a
perfect _moulin_, with fluted sides and every detail appertaining to
those remarkable pits, the hollow plunge of falling water alone
excepted. In other parts, the smooth slab-like appearance of the surface
reminded me of a curious district on one of the summits of the Jura,
where the French frontier takes the line of crest, and the old stones
marked with the _fleur-de-lys_ and the Helvetic cross are still to be
found. In those border regions the old historic distinctions are still
remembered, and the frontier Vaudois call the neighbouring French
_Bourguignons_--or, in their patois, _Borgognons_. They keep up the
tradition of old hatreds; and the strange bleak summit, with its smooth
slabs of Jura-chalk lying level with the surface, is so much like a vast
cemetery, that the wish in old times has been father to the thought, and
they call it still the Cemetery of the Burgundians, _Cimetiros ai
Borgognons_.[73]
After a time, we reached a tumbled chaos of rock, much resembling the
ice-fall of a glacier, and, on descending, and rounding a low spur of
the mountain so as to take a north-westerly course, we found ourselves
in a perfect paradise of flowers. One orchis I shall always regret.
There seemed to be only a single head, closely packed with flowerets,
and strongly scented; it was a pure white, not the green and
straw-coloured white of other scented orchises. There were large patches
of the delicate _faux-lis (Paradisia liliastrum)_; and though there
might not be anything very rare, and the lovely glacier-flowers were of
course wanting, the whole was a rich feast for anyone who cares more for
delicacy and colour than for botany.
The maire told us that he had found the glacière, for which we were now
in search, two years before, when he accompanied the government surveyor
to show him the forests and mountains which formed his property. As he
had on that occasion approached the spot from the other side, we walked
a long way to place him exactly where the surveyor and he had crossed
the ridge of the mountain, and then started him down from the Col in the
direction they had taken. He was certain of two things: first, that
they had passed by the Col between the Mont Parmelan and the Montagne de
l'Eau; and, secondly, that the glacière was within five minutes of the
highest point of the Col. For three-quarters of an hour we all broke our
shins, and the officials the Third Commandment. They invoked more saints
than I had ever heard of, and, in default, did not scruple to appeal
with shocking volubility to darker aid. It was all of no use,--and well
it might be; for when we had given it up in despair, after long patience
and a considerable period of the contrary, and had descended for half an
hour in the direction of a third glacière, I chanced to look back, and
saw that the Col in the neighbourhood of which we had been searching lay
between two points of the Montagne de l'Eau; while the true Col between
that mountain and the Mont Parmelan lay considerably to the west. When
it appears that a guide has probably made a mistake, the only plan is to
assume quietly that it is so, as if it were a matter of no consequence,
and then he may sometimes be decoyed into allowing the fact: I therefore
pointed out to the maire the true Col, and told him that was the one by
which he had passed southwards, when he found the glacière; to which,
with unnecessary strength of language, he at once assented. But all my
efforts to take him back were unavailing. Nothing in the world should
carry him up the mountain again, now that he had happily got so far
down. I worked his best and his worst feelings with equal want of
success; even national jealousy failed, and he was content to know that
a French maire had not pluck to face three-quarters of an hour of
climbing, when an English priest was ready to lead the way. The
schoolmaster declined to go alone with me, on the ground that neither of
us knew the mountain, and threatening clouds were gathering all around.
When, at last, I proposed to go by myself, they became menacingly
obstructive, and declared that I should certainly not be allowed to
face the intricacy of the mountain in a fog. Besides, as the maire put
it, he was sure of the way to the third glacière; and if I were to go up
alone to look for the second, I should lose a certainty for a chance, as
there was not time to visit both. So with an ill grace I continued the
descent with them, being restored to good humour before long by the
beauty of the Lake of Annecy, as seen from our elevated position.
It is so impossible to accept in full the accounts one picks up of
natural curiosities, that I give the maire's description of the stray
glacière only for what it is worth. It was not extracted without much
laborious cross-examination--_sais paw vous le dire_ being the average
answer to my questions. The entrance to the cave is about twice as high
as a man, and is in a small shallow basin of rock and grass. The floor
is level with the entrance, and the roof rises inside to a good height.
In shape it is like a Continental bread-oven; and at the time of the
maire's visit, the floor was a confused mass of ice and stones, the
former commencing at the very entrance. There was no ice except on the
floor, the area of which might be as large as that of the surface of the
ice in the Glacière of Grand Anu. No pit was to be seen, and not a drop
of water. Snow could have drifted in easily, but they saw no signs of
any remaining. If this account be true, especially with respect to the
position of the entrance and the horizontal direction of the floor, I
have seen no glacière like it.
We descended for a time through fir-woods, and then again down steep and
barren rocks, till we reached the sharp slope of grass which so
frequently connects the base of a mountain with the more civilised
forests and the pasturages below. The maire led us for some distance
along the top of this grass slope, towards the west, skirting the rocks
till they became precipitous and lofty, when he said we must be near
our point. Still we went on and on without seeing any signs of it, and
our guide seemed in despair; and I, for one, entirely gave up the third
cave to the same fate as the second, and became very sulky and
remonstrative. The entrance to the glacière, the maire told us, was a
hole in the face of the highest rocks, 3 or 4 yards only above the
grass; and as we had now reached a part of the mountain where the rock
springs up smooth and high, and we could command the whole face, and yet
saw nothing, the schoolmaster came over to my side, and told the maire
he was a humbug. However, we were then within a few yards of the desired
spot, and half-a-dozen steps showed us a small _cheminée_, down
which a strong and icy current of wind blew. The maire shouted a shout
of triumph, and climbed the _cheminée_; and when we also had done the
necessary gymnastics, we found a hole facing almost due north, all
within being dark. The current blew so determinedly, that matches were
of no use, and I was obliged to seek a sheltered corner before I could
light a candle; and, when lighted, the candle was with difficulty kept
from being blown out. No ice was visible, nor any signs of such a
thing,--nothing but a very irregular narrow cave, with darkness at the
farther end. As we advanced, we found that the floor of the cave came to
a sudden end, and the darkness developed into a strange narrow fissure,
which reached out of sight upwards, and out of sight below; and down
this the maire rolled stones, saying that _there_ was the glacière, if
only one could get at it without a _tourneau_. Considering the
persistency with which he had throughout declared that there was no
possible need for a rope, I gave him some of my mind here, in that
softened style which his official dignity demanded; but he excused
himself by saying that the gentleman who owned the glacière, and
extracted the ice for private use only, was now living at his summer
châlet, a mile or two off, and he, the maire, had felt confident that
the _tourneau_ would have been fitted up for the season.
On letting a candle down from the termination of the floor, we found
that the perpendicular drop was not more than 12 feet, and from the
shelf thus reached it seemed very possible to descend to the farther
depths of the fissure; but I had become so sceptical, that I persisted
in asserting that there was no ice below. The maire's manner, also, was
strange, and I suspected that the cold current of air had caused the
place to be called a glacière, with any other qualification on the part
of the cave. One thing was evident,--no snow could reach the fissure. M.
Métrai was determined that I must not attempt the descent, pointing out,
what was quite true, that though the fall was not great, there seemed no
possibility of getting back up the smooth rock. His arguments increased
my suspicions; so, leaving all apparatus behind, I dropped down to join
the candle, rather hoping to have the satisfaction of sending them off
for a rope, in case I could not achieve the last few feet in returning,
and knowing that there was no danger of the fate which once threatened
the chamois-hunting Kaiser Max.[74]
The drop turned out to be a mere nothing, and, taking the candle, I
scrambled on, down the sloping floor of the fissure, towards the heart
of the mountain, expecting every moment that my further passage would be
stopped by solid rock. But, after reaching a part so narrow that I was
obliged to mount by both sides at once in order to get past it, I found
a commodious gallery, opening out into a long and narrow and very lofty
cavern, still only a fissure, the floor of which continued the regular
and rapid slope down which I had so far come. A short way farther down,
an opening appeared to the left; and I turned off the main passage into
a horizontal gallery or chamber, with a floor of ice resting on rock and
stones. This chamber seemed to be 3 or 4 yards wide at the entrance,
narrowing regularly to 4 1/2 feet. It was 40 feet long, and at the
farther end, which would not have been visible from the entrance, on
account of a slight bend in the ice-gallery, even if there had been any
light, it was closed by an ice-cascade 7 yards high and 4 1/2 feet broad
at the bottom. The ice of much of this cascade was so clear, that I saw
the rock upon which it rested, or in some parts did not rest, quite
plainly, and the large air-cavities in the structure were beautifully
shown by the richly-coloured rock behind. None of the current which we
had observed above, and which had nearly baffled my protecting care of
the candle during the descent, came from this gallery; but I find it
written in my notes that the gallery was _very_ cold. Thaw was going on,
rather rapidly; and the water stole out by the entrance, and ran down
the main descent, over ice and among rocks, into the farther darkness.
When I came out again from this gallery, I mounted the slope towards my
companions, and tried to tempt them down. The maire felt himself to be
too valuable to his country to be lightly risked, and declined to come;
but Rosset took a bold heart, and dropped, after requiring from me a
solemn promise that I would give him a back for his return up the rock.
We visited the gallery I had already explored, and, as we stood admiring
the cascade of ice, a skilful drop of water came from somewhere, and
extinguished our only candle. My matches were with the maire; and I was
equally sure that he would not bring them down to us, and that we could
not go up to fetch them without a light. Rosset, however, very
fortunately, had a box in his pocket for smoking purposes; and we cut
off the wet wick, and cut down the composition to form another, and so
contrived to light the candle again. While we were thus engaged, I
chanced to look up for a moment, and saw far above our heads a small
opening in the roof, through which a few rays of light entered from the
outer world. It was so very far above us, that the uncertain rays were
lost long before they got down to our level, being absorbed in the
universal darkness, and being in fact rather suggested than visible even
at their strongest. Those who have been at Lauterbrunnen in a very dry
season, will understand how these rays presented the appearance of a
ghostly Staubbach of unreal light. We must have been at an immense depth
below the surface in which the opening lay; and if there had been a long
day before us, it would have been curious to search for the fissure
above. Sir Thomas Browne says, in the _Religio Medici,_ 'Conceive light
invisible, and that is a spirit.' We very nearly saw a spirit here.
The descent from the mouth of this chamber to the deeper recesses of the
main fissure was very rough, but was speedily accomplished, and we
reached a point where solid rock stopped us in face; while, to the
right, a chamber with a threshold of ice was visible, and, to the left,
a dark opening, down which the descent appeared to continue. From this
opening all the strong cold current came. We took the ice-chamber first.
The entrance had evidently been closed till very lately by a large
column of ice, and we passed over the débris, between rock portals and
on a floor of solid grey ice, into a triangular cave of any height the
imagination might choose to fix. The entire floor of the cave was of
ice, giving the impression of infinite thickness and firmness. A little
water stood on it, near the threshold, so limpid that we could not see
where it commenced. The base of this triangular floor we found to be 17
feet, and its altitude 30 feet; and though these dimensions may seem
comparatively small, the whole effect of the thick mass of ice on which
we stood, with the cascades of ice in the corners, and the ice-figures
on the walls, and the three sides of the cave passing up into sheer
darkness, was exceedingly striking, situated, as it all was, so deep
down in the bowels of the earth. The original entrance to the fissure,
at the top of the _cheminée_, was, as has been said, at the base of
lofty rocks, and we had descended very considerably from the entrance;
so that, even without the strange light thrown upon the matter by the
small hole overhead, through which we had seen the day struggling to
force its way into the cavern, we should have been sure that we were now
at an immense distance below the surface. One corner of the cave was
occupied by a broad and solid-looking cascade, while another corner
showed the opening of a very narrow fissure, curved like one of the
shell-shaped crevasses of a glacier. Into this fissure the ice-floor
streamed; and Rosset held my coat-tails while I made a few steps down
the stream, when the fall became too rapid for further voluntary
progress. I let down a stone for 18 feet, when it stuck fast, and would
move neither one way nor the other. The upper wall of this fissure was
clothed with moss-like ice, and ice of the prismatic structure,--with
here and there large scythe-blades, as it were, attached by the sharp
edge to the rock, and lying vertically with the heel outwards. One of
these was 11 inches deep, from the heel to the rock, and only one-eighth
of an inch thick at the thickest part.
The angle occupied by the cascade or column was the most striking. The
base of the column was large, and apparently solid, like a smooth
unbroken waterfall suddenly frozen. It fitted into the angle of the
cave, and completely filled up the space between the contiguous walls. I
commenced to chop with my axe, and before long found that this ice was
hollow, though very thick; and when a sufficient hole was made for me to
get through, I saw that what had looked like a column was in truth only
a curtain of ice hung across the angle of the cave. Within the curtain
the ice-floor still went on, streaming down at last into a fissure
something like that in the other corner. The curtain was so low, that I
was obliged to sit on the ice inside to explore; and after a foot or two
of progress, the slope towards the fissure became sufficiently great
to require steps to be cut. The stream of ice turned round a bend in the
fissure, very near the curtain, and was lost to view; but Rosset stood
by the hole through which I had passed--on the safer side of it--and
despatched blocks of ice, which glided past me round the corner, and
went whizzing on for a long time, eventually landing upon stones, and
sometimes, we fancied, in water. It is very awkward work, sitting on a
gentle slope of the smoothest possible ice, with a candle in one hand,
and an axe in the other, cutting each step in front; especially when
there is nothing whatever to hold by, and the slope is sufficient to
make it morally certain that in case of a slip all must go together. Of
course, a rope would have made all safe. When I groaned over the maire's
obstinacy, Rosset asked what could possibly be the use of a rope, if I
were to slip; and, to my surprise, I found that he had no idea what I
wanted a rope for. When he learned that, had there been one, he would
have played a large part in the adventure, and that he might have had me
dangling over an ice-fall out of sight round the corner, he added his
groans to mine, and would evidently have enjoyed it all very much. At
the same time, he was prudent, and, as each block of ice made its final
plunge, he told me that was what would happen to me if I went any
farther: and, really, the pictures he drew of deep lakes of icy water
and jagged points of rock, between which I must make my choice down
there, were so unpleasant, that at last I desisted, and pushed myself up
backwards, still in a sitting posture, calling Rosset and the maire the
worst names I could feel justified in using. On the way, I found one of
the large brown flies which we had seen in the Glacière of La
Genollière, and in the Lower Glacière of the Pré de S. Livres.
Rosset now told me he was so cold he could stand it no longer; but,
after a little pressure, and a declaration on my part that he should not
have a candle for going up again, he consented to remain with me while I
explored the remaining chamber, the lowest of all. This chamber may be
called a continuation of the main passage. It is of about the same width
as the highest of the three chambers, and the floor descends rapidly,
the cold current of air becoming very strong and biting as we penetrated
into the darkness. As the Genevese _savans_ seemed to believe in 'cold
currents' as the cause of underground ice, I was naturally anxious to
see as much as possible of the state of this gallery, from which every
particle of the current seemed to come. We very soon reached a narrow
dark lake, and, exclaiming that here was ice again, I stepped, not on
to, but into it, and found that it was water. When our solitary candle
was brought to bear upon it, we saw that it was so clear as not in any
way to impede our view, producing rather the effect of slightly-clouded
spectacles upon the stones at the bottom. This lake filled up the whole
breadth of the gallery, here perhaps 4 or 5 feet, and rapidly passed to
the depth of a yard; but for a little distance there were unstable
stones at one edge, and steps in the rock-wall, by which I could pass
on still into the darkness, supported by an alpenstock planted in the
water. The current of cold air blew along the surface of the water from
the farther extremity of the gallery, wherever that might be. As far as
our eyes could reach, we saw nothing but the black channel of water,
with its precipitous sides passing up beyond our sight. It might have
been possible to progress in a spread-eagle fashion, with one hand and
one foot on each side; but a fall would have been so bitterly
unpleasant, that I made a show of condescension in acceding to Rosset's
request that I would not attempt such a thing. In the course of my
return to the rocks where he stood, I involuntarily fathomed the
depth of the lake, luckily in a shallower part, and was so much struck
by the coldness of the water, that I left Rosset with the candle, and
struggled up without a light to the place where we had left the maire,
or rather to the bottom of the drop from the entrance-cave, to get the
thermometer. The maire was sunning himself on the rock, out of reach of
the cold current; but he came in, and let down the case, and I quickly
rejoined the schoolmaster. At first, it would have been impossible to
move about without a light; but our eyes had now become to some extent
accustomed to the darkness, and I had learned the difficulties of the
way.
When the thermometers were suspended in the water, Rosset asked how long
they must stay there. I rashly answered, a quarter of an hour; on which
he demanded indignantly whether I supposed he meant to stay in that cold
for a quarter of an hour. He had now the candle in his own possession,
and I was propped on a stone and an alpenstock in the lake, so he turned
to go, vowing that he would leave me alone in the dark if I did not come
out at once. There was no help for it, as the thermometer would have
been of no use without a candle, and a step in the dark is not pleasant
when all around is water, so I slowly drew up the thermometer and read
33° F. In making final arrangements for departure, I let it lie in the
water for a few seconds longer, and it fell to 32½°; but Rosset would
not stay a moment longer, and I was obliged to be content with that
result. He made himself very easy about the matter, and said we must
call it zero; and in the evening I heard him telling the maire that the
greatest of the wonders he had missed, by his patriotic care for his
neck, was a lake of water which did not freeze, though its temperature
was zero (centigrade).
Among the stones at the bottom of this water, I saw here and there
patches of a furry sort of ice. I have often watched the freezing of a
rapid Scotch stream, where, in the swifter parts, the ice forms first at
the bottom and gradually creeps up the larger stones till it appears on
the surface, and becomes a nucleus, round which pieces of floating ice
collect; and the substance in the glacière-lake had exactly the same
appearance as the Scotch ground-ice. But it could not be the same thing
in reality, for, as far as I understand the phenomenon of ground-ice,
some disturbed motion of the water is necessary, to drive down below the
surface the cold particles of water, which become ice the moment they
strike upon any solid substance shaped like fractured stone;[75] the
specific gravity of freezing water being so much less than that of water
at a somewhat higher temperature, that without some disturbing cause it
would not sink to the bottom.[76] So that it seems probable that the ice
at the bottom of the lake was the remains of a solid mass, of which the
greater part had been converted into water by some warm influence or
other. We noticed that a little water trickled down among the stones
which formed the slope of descent into the lowest gallery, so that
perhaps the lake was a collection of water from all parts of the various
ramifications of the fissure. Whence came the icy wind, it is impossible
to say, without further exploration. It was satisfactory to me to find
that the 'cold current' of the Genevese _savans_ was thus associated
with water, and not with ice, in the only cave in which I had detected
its presence to any appreciable extent, the currents of the Glacière of
Monthézy being of a totally different description.
When we reached the final rock, in ascending, I offered Rosset the
promised back, but he got up well enough without it. Before leaving the
entrance-cave, we inspected the thermometer which we had left to test
the temperature of the current of air, and, to my surprise, found it
standing at 48°. We saw, however, that it had been carelessly propped on
a piece of rock which sheltered it from the influence of the current, so
I exposed it during the time occupied in arranging the bag of tapes,
&c., and it fell to 36°: whether it would have fallen lower, the
impatience of Rosset has left me unable to say. If I can ever make an
opportunity for visiting the Mont Parmelan again, I shall hope to take a
cord, in order to investigate the mysterious corner of the triangular
chamber; and I shall certainly make myself independent of shivering
Frenchmen while I measure the temperature of the lake and the current of
air. We met a man outside who said that he was employed by the owner, M.
de Chosal of Annecy, to cut the ice; he had been down three times to the
lowest gallery in different years, in the end of July, and had always
found the same collection of water there. The glacière, he told us, was
discovered about thirty years ago.
The maire had basked in the sun all the time we were down below, and
he expressed himself as much pleased that we had found so much to
interest us, in spite of the miscarriage of our efforts to reach the
second glacière. We set off down the steep grass at a scrambling
sliding run, against which I was speedily obliged to protest,
explaining that a certain ugly inflammation above the left knee was
becoming worse every other step, and as the leg must last three days
longer, it would be as well to humour it. They saw the force of this
reasoning, and we descended with much gravity till we came in sight of
the _Mairie_, still half an hour off, when Rosset cried out that he
smelled supper, and rushed off at an infectious pace down the
remainder of the mountain-side.
We reached the _Mairie_ at six o'clock, and sat down at once 'to eat
something.' The first course was bread and kirsch; and when that was
finished, six boiled eggs appeared, and a quart _carafe_ of white wine.
These having vanished, their place was taken by a dish of sodden
cabbage, and another quart of wine; but, to save the credit of the maire
and the schoolmaster, I will not say how often the former functionary
descended to the cellar with a quart pitcher, with increasing
impetuosity. Next came a dish of onions, with a pretence of
_mange-tout,_ broiled brown after boiling, and served in a compound fat;
and then haricots with a like condiment, and with a flavour reminiscent
of the previous course. There was some talk of a _poulet_; but the bird
still lived, and the talk came to nothing. The dinner ended with the
haricots, and we then relapsed into dessert, namely, bread and kirsch.
The mayoress came in with the dessert, and sat on the end of the bench,
below the hats and the bread-tin, eating the remaining onions off the
dish with the spoon of nature.
During one of the maire's frequent visits to the cellar, I propounded
a question to the schoolmaster which had puzzled me for some time: Was
I to pay the maire? M. Rosset said that it was certainly not
_necessary_, but I had better propose it, and I should then see how M.
Métral took it. This I accordingly did, when the adieux in the house
had been said, and my host was showing me the way to Thorens, where I
was to sleep, he, also, declared that it was not necessary--the
pleasure he had experienced in accompanying me had already fully
recompensed him: still, if I wished to reimburse him for that which I
had actually cost, he was a man reasonable, and in all cases content.
I calculated that the dinner and wine which had fallen to my share
would be dear at a franc, and the day's wage of a substitute to do the
maire's neglected work could not come to much, so I boldly and
unblushingly gave that great man four francs, and he said regretfully
that it was more than enough. To his son and heir--the identical boy
who had brought the ring of bread up the mountain to the châlet where
we lunched. I gave something under two-pence, for guiding me across
two doubtful fields into a beaten track, and he expressed himself as
even more content than the maire. They both told me that it was
impossible to miss the way; but I imagine that I achieved that
impossibility, as I had to walk through two streams in the deepening
twilight, and the prevailing fear of water in that region is very
considerable.
The _auberge_ at Thorens to which the maire had recommended me, as being
the best, and kept by a personal friend of his, bore the sign _à la
Parfaite Union_. The entry was by the kitchen, and through the steam and
odour of onions, illuminated by one doubtful oil-lamp, I saw the
guest-room filled with people in Sunday dress, while two fiddles played
each its own tune in its own time. Nothing but the potent name of M. the
Maire of Aviernoz gained me even a hearing; and, for a bed, I was
obliged to stretch my intimacy with that exalted personage to the very
furthest bounds of truth. Chappaz Nicolai, whose name the maire had
written in my note-book, that there might be no mistake, appeared to be
of that peculiar mental calibre which warrants Yorkshire peasants in
describing a man as 'half-rocked,' or 'not plumb.' His wife, on the
other hand, was one of those neat, gentle, sensible women, of whom one
wonders how they ever came to marry such thick-lipped and blear-eyed
men. Between them they informed me that if I did not object to share a
room, I could be taken in; otherwise--maire or no maire--not. I asked
whether they meant half a bed; but they said no, that would not be
necessary at present; and I accepted the offered moiety of accommodation,
as it was now seventeen hours since I had started in the morning, and I
was not inclined to turn out in the dark to look for a whole room
elsewhere.
The stairs were a sort of cross between a ladder and nothing, and when
we reached the proposed room a large mastiff was in possession, who
would not let us enter till the master was summoned to expel him. The
furniture consisted of a table and five chairs, with no bed or beds. On
the chairs were various articles of clothing, blouses and garments more
profound, belonging probably to members of the party below; and on the
table, a bottle of water and a soup-plate, the pitcher and basin of the
house. It was a mere slip of a room, with two diamond-shaped holes in
one wall, whose purpose I discovered when my guide opened a papered
door, in which were the holes, and displayed two beds foot to foot in an
alcove. One of these, she was sure, would be too short for me, but she
feared I must be satisfied with it, as the other was much broader and
would therefore hold the two messieurs. How the _two_? I asked, and was
told that two _pensionnaires_ lived in this room; but they were old
friends, and for one night would sleep in the same bed to oblige
monsieur. The ideas of length and breadth in connection with the beds
were entirely driven from my head by the fact of their dirtiness; and I
determined that if the two _pensionnaires_ occupied the one, the other
should be unoccupied.
After arranging things a little, I struggled down the steps again, and
ordered coffee and bread in a little room, which commanded the assembly
with the fiddles in the larger _salle_. The head waitress, busy as she
was, found time to come now and then to an open window near where I sat,
and talked to a male friend sitting outside in the dark: indeed, she
did more than talk, and people had to rattle their glasses very hard
before they could make her hear. From her I learned that this was a
marriage party which had arrived; and when I asked why they did not
dance, as the fiddles were engaged at that moment with unwonted
unanimity upon dance-music, she gave me to understand that these were
not people of Thorens, but only a party from another village, making the
evening promenade after the wedding: from which it would seem that it is
not the etiquette for people to dance under such circumstances, except
in the home village. They sat round a table, men and women alternately,
with their hats on, and with glasses before them. The bride and
bridegroom were accommodated with a bench to themselves at the head of
the table, he likewise with his hat on, and with a pipe in his mouth,
which, seeing that he was a demonstrative bridegroom, one might have
supposed to be an inconvenience. He managed very well, however, and
every one seemed contented: indeed, the pipe must, I think, be held to
be no difficulty; for the men all smoked, and yet, to judge from
appearances, there was a prospect of as many marriages as there were
couples in the room. The unruffled gravity, however, and the apparent
want of zest, both in giving and receiving, which characterised the
proceedings specially referred to, led me to suppose that it might be
only a part of the etiquette, and so meant nothing serious.
Between ten and eleven the fiddles and the party vanished, and I went
up-stairs more determined than ever not to touch a bed, after my
experience of the room below. Three chairs were speedily arranged
between the table and wall, and on these I lay and tried to sleep. But
the very chairs were populous, as I had found below, and sleep was
impossible. Moreover, soon after eleven, a soldier came into the room,
to arrange about his breakfast with one of the maidens in the
house. He had heard me order fresh butter for six o'clock, and he was
anxious to know, whether, by breakfasting at five o'clock, he could
get my butter. The chairs which formed my bed were under the lee of
the table, so that the figure recumbent on them was invisible, and the
gallant soldier, under the impression that there was no one in the
room, enforced his arguments by other than conventional means. But
military lips, when applied personally, proved to be a rhetoric as
unsuccessful as military words. The maid was platonic, and something
more than platonic; and the hero got so much the worst of it, that he
gave up the battle, and changed the subject to a conscript in his
charge, who had locked himself in his bed-room and would not answer.
How was he to know whether he had the conscript safe? All this lasted
some time; and when they were gone, one of the _pensionnaires_ came
in. With him I had to fight the battle of the window, which I had
opened to its farthest extent. After he had got over the first
surprise and shock of finding me on the chairs instead of in the bed,
for whose comfort he vouched enthusiastically, he became confident
that it was merely out of complaisance to him and his comrade that I
had opened the window, and assured me that they really did not care
for fresh air, even if they could feel the difference in the alcove,
which he declared they could not. As soon as that was arranged to my
satisfaction, the other _pensionnaire_ came in, and with him the
battle was fought with only half success, for he peremptorily closed
one side of the window. He was a particularly noisy _pensionnaire_,
and shied his boots into every corner of the room before they were
posed to his satisfaction. As far as I could tell, the removal of the
boots was the only washing and undressing either of them did; and then
they arranged their candles in the alcove, lighted cigars, and got
into bed. There the wretches sat up on end, smoking and talking
vehemently, till sheer exhaustion came to my aid, and I fell asleep;
but the edges of the rush-bottomed chairs speedily became so sharp
that a recumbent posture ceased to be possible, and I sat dozing on
one chair. A little before four o'clock, the noisier man got up to
look for his boots; and as the friends continued their discussion, I
also turned out and made for the nearest stream, where I bathed in a
rapid at half-past four, to wash away, if possible, the horrors of the
night.
FOOTNOTES:
[Footnote 73: The true _Cimetière des Bourguignons_ is the enclosure
where René, the victor of Nancy, buried the Burgundians who fell on the
sad Sunday when Charles the Bold went down before the deaf châtelain
Claude de Bagemont.]
[Footnote 74: Neither of my companions, I fear, would have acted as
Sejanus did, when another emperor was in danger of his life in the cave
on the Gulf of Amyclæ. (Tacit. Ann. iv. 59.)]
[Footnote 75: Water reduced to a temperature below 32° without
freezing, begins to freeze as soon as a crystal is dropped into it, the
ice forming first on the faces of the crystal.]
[Footnote 76: Water attains its maximum of specific gravity at 40°.
Below 40° it becomes lighter.]
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