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 heart
From out the rose of pleasure.
I could forgive the fate that made
Me poor and young to-morrow,
To hare again the soul that played
So 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.”
The fact that I was listening to the narrative of a royal personage
was not the only bond of fascination to me, for somehow the tone of the
speaker's voice sounded familiarly to my ears, and I could have sworn
I had heard it before. As he was at the same side of the table with
myself, I could not see him; but while he continued to talk, the
impression grew each moment more strong that I must have met him
previously.
I could gather--it was easy enough to do so--from the animated looks
of the party, and the repeated bursts of laughter that followed his
sallies, that the newly arrived officer was a wit and authority amongst
his comrades. His elevated rank, too, may have contributed to this
popularity. Must I own that he appeared in the character that to me is
particularly offensive? He was a “narrator.” That vulgar adage of “two
of a trade” has a far wider acceptance when applied to the operations
of intellect than when addressed to the work of men's hands. To see this
jealousy at its height, you must look for it amongst men of letters,
artists, actors, or, better still, those social performers who are the
bright spirits of dinner-parties,--the charming men of society. All
the animosities of political or religious hate are mild compared to the
detestation this rivalry engenders; and now, though the audience was a
foreign one, which I could have no pretension to amuse, I conceived the
most bitter dislike for the man who had engaged their attention.
I do not know how it may be with others, but to myself there has always
been this difficulty in a foreign language, that until I have accustomed
myself to the tone of voice and the manner of a speaker, I can rarely
follow him without occasional lapses. Now, on the present occasion, the
narrator., though speaking distinctly, and with a good accent, had a
very rapid utterance, and it was not till I had familiarized my ear
with his manner that I could gather his words correctly. Nor was my
difficulty lessened by the fact that, as he pretended to be witty and
epigrammatic, frequent bursts of laughter broke from his audience and
obscured his speech. He was, as it appeared, giving an account of a
fishing excursion he had just taken to one of the small mountain lakes
near Poppenheim, and it was clear enough he was one who always could eke
an adventure out of even the most ordinary incident of daily life.
This fishing story had really nothing in it, though he strove to make
out fifty points of interest or striking situations out of the
veriest commonplace. At last, however, I saw that, like a practised
story-teller, he was hoarding up his great incident for the finish.
“As I have told you,” said he, “I engaged the entire of the little inn
for myself; there were but five rooms in it altogether, and though I
did not need more than two, I took the rest, that I might be alone and
unmolested. Well, it was on my second evening there, as I sat smoking my
pipe at the door, and looking over my tackle for the morrow, there came
up the glen the strange sound of wheels, and, to my astonishment, a
travelling-carriage soon appeared, with four horses driven in hand; and
as I saw in a moment, it was a _lohnkutscher_ who had taken the wrong
turning after leaving Ragatz, and mistaken the road, for the highway
ceases about two miles above Poppenheim, and dwindles down to a mere
mule-path. Leaving my host to explain the mistake to the travellers,
I hastily re-entered the house, just as the carriage drove up. The
explanation seemed a very prolix one, for when I looked out of the
window, half an hour afterwards, there were the horses still standing
at the door, and the driver, with a large branch of alder, whipping away
the flies from them, while the host continued to hold his place at the
carriage door. At last he entered my room, and said that the travellers,
two foreign ladies,--he thought them Russians,--had taken the wrong
road, but that the elder, what between fatigue and fear, was so overcome
that she could not proceed further, and entreated that they might be
afforded any accommodation--mere shelter for the night--rather than
retrace their road to Ragatz.
“'Well,' said I, carelessly, 'let them have the rooms on the other side
of the hall; so that they only stop for one night, the intrusion will
not signify.' Not a very gracious reply, perhaps, but I did not want to
be gracious. The fact was, as the old lady got out, I saw something like
an elephant's leg, in a fur boot, that quite decided me on not making
acquaintance with the travellers, and I was rash enough to imagine
they must be both, alike. Indeed, I was do resolute in maintaining my
solitude undisturbed, that I told my host on no account whatever to make
me any communication from the strangers, nor on any pretext to let me
feel that they were lodged under the same roof with myself. Perhaps,
if the next day had been one to follow my usual sport, I should have
forgotten all about them, but it was one of such rain as made it
perfectly impossible to leave the house. I doubt if I ever saw rain
like it. It came down in sheets, like water splashed out of buckets,
flattening the small trees to the earth, and beating down all the light
foliage into the muddy soil beneath; meanwhile the air shook with the
noise of the swollen torrents, and all the mountain-streams crashed and
thundered away, like great cataracts. Rain can really become grand at
such moments, and no more resembling a mere shower than the cry of a
single brawler in the streets is like the roar of a mighty multitude. It
was so fine that I determined I would go down to a little wooden bridge
over the river, whence I could see the stream as it came down, tumbling
and splashing, from a cleft in the mountain. I soon dressed myself in
all my best waterproofs,--hat, cape, boots, and all,--and set out Until
I was fully embarked on my expedition, I had no notion of the severity
of the storm, and it was with considerable difficulty I could make
bead against the wind and rain together, while the slippery ground made
walking an actual labor.
“At last I reached the river; but of the bridge, the only trace was a
single beam, which, deeply buried in the bank at one extremity, rose
and fell in the surging flood, like the arm of a drowning swimmer.
The stream had completely filled the channel, and swept along, with
fragments of timber, and even furniture, in its muddy tide; farm
produce, and implements too, came floating by, showing what destruction
had been effected higher up the river. As I stood gazing on the current,
I saw, at a little distance from me, a man, standing motionless beside
the river, and apparently lost in thought,--so, at least, he seemed; for
though not at all clad in a way to resist the storm, he remained there,
wet and soaked through, totally regardless of the weather. On
inquiring at the inn, I learned that this was the _lohnkutscher_--the
_vetturino_--of the travellers, and who, in attempting to ascertain if
the stream were fordable, had lost one of his best horses, and barely
escaped being carried away himself. Until that, I had forgotten all
about the strangers, who, it now appeared, were close prisoners like
myself. While the host was yet speaking, the _lohnkutscher_ came up, and
in a tone of equality, that showed me he thought I was in his own
line of business, asked if I would sell him one of my nags then in the
stable.
“Not caring to disabuse him of his error regarding my rank, I did not
refuse him so flatly as I might, and he pressed the negotiation very
warmly in consequence. At last, to get rid of him, I declared that I
would not break up my team, and retired into the house. I was not many
minutes in my room, when a courier came, with a polite message from his
mistress, to beg I would speak with her. I went at once, and found an
old lady,--she was English, as her French bespoke,--very well mannered
and well bred, who apologized for troubling me; but having heard from
her _vetturino_ that my horses were disengaged, and that I might, if not
disposed to sell one of them, hire out the entire team, to take their
carriage as far as Andeer--By the time she got thus far, I perceived
that she, too, mistook me for a _lohnkutscher_. It just struck me what
good fun it would be to carry on the joke. To be sure, the lady herself
presented no inducement to the enterprise; and as I thus balanced the
case, there came into the room one of the prettiest girls I ever saw.
She never turned a look towards where I was standing, nor deigned to
notice me at all, but passed out of the room as rapidly as she entered;
still, I remembered that I had already seen her before, and passed a
delightful evening in her company at a little inn in the Black Forest.”
When the narrator had got thus far in his story, I leaned forward to
catch a full view of him, and saw, to my surprise, and, I own, to my
misery, that he was the German count we had met at the Titi-See. So
overwhelming was this discovery to me, that I heard nothing for many
minutes after. All of that wretched scene between us on the last evening
at the inn came full to my memory, and I bethought me of lying the whole
night on the hard table, fevered with rage and terror alternately. If
it were not that his narrative regarded Miss Herbert now, I would have
skulked out of the room, and out of the inn, and out of the town itself,
never again to come under the insolent stare of those wicked gray eyes;
but in that name there was a fascination,--not to say that a sense of
jealousy burned at my heart like a furnace.
The turmoil of my thought lost me a great deal of his story, and might
have lost me more, had not the hearty laughter of his comrades recalled
me once again to attention.
He was describing how, as a _vetturino_, he drove their carriage with
his own spanking gray horses to Coire, and thence to Andeer. He had
bargained, it seemed, that Miss Herbert should travel outside in the
cabriolet, but she failed to keep her pledge, so that they only met
at stray moments during the journey. It was in one of these she said
laughingly to him,--
“'Nothing would surprise me less than to learn, some fine morning, that
you were a prince in disguise, or a great count of the empire, at least.
It was only the other day we were honored with the incognito presence of
a royal personage; I do not exactly know who, but Mrs. Keats could tell
you. He left us abruptly at Schaffbausen.'
“'You can't mean the creature,' said I, 'that I saw in your company at
the Titi-See?'
“'The same,' said she, rather angrily.
“'Why, he is a saltimbanque; I saw him the morning I came through
Constance, with some others of his troop dragged before the maire
for causing a disturbance in a cabaret; one of the most consummate
impostors, they told me, in Europe.'”
“An infamous falsehood, and a base liar the man who says it!” cried I,
springing to my legs, and standing revealed before the company in an
attitude of haughty defiance. “I am the person you have dared to defame.
I have never assumed to be a prince, and as little am I a rope-dancer.
I am an English gentleman, travelling for his pleasure, and I hurl back
every word you have said of me with contempt and defiance.”
Before I had finished this insolent speech, some half-dozen swords were
drawn and brandished in the air, very eager, as it seemed, to cut me to
pieces, and the Count himself required all the united strength of the
party to save me from his hands. At last I was pushed, hustled, and
dragged out of the room to another smaller one on the same floor, and,
the key being turned on me, left to my very happy reflections.