Day-dream--River Iller--Ulm--A stiff king--Lake
Constance--Seeing in the dark--Switzerland--Coloured
Canvas--Sign talk--Synagogue--Amelia--Gibberish.
The threatening rain had not come during the night, and it was a lovely
morning next day, like all the rest before and after it; and as we were
leaving this place I found it was called Gegglingen,[XV.] and was only
nine miles from Ulm.
[XV.] It will be noticed how the termination "_ingen_" is common
here. Thus in our water route we have passed Donaueschingen, Geisingen,
Mehringen, Tuttlingen, Friedingen, Sigmaringen, Riedlingen, Ehingen,
Dischingen, and Gegglingen, the least and last. In England we have the
"ing" in Dorking, Kettering, &c.
The lofty tower of the Cathedral of this town soon came in view, but I
noticed it without any pleasure, for this was to end my week on the
Danube; and in my ship's log it is entered as "one of the most pleasant
weeks of my life for scenery, health, weather, exercise, and varied
adventure."
In a pensive mood, therefore, I landed at a garden, and reclined on a
warm mossy bank to have a rest and a day-dream, but very soon the loud
booming of artillery aroused the hill echoes, and then sharp rattling of
infantry firing. The heights around were crested with fringes of
blue-coated soldiers and glistening bayonets, amid the soft round,
cotton-like volumes of smoke from the great guns spurting out fire long
before the sound comes. It was a review of troops and a sham attack on a
fort surmounting the hill, near the battlefield of long years ago at
Ulm. If they fought in heat and fury, let them now rest in peace.
Come back, my thoughts, to the river at my feet.
I had been with this river from its infancy, nay, even from its birth in
the Schwartzwald. I had followed it right and left, as it seemed to
toddle in zigzag turnings like a child; and I had wound with it hither
and thither as it roamed away further like free boyhood. Then it grew in
size by feeding on the oozy plain, and was still my companion when it
got the strength of youth, dashing over the rocks, and bounding through
the forests; and I had come at last to feel its powerful stream stronger
than my strength, and compelling my respect. And now, at Ulm, I found it
a noble river, steady and swift, as if in the flower of age; but its
romance was gone. It had boats on it, and navigation, and bridges, and
railways, like other great waters; and so I would let it go on alone,
tumbling, rushing, swelling, till its broad bosom bears whole fleets at
Ofen, and at length as a great water giant it leaps down headlong into
the Black Sea.
Having seen Ulm in a former tour, I was in no mood to "go over" the
sights again, nor need they be related here, for it is only river travel
and lake sailing that we are concerned with; while reference may be made
to the Guide-books if you wish to hear this sort of thing: "Ulm, lat.
97°, an old Cathedral (_a_) town, on two (§) hills (see Appx.). Pop.
9763; situated [+][+] on the Danube." At that I stop, and
look into the water once more.
The river is discoloured here,--what is called in Scotland "drumly;" and
this seems partly owing to the tributary _Iller_, which rises in the
Tyrol, and falls into the Danube, a little way above the town. The Iller
has a peculiar air of wild, forlorn bleakness, with its wide channel
half occupied by cold white gravel, and its banks scored and torn, with
weird, broken roots, gnarled trees, bleakness and fallen, all lying
dishevelled; surely in flood times, and of dark wintry nights, a very
deluge boils and seethes along there.
Then, at last, there are the barges on the Danube, and very rudimental
they are; huge in size, with flat bottoms, and bows and stems cocked up,
and a roofed house in the middle of their sprawling length. The German
boys must have these models before them when they make the Noah's Arks
for English nurseries; and Murray well says of these barges, they are
"nothing better than wooden sheds floating in flat trays."
In 1839 a steamer was tried here, but it got on a bank, and the effort
was abandoned; so you have to go on to Donauwerth before this mode of
travelling is reached, but from thence you can steam down to the Black
Sea, and the passage boats below Vienna are very fast and well
appointed.
Rafts there are at Ulm, but we suppose the timber for them comes by the
Iller, for I did not notice any logs descending the upper part of the
Danube.
Again, there are the public washhouses in the river, each of them a
large floating establishment, with overhanging eaves, under which you
can see, say, fifty women all in a row, half kneeling or leaning over
the low bulwarks, and all slapping your best shirts mercilessly.
I made straight over to these ladies, and asked how the Rob Roy could
get up so steep a bank, and how far it was to the railway; and so their
senior matron kindly got a man and a hand-cart for the boat, and, as the
company of women heard it was from England, they all talked louder and
more together, and pounded and smacked the unfortunate linen with
additional emphasis.
The bustle at the railway-station was only half about the canoe; the
other half was for the King of Wurtemburg, who was getting into his
special train to go to his palace at Fredrickshafen.
Behold me, then, fresh from Gegglingen and snags, in the immediate
presence of Royalty! But this King was not at all kingly, though
decidedly stiff. He is, however, rather amusing sometimes; as when by
his order, issued lately, he compels sentries to salute even empty Royal
carriages.
I got a newspaper here, and had twelve days to overtake of the world's
doings while we had roamed in hill, forest, and waves. Yet I had been
always asked there to "give the news," and chiefly on two points,--the
Great Eastern, with its electric cable, and the catastrophe on the
Matterhorn glacier, the two being at times vaguely associated, as if
the breaking of the cable in the one had something to do with the loss
of mountaineers in the other.
So, while I read, the train bore us southwards to Fredrickshafen, the
canoe being charged as baggage three shillings, and patiently submitting
to have a numbered label pasted on its pretty brown face.
This lively port, on the north side of the Lake of Constance, has a
charming view in front of it well worth stopping to enjoy. It is not
fair to treat it as only a half-hour's town, to be seen while you are
waiting for the lake steamer to take you across to Switzerland.
But now I come to it for a Sunday's rest (if you wish to travel fast and
far, rest every Sunday), and, as the hotel faced the station, and the
lake faced the hotel, this is the very place to stop in with a canoe.
So we took the boat upstairs into a loft, where the washerwoman not only
gave room for the well worked timbers of the Rob Roy to be safe and
still, but kindly mended my sails, and sundry other odds and ends of a
wardrobe, somewhat disorganized by rough times.
Next day there was service in the Protestant church, a fine building,
well filled, and duly guarded by a beadle in bright array.
The service began by a woman singing "Comfort ye" from Handel, in
exquisite taste and simple style, with a voice that made one forget that
this solemn melody is usually sung by a man. Then a large number of
school children were ranged in the chancel, round a crucifix, and sang a
very beautiful hymn, and next the whole congregation joined in chanting
the psalms in unison, with tasteful feeling and devoutness. A young
German preacher gave us an eloquent sermon, and then the people were
dismissed.
The afternoon was drummed away by two noisy bands, evidently rivals, and
each determined to excel the other in loudness, while both combined to
persecute the poor visitors who _do_ wish for quietness, at any rate
once a week. I could scarcely escape from this din in a long walk by the
lake, and on coming back found a man bathing by moonlight, while
rockets, squibs, and Catherine wheels were let off in his boat. Better
indeed was it to look with entranced eyes on the far off snowy range,
now lit up by the full harvest moon, and on the sheen of "each
particular star," bright above, and bright again below, in the mirror of
the lake.
The Lake of Constance is forty-four miles long, and about nine miles
wide. I could not see a ripple there when the Rob Roy was launched at
early morn, with my mind, and body, and soul refreshed, and an eager
longing to begin the tour of Switzerland once more, but now in so new a
fashion. Soon we were far from the shore, and in that middle distance of
the lake where all sides seem equally near, and where the "other side"
appears never to get any nearer as you go on. Here, in the middle, I
rested for a while, and the sensation then was certainly new. Beauty was
everywhere around, and there was full freedom to see it. There was no
cut-and-dry route to be followed, no road, not even a track on the
water, no hours, or time to constrain. I could go right or left by a
stroke of the paddle, and I was utterly my own master of whither to
steer, and where to stop.
The "pat-a-pat" of a steamer's wheels was the only sound, and that was
very distant, and when the boat came near, the passengers cheered the
canoe, and smiles of (was it not?) envy told of how pleasant and pretty
she looked. After a little wavering in my plans, I settled it was best
to go to the Swiss side, and, after coasting by the villages, I selected
a little inn in a retired bay, and moored my boat, and ordered
breakfast. Here was an old man of eighty-six, landlord and waiter in
one, a venerable man, and I respect age more while growing older.
He talked with me for five hours while I ate, read, and sketched, and
feasted my eyes on mountain views, and answered vaguely to his remarks,
said in a sleepy way, and in a hot, quiet, basking sun. There are
peaceful and almost dreamy hours of rest in this water tour, and they
are sweet too after hard toil. It is not all rapids and struggles when
you journey with a canoe.
Close to the inn was the idiot asylum, an old castle with poor demented
women in it. The little flag of my boat attracted their attention, and
all the inmates were allowed to come out and see it, with many smiles of
pleasure, and many odd remarks and gestures.
Disentangling myself from this strange group, I landed again further
down, and, under a splendid tree, spent an hour or two in carpenter's
work (for I had a few tools on board), to repair the boat's damages and
to brighten her up a bit for the English eyes I must expect in the next
part of the voyage.
Not a wave had energy to rise on the lake in the hot sun. A sheep-bell
tinkled now and then, but in a tired, listless, and irregular way. A
gossamer spider had spun his web from my mast to the tree above, and
wagtails hopped near me on the stones, and turned an inquiring little
eye to the boat half in the water, and its master reclining on the
grass. It was an easy paddle from this to the town of Constance, at the
end of the lake.
Here a _douanier_ made a descent upon me and was inexorable. "You _must_
have the boat examined." "Very well, pray examine it." His Chief was
absent, and I must put the canoe in the Custom-house till to-morrow
morning. An hour was wasted in palaver about this, and at first I
protested vigorously against such absurdity in "free Switzerland." But
Constance is not in Switzerland, it is in the Grand Duchy of Baden, and
so to keep it "grand," they must do very little things, and at any rate
can trouble travellers. At length an obliging native, ashamed of the
proceeding, remonstrated with the douanier, and persuaded him at least
to search the boat and let it pass.
He took as much time to inspect as if she were a brig of 300 tons, and,
when he came to look at the stern, I gravely pointed to a round hole cut
in the partition for this very purpose! Into this hole he peered, while
the crowd was hushed in silence, and as he saw nothing but darkness,
extremely dark, for (nothing else was there), he solemnly pronounced the
canoe "free," and she was duly borne to the hotel.
But Constance once had a man in it who was really "grand," John Huss,
the noble martyr for the truth. In the Council Hall you see the
veritable cell in which he was imprisoned some hundreds of years ago,
and on a former visit I had seen, from the tower, through a telescope,
the field where the faggots burned him, and from whence his great soul
leaped up to heaven out of the blazing pile.
"Avenge, O Lord, thy slaughtered saints, whose bones
Lie scattered on the Alpine mountains cold;
E'en them who kept thy truth so pure of old
When all our fathers worshipped stocks and stones."
--_Milton._
Does not a thought or two on such great things make other common things
look small?
True and good--but we may not stop always in the lake to ponder thus,
for the current is moving again, so let us launch the Rob Roy on our old
friend, the Rhine.
It is a change to cross a quiet lake after being hurried on a rapid
stream like the Danube, and now it is another change to paddle from the
lake into a wide river like the Rhine, which speeds fast and steady
among lively scenes. The water is deep, and of a faint blue, but clear
enough to show what is below. The pebbly bottom seems to roll towards
you from underneath, and village churches appear to spin quietly round
on the banks, for the land and its things seem to move, not the water,
so glassy its surface steadily flowing.
Here are the fishers again, slowly paying out their fine-spun nets, and
there is a target-hut built on four piles in the river.
The target itself is a great cube of wood, say six feet on each side. It
is fired at from another hut perched also on post in the water, and a
"marker" safely placed behind the great block of wood turns it round on
a vertical pivot, and so patches up the bullet-hole, and indicates its
position to those who have fired.
The Rhine suddenly narrows soon after leaving the Boden See, or Lake
Constance as we call it, but the banks again open out till it is a mile
or two in breadth. Here and there are grassy islands, and you may
notice, by long stakes stuck on the shallows, which tremble as the water
presses them, that the channel for steamers is very roundabout, though
the canoe will skim over any part of it comfortably. Behind each islet
of tall reeds there is a fishing-boat held fast by two poles stuck in
the bottom of the river; or it is noiselessly moving to a more lucky
pool, sculled by the boatman, with his oar at only one side,--rather a
novel plan,--while he pays out the net with his other hand. Rudely-made
barges are afloat, and seem to turn round helplessly in the current of
the deeper parts, or hoist their great square sails in the dead
calm--perhaps for the appearance of the thing--a very picturesque
appearance, as the sail has two broad bands of dark blue cloth for its
centre stripes. But the pointed lateen sail of Geneva is certainly a
more graceful rig than the lug, especially when there are two masts, and
the white sails swell towards you, goosewinged, before a flowing breeze.
The river has probably a very uneven bottom in this part, for the water
sometimes rushes round in great whirlpools, and strange overturnings of
itself, as if it were boiling from below in exuberant volume with a
gushing upwards; and then again, it wheels about in a circle with a
sweep far around, before it settles to go onward.[XVI.]
[XVI.] These maelstroms seem at first to demand extra caution as
you approach, but they are harmless enough, for the water is deep, and
it only twists the boat round; and you need not mind this except when
the sail is up, but have a care _then_ that you are not taken aback. In
crossing one of these whirlpools at full speed it will be found needless
to try to counteract the sudden action on your bow by paddling against
it, for it is better to hold on as if there were no interference, and
presently the action in the reverse direction puts all quite straight.
On the borders of Switzerland the German and French tongues are both
generally known at the hotels, and by the people accustomed to do
business with foreigners travelling among them.
But in your course along a river these convenient waiters and polyglot
commissionaires are not found exactly in attendance at every village,
and it is, therefore, to the bystanders or casual loungers your
observations must be addressed.
Frequent intercourse with natives of strange countries, where there is
no common language between them and the tourist, will gradually teach
him a "sign language" which suits all people alike.
Thus, in any place, no matter what was their dialect, it was always easy
to induce one or two men to aid in carrying the canoe. The _formula_ for
this was something in the following style.
I first got the boat on shore, and a crowd of course soon collected,
while I arranged its interior, and sponged out the splashed water, and
fastened the cover down. Then, tightening my belt for a walk, I looked
round with a kind smile, and selecting a likely man, would address him
in English deliberately as follows--suiting each action to the word, for
I have always found that sign language is made more natural when you
speak your own tongue all the time you are acting:--"Well now, I think
as you have looked on enough and have seen all you want, it's about time
to go to an hotel, a _gasthaus_. Here! you--yes, _you_!--just take that
end of the boat up, so,--gently, '_langsam!_' '_langsam!_'--all right,
yes, under your arm, like this,--now march off to the best hotel,
_gasthaus_."
[Illustration: "Langsam."]
Then the procession naturally formed itself. The most humorous boys of
course took precedence, because of services or mischief willing to be
performed; and, meanwhile, they gratuitously danced about and under the
canoe like Fauns around Silenus. Women only came near and waited
modestly till the throng had passed. The seniors of the place kept on
the safer confines of the movement, where dignity of gait might comport
with close observation.
In a case of sign talking like the foregoing you can be helped by one
substantive and one adverb; and if you pronounce these clearly, and use
them correctly, while all the other expressions are evidently _your_
language and not theirs, they will understand it much better than if you
try signs in dumb show or say the whole in bad German, and so give rise
to all possible mistakes of your meaning.
But it is quite another matter when you have forgotten (or have never
acquired) the foreign word for the noun you wish to name, though, even
then, by well chosen signs, and among an intelligent people, a good deal
can be conveyed, as may be shown in the following cases.
Once I was riding among the Arabs along the Algerian coast, on my way
from Carthage, and my guide, a dense Kabyle, was evidently taking me
past a place I wished to visit, and which had been duly entered in the
list when he was engaged.
I could not make him understand this, for my limited Arabic had been
acquired under a different pronunciation in Syria; but one night, it
happened that a clever chief had me in a tent, or rather a hut, just
like the top of a gipsy cart. I explained to him by signs (and talking
English) that the muleteer was taking me past the place it was desired
to see. Then I tried to pronounce the name of that place, but was always
wrong, or he could not make it out; it was Maskutayn, or "bewitched
waters," a wonderful volcanic valley, full of boiling streams and little
volcanoes of salt.
At length, sitting in the moonlight, signs were tried even for this
difficult occasion. I put my chibouque (pipe) under the sand and took
water in my hand, and as he looked on intently--for the Arabs love this
speaking action--I put water on the fire in the pipe-bowl, and blew it
up through the sand, talking English all the time. This was done again,
and suddenly the black lustrous eyes of the Ishmaelite glistened
brighter. He slapped his forehead. He jumped up. You could almost be
sure he said "I know it now;" and then he roused the unfortunate
muleteer from his snorings to give him an energetic lecture, by means of
which we were directed next day straight to the very place I desired to
find.
In a few cases of this international talking it becomes necessary to
sketch pictures, which are even better than signs, but not among Arabs.
During a visit to the fair of Nijni Novgorod, in the middle of Russia, I
passed many hours in the "Chinese street" there, and found it was very
difficult to communicate with Ching Loo, and even signs were useless.
But they had some red wax about the tea-chests, and there was a white
wall beside us, so upon this I put the whole story in large pictures,
with an explanatory lecture in English all the time, which proceeding
attracted an audience of several scores of Chinamen and Kalmuks and
other outlandish people, and the particular group I meant to enlighten
seemed perfectly to understand all that was desired.
And so we suppose that if you can work your paddle well, and learn the
general sign language, and a little of the pencil tongue, you can go
very far in a canoe without being starved or homeless; while you are
sure to have a wide field in which to study the various degrees of
intelligence among those you meet.
To come back, however, from the Volga to the Rhine.
The current flows more and more gently as we enter the Zeller See, or
Unter See, a lake which would be called pretty if our taste has not been
sated for a while by having a snowy range for the background to the
views on Constance.
But the Lake of Constance sadly wants islands, and here in the Zeller
See are several, one of them being of great size. The Emperor of the
French had passed two days at his chateau on this lake, just before we
arrived. No doubt he would have waited a week had he known the Rob Roy
was coming.[XVII.]
[XVII.] His Majesty has not forgotten the canoe, as will be seen by
the following extract from the Paris intelligence in the "Globe" of
April 20 (His Majesty's birthday):--
"By an edict, dated April 6, 1866, issued this morning, the
Ministre d'Etat institutes a special committee for the
organisation of a special exhibition, at the Exposition
Universelle of 1867, of all objects connected with the arts and
industry attached to pleasure boats and river navigation. This
measure is thought to display the importance which amateur
navigation has assumed during the last few years--to display
the honour in which is held this _sport nouveau_, as it is
denominated in the report, and to be successful in abolishing
the old and absurd prejudices which have so long prevented its
development in France. The Emperor, whose fancy for imitating
everything English leads him to patronise with alacrity all
imitation of English sports in particular, is said to have
suggested the present exhibition after reading MacGregor's
'Cruise of the Rob Roy,' which developes many new ideas of the
purposes besides mere pleasure to which pleasure boats may be
applied, and would be glad to encourage a taste for the
exploration of solitary streams and lonely currents amongst the
youth of France."
However, as we were too late to breakfast with his Majesty, I pulled in
at the village of Steckborn, where an inn is built on the actual edge of
the water, a state of things most convenient for the aquatic tourist,
and which you find often along this part of the Rhine. In a case of this
sort you can tap at the door with the paddle, and order a repast before
you debark, so that it is boiling and fizzing, and the table is all
ready, while you put things to rights on board, and come leisurely
ashore, and then tie the boat to the window balcony, or, at any rate, in
some place where it can be seen all the time you breakfast or dine, and
rest, and read, and draw.
Experience proved that very few boys, even of the most mischievous
species, will meddle with a boat which is floating, but that very few
men, even of the most amiable order, will refrain from pulling it about
when the little craft is left on shore.
To have your boat not only moored afloat but in your sight too,--that is
perfection, and it is worth additional trouble to arrange this, because
then and for hours of the midday stoppage, you will be wholly at ease,
or at any rate, you will have one care the less, the weary resting
traveller will not then be anxious about his absent boat, as if it were
a valuable horse in a strange stable.
The landlord was much interested in the story of my voyage as depicted
in the sketch-book, so he brought a friend to see me who could speak
French, and who had himself constructed a boat of two tin tubes,[XVIII.] on
which a stage or frame is supported, with a seat and rowlocks, the
oddest looking thing in nautical existence. I persuaded him to put this
institution into the water, and we started for a cruise; the double-tube
metal boat, with its spider-like gear aloft, and the oak canoe, so low
and rakish, with its varnished cedar deck, and jaunty flag, now racing
side by side, each of them a rare sight, but the two together quite
unprecedented.
[XVIII.] Each of these was in shape like the cigar ship which I had
sailed past on the Thames, and which has since been launched.
The river here is like parts of the Clyde and the Kyles of Bute, with
French villages let in, and an Italian sky stretched overhead. We rowed
across to a village where a number of Jews live, for I wished to visit
their Synagogue; but, lo! this was the Grand Duchy of Baden land, and a
heavily-armed sentry found us invading the dominion, so he deployed and
formed square to force us to land somewhere else. The man was civil, but
his orders were unreasonable, so we merely embarked again and went over
to Switzerland, and ran our little fleet into a bramble bush, to hide it
while we mounted to an auberge on the hill for a sixpenny bottle of
wine.
The pretty Swiss lass in charge said she once knew an Englishman--but
"it was a pity they were all so proud." He had sent her a letter in
English, which I asked her to let me read for her. It began, "My dear
little girl, I love you;" and this did not sound so very proud for a
beginning. My boating friend promised to make her a tin _cafetiere_, and
so it may be divined that he was the tinman of the village, and a most
agreeable tinman too.
She came to see us on board, and her father arrived just in time to
witness a triangular parting, which must have puzzled him a good deal,
Amelia waving farewell to a "proud" Englishman and a nautical
whitesmith, who both took leave also of each other, the last sailing
away with huge square yards and coloured canvas, and the Rob Roy
drifting with the stream in the opposite direction.
Every day for weeks past had been as a picnic to me, but I prolonged
this one into night, the air was so balmy and the red sun setting was so
soon replaced by the white moon rising, and besides, the navigation here
had no dangers, and there were villages every few miles.
When I had enough of it, cruising here and there by moonlight, I drew up
to the town of Stein, but all was now lonely by the water-side. This is
to be expected when you arrive late; however, a slap or two on the water
with the paddle, and a loud verse of a song, Italian, Dutch, a pibroch,
any noise in fact, soon draws the idlers to you, and it is precisely the
idlers you want.
One of them readily helped me with the boat to an inn, where an
excellent landlady greeted the strange guest. From this moment all was
bustle there, and very much it was increased by a German guest, who
insisted on talking to me in English, which I am sure I did not
understand a bit better than the Germans who came to listen and look
on.