an inland voyage-第11章
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ned to understand and value him。 His was indeed a good influence in life while he was still among us； he had a fresh laugh； it did you good to see him； and however sad he may have been at heart； he always bore a bold and cheerful countenance； and took fortune's worst as it were the showers of spring。 But now his mother sits alone by the side of Fontainebleau woods； where he gathered mushrooms in his hardy and penurious youth。
Many of his pictures found their way across the Channel： besides those which were stolen； when a dastardly Yankee left him alone in London with two English pence； and perhaps twice as many words of English。 If any one who reads these lines should have a scene of sheep； in the manner of Jacques； with this fine creature's signature； let him tell himself that one of the kindest and bravest of men has lent a hand to decorate his lodging。 There may be better pictures in the National Gallery； but not a painter among the generations had a better heart。 Precious in the sight of the Lord of humanity； the Psalms tell us； is the death of his saints。 It had need to be precious； for it is very costly； when by the stroke； a mother is left desolate； and the peace…maker； and PEACE… LOOKER； of a whole society is laid in the ground with Caesar and the Twelve Apostles。
There is something lacking among the oaks of Fontainebleau； and when the dessert comes in at Barbizon； people look to the door for a figure that is gone。
The third of our companions at Origny was no less a person than the landlady's husband： not properly the landlord； since he worked himself in a factory during the day； and came to his own house at evening as a guest： a man worn to skin and bone by perpetual excitement； with baldish head； sharp features； and swift； shining eyes。 On Saturday； describing some paltry adventure at a duck… hunt； he broke a plate into a score of fragments。 Whenever he made a remark； he would look all round the table with his chin raised； and a spark of green light in either eye； seeking approval。 His wife appeared now and again in the doorway of the room； where she was superintending dinner； with a 'Henri； you forget yourself；' or a 'Henri； you can surely talk without making such a noise。' Indeed； that was what the honest fellow could not do。 On the most trifling matter his eyes kindled； his fist visited the table； and his voice rolled abroad in changeful thunder。 I never saw such a petard of a man； I think the devil was in him。 He had two favourite expressions： 'it is logical；' or illogical； as the case might be： and this other； thrown out with a certain bravado； as a man might unfurl a banner； at the beginning of many a long and sonorous story： 'I am a proletarian； you see。' Indeed； we saw it very well。 God forbid that ever I should find him handling a gun in Paris streets！ That will not be a good moment for the general public。
I thought his two phrases very much represented the good and evil of his class； and to some extent of his country。 It is a strong thing to say what one is； and not be ashamed of it； even although it be in doubtful taste to repeat the statement too often in one evening。 I should not admire it in a duke； of course； but as times go； the trait is honourable in a workman。 On the other hand； it is not at all a strong thing to put one's reliance upon logic； and our own logic particularly； for it is generally wrong。 We never know where we are to end； if once we begin following words or doctors。 There is an upright stock in a man's own heart； that is trustier than any syllogism； and the eyes； and the sympathies and appetites； know a thing or two that have never yet been stated in controversy。 Reasons are as plentiful as blackberries； and； like fisticuffs； they serve impartially with all sides。 Doctrines do not stand or fall by their proofs； and are only logical in so far as they are cleverly put。 An able controversialist no more than an able general demonstrates the justice of his cause。 But France is all gone wandering after one or two big words； it will take some time before they can be satisfied that they are no more than words； however big； and when once that is done； they will perhaps find logic less diverting。
The conversation opened with details of the day's shooting。 When all the sportsmen of a village shoot over the village territory PRO INDIVISO； it is plain that many questions of etiquette and priority must arise。
'Here now；' cried the landlord； brandishing a plate； 'here is a field of beet…root。 Well。 Here am I then。 I advance； do I not？ EH BIEN！ SACRISTI；' and the statement； waxing louder； rolls off into a reverberation of oaths； the speaker glaring about for sympathy； and everybody nodding his head to him in the name of peace。
The ruddy Northman told some tales of his own prowess in keeping order： notably one of a Marquis。
'Marquis；' I said； 'if you take another step I fire upon you。 You have committed a dirtiness； Marquis。'
Whereupon； it appeared； the Marquis touched his cap and withdrew。
The landlord applauded noisily。 'It was well done；' he said。 'He did all that he could。 He admitted he was wrong。' And then oath upon oath。 He was no marquis…lover either； but he had a sense of justice in him； this proletarian host of ours。
From the matter of hunting； the talk veered into a general comparison of Paris and the country。 The proletarian beat the table like a drum in praise of Paris。 'What is Paris？ Paris is the cream of France。 There are no Parisians： it is you and I and everybody who are Parisians。 A man has eighty chances per cent。 to get on in the world in Paris。' And he drew a vivid sketch of the workman in a den no bigger than a dog…hutch； making articles that were to go all over the world。 'EH BIEN； QUOI； C'EST MAGNIFIQUE； CA！' cried he。
The sad Northman interfered in praise of a peasant's life； he thought Paris bad for men and women； 'CENTRALISATION；' said he …
But the landlord was at his throat in a moment。 It was all logical； he showed him； and all magnificent。 'What a spectacle！ What a glance for an eye！' And the dishes reeled upon the table under a cannonade of blows。
Seeking to make peace； I threw in a word in praise of the liberty of opinion in France。 I could hardly have shot more amiss。 There was an instant silence； and a great wagging of significant heads。 They did not fancy the subject； it was plain； but they gave me to understand that the sad Northman was a martyr on account of his views。 'Ask him a bit；' said they。 'Just ask him。'
'Yes； sir；' said he in his quiet way； answering me； although I had not spoken； 'I am afraid there is less liberty of opinion in France than you may imagine。' And with that he dropped his eyes； and seemed to consider the subject at an end。
Our curiosity was mightily excited at this。 How； or why； or when； was this lymphatic bagman martyred？ We concluded at once it was on some religious question； and brushed up our memories of the Inquisition； which were principally drawn from Poe's horrid story； and the sermon in TRISTRAM SHANDY； I believe。
On the morrow we had an opportunity of going further into the question； for when we rose very early to avoid a sympathising deputation at our departure； we found the hero up before us。 He was breaking his fast on white wine and raw onions； in order to keep up the character of martyr； I conclude。 We had a long conversation； and made out what we wanted in spite of his reserve。 But here was a truly curious circumstance。 It seems possible for two Scotsmen and a Frenchman to discuss during a long half…hour； and each nationality have a different idea in view throughout。 It was not till the very end that we discovered his heresy had been political； or that he suspected our mistake。 The terms and spirit in which he spoke of his political beliefs were； in our eyes； suited to religious beliefs。 And VICE VERSA。
Nothing could be more characteristic of the two countries。 Politics are the religion of France； as Nanty Ewart would have said； 'A d…d bad religion'； while we； at home； keep most of our bitterness for little differences about a hymn…book； or a Hebrew word which perhaps neither of the parties can translate。 And perhaps the misconception is typical of many others that may never be cleared up： not only between people of different race； but between those of different sex。
As for our friend's martyrdom； he was a Communist； or perhaps only a Communard； which is a very different thing； and had lost one or more situations in consequence。 I think he had also been rejected in marriage； but perhaps he had a sentimental way of considering business which deceived me。 He was a mild； gentle creature； anyway； and I hope he has got a better situation； and married a more suitable wife since then。
DOWN THE OISE
TO MOY
CARNIVAL notoriously cheated us at first。 Finding us easy in our ways； he regretted having let us off so cheaply； and taking me aside； told me a cock…and…bull story with the moral of another five francs for the narrator。 The thing was palpably absurd； but I paid up； and at once dropped all friendliness of manner； and kept him in his place as an inferior with freezing British dignity。 He saw in a moment that he had gone too far； and killed a willing horse； his face fell； I am sure he would have refunded if he could only have thought of a decent pretext。 He wished me to drink with him； but I would none of his drinks。 He grew pathetically tender in his professions； but I walked beside him in silence or answered him in stately courtesies； and when we got to the landing…place； passed the word in English slang to the CIGARETTE。
In spite of the false scent we had thrown out the day before； there must have been fifty people about the bridge。 We were as pleasant as we could be with all but Carnival。 We said good…bye； shaking hands with the old gentleman who knew the river and the young gentleman who had a smattering of English； but never a word for Carnival。 Poor Carnival！ here was a humiliation。 He who had been so much identified with the canoes； who had given orders in our name； who had shown off the boats and even the boatmen like a private exhibition of his own； to be now so publicly shamed by the lions of his caravan！ I never saw anybody look more crestfallen than he。 He hung in the background； coming timidly forward ever and again as he thought he saw some symptom of a relenting humour； and falling hurriedly back when he encountered a cold stare。 Let us hope it will be a lesson to him。
I would not have mentioned Carnival's peccadillo had not the thing been so uncommon in France。 This； for instance； was the only case of dishonesty or even sharp practice in our whole voyage。 We talk very much about our honesty in England。 It is a good rule to be on your guard wherever you hear great professions about a very little piece of virtue。 If the English could only hear how they are spoken of abroad； they might confine themselves for a while to remedying the fact； and perhaps even when that was done； give us fewer of their airs。
The young
