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UNIVERSITY OF CALIFORNIA
AT LOS ANGELES

1SKIVERSITY of CMiFUJiigli

LOS ANGELES

* TTJT5 A Tt V

A SUMMER VOYAGE

ON THE RIVER SAONE.

Philip Gilbert Hamerton

author of " a painter's camp." " round my house."'
"the unknown river," etc., etc.

With a hundred and forty-eight Illustrations by JOSEPH PENNELL
and the AUTHOR, and four Maps.

Gray

Jrom the west

* ■» * > * * > j j j j j ' j > , t

Boston^,: :^y^J\\ t u 9 t\^

ROBERTS BROTHERS

1889

• ■ > ' ;

* » »•« | ' •

• . • • •

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. • • .

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• . •

• * • . *

t • • • . •

• « • •

• » «

JlnibcrsitD }3rrss:
John Wilson and Son, Camb^idgl

♦

TO THE MEMORY OF

FRANgOIS FREDERIC GINDRIEZ,

FORMERLY
PREFECT OF THE DEPARTMENT OF THE DOUBS,

AND

DEPUTY FOR SAONE-ET-LOIRE,

ONE OF THE KINDEST, MOST UPRIGHT, AND MOST

DISINTERESTED OF MEN.

THIS DESCRIPTION OF A RIVER THAT HE FIRST MADE KNOWN

TO THE AUTHOR,

$s affwttonaielj) Jfnscrito,

BY HIS FRIEND AND SON-IN-LAW.

LIST OF MAPS.

PAGE

i. The Saone, from the Source to the Confluence with the Rhone (in Preface)

To face page viii.

2. The Saone, from the Source to the Confluence with the Ognon. To face page 42

3. The Saone, from the Confluence with the Ognon, to the Confluence with

the Seille To face page 140

4. The Saone, from the Confluence with the Seille, to the Confluence with

the Rhone To face page 262

PREFACE.

This account of a voyage on the Sadne includes the
whole of that river which is navigable, and the navigable
Saone has been increased in length of late years by
the engineering works that now make it accessible for
sixty miles above the beautiful little town of Gray.

A clear understanding of the fluvial character of the
Saone may be gained by dividing it into three parts.

The first part is from its source at Viomenil in the
Vosges to the junction with the river Coney at Corre.
This is the young Saone, and it is not navigable unless
possibly in an interrupted manner for canoes.

From the junction with the Coney to that with the
Doubs at Verdun we have the Upper Saone, which is
navigable naturally for very considerable distances, and
yet, as a whole, only open in consequence of great
engineering works. It was, however, open from
Auxonne downwards in the times of the Crusades.

The addition of the waters of the Doubs at Verdun
greatly increases the importance of the Saone, which is
navigable from Verdun to Lyons for small sailing yachts.
Here the river is broad and has a current, the extreme

Preface.

slowness of which was noticed long ago by Cassar.
What little speed it had in ancient days has been still
further diminished by the five weirs between Verdun and
Lyons, which convert the river into a series of very
long ponds, except when the sluices are opened and
the current (lows naturally, according to the quantity
of water.

I rom the Coney to the Doubs the Saone is a good
river for oarsmen, but the locks are too numerous for
their taste. From the mouth of the Doubs to Neuville,
above Lyons, it is the best river to sail upon in Europe,
and probably in the world. This quality is not owing
simpl) i" the extreme slowness of the current, but also
to a general sufficiency of depth, and to the good ex-
posure of the surface of the water to the action of
different winds.

The scenery of the navigable Sa6ne is never so hilly
anywhere as it is between Trevoux and Lyons, but in
the upper river the ground is pleasantly diversified by
the kind of hill that the French call collincs, and there
are many beautiful woods. From Verdun to Ormer, a
village a few miles above Tournus, the scenery is almost
Dutch in its flatness, but not without a strong character
and a peculiar beauty of its own. Afterwards it remains

nerally open, with fine distances, till the distances

Income more mountainous as we travel south', and finally

the hills approach the borders of the river just below

rrevoux, which is rather more than fourteen miles above

Lyons.

Section i

BovuBeVeLUe®^

from% ^ource

QtleS

VlE/^E.

5 £. of Grce. nuyick.

Preface. ix

The landscape of the Saone is alternately beautiful or
dull (the dull parts giving the voyager a renewed
appetite for the beauty that is sure to follow), but it is
seldom grand, except with the kind of grandeur that
may be due to vastness of space. It has more the
character of the sea than that of a lake district.

The towns and villages by which the Sadne passes are
rich in interest for the artist, and many of them also for
the archaeologist, but the reader ought to be warned that
sketching is scarcely tolerated. The arrest of the author
and of the artist who accompanied him was believed in
England to have been a mistake resulting from officious
zeal in combination with ridiculous ignorance ; but, in fact,
the gendarmes acted according to their instructions, and
the release of the sketchers was due entirely to the
authority of a distinguished General, an artillery officer,
who commanded the military district of Dijon. Even
after this incident efficient protection was obtained with
the greatest difficulty.

With regard to the kind of travelling adopted, the
author preferred the river itself, as being the most
beautiful of roads. For the voyage above Chalon he
used a long canal-boat, temporarily converted into a house-
boat by the erection of a camp inside it, and for the
Lower Saone he employed a sailing-boat well adapted
to those waters. The reason for this difference of
navigation was that on the northern river the voyagers
had often to pass the night at a great distance from
any tolerable inn, whilst south of Chalon the inns are

x Preface.

sufficiently frequent to make the necessity for sleeping on
hoard a boat no more than an occasional little hardship.
Besides this the Lower Sadne is so favourable to sailing
that the temptation was not to be resisted, and a lover of
aquatic amusements finds his patience rather too severely
tested by a month on a canal-boat.

The form of narrative adopted is that of familiar
letters, addressed to the author's friend and publisher,
Mr. Richmond Seeley. His practice was to write these
letters as far as possible on board the boat, and to take
ample notes for those which the work of the voyage
itself did not leave him time to write at the moment.
The letters were really addressed to Mr. Seeley in the
first place, and written in a more especial sense for him,
though it would be a false pretence to say that the writer
had not, at the same time, an eye to a more numerous
public. It was the author's own idea that letters of an
informal kind, addressed to one who had taken from the
first a most friendly interest in the expedition, would
naturally permit the introduction of many not insignificant
details that must have been eliminated from a more
formal narrative. \\ hat seems most desirable is to make
the reader feel himself one of the party, and this object
may be attained more completely by letters conveying
accurately the impressions received from day to day than
by a colder resume' written out long afterwards. For the

me reason the earlier projects and impressions are
retained in their own place even when later ones
have subsequently corrected or superseded them.

Preface. xi

With regard to the freshness of the material, it is
believed that no Englishman or American ever before
made the voyage of the navigable Saone. Many, no
doubt, have descended in the public steamer from Chalon
to Lyons, but to ascend the river from Chalon to Corre
(a much longer distance) is to pass through regions in
which there is no accommodation for tourists. In fact,
the voyage would have been impossible without an
arrangement for living entirely on board the boat. In
this case the expedition was planned so as to give both
author and artist every convenience for their work. The
author had his private study at hand in all places and in
all weathers, with books for reference and every con-
venience for writing ; the artist worked from nature
with the knowledge that he was never more than a
mile from his lodging, his luggage, and his dinner, in
fact, he had not to give a thought to any material con-
sideration. Every member of the expedition had his
appointed duties, which were performed with a very near
approach to the strictest regularity, and a degree of
order was maintained that would have done credit to a
much more fashionable vessel. In all attempts at in-
dependent travel there are sure to be some causes of
vexation. Those which occurred in this voyage are told
quite frankly in the following pages.

LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS.

Of the illustrations in the following list a hundred and two are original pen-
drawings by Mr. Pennell, nineteen are original pen-drawings by Mr. Hamerton,
twenty-four are drawings in ink by Mr. Pennell from originals in lead-pencil by
Mr. Hamerton, and three are done in ink by Mr. Hamerton from originals in aqua-
tint, etching, and pencil by M. Jules Chevrier and Mr. J. P. Pettitt. Auxonne and
Lyons, being fortified towns, are not illustrated.

By J. Pennell.

PAGE

Gray from the West Title Page.

The Boussemroum Moored 1 1

Above Chalon 13

The Galley Stove 17

A River Train 20

A Sketch 21

The Tents from La Cour Pennell To face page 22

St. Jean de Losne 27

Gray, the Bridge and Weir 30

The Lock at Corre 40

The Boussemroum at Corre To face page 44

The Church at Corre 45

The Land Gipsies at Corre 46

Corre, the Main Street To face page 50

Franki and Zoulou 52

Ormoy in the distance 53

Ormoy from the Canal 59

Ormoy, the Public Fountain 6c

A House in Ormoy 61

xiv List of Illustrations.

PAGE

Richecourt from Ormoy • . • 62

A I untrj II..:- Deal Ran velle 63

\ Street .it Cendrecourt 65

Irecourt from the Fields 66

\ Barn at Cendrecourt 67

1 nearjussey 7 2

\ ' Inrve of the Upper Saone 75

checourt 76

iflandey, the Village 78

iflandey, the Towing Path 79

•soi Saone 81

tie, the Little Bridge 82

Port-sur-Sa6ne, the Channel between the Islands 84

The Boussemroum in the Canal at Chemilly 85

The Bri d i.-millv 87

The River Dnrgeon at Chemilly 88

11 the Terrace, Chemilly 90

Scey and Chemilly 92

The Boussemroum in the Basin at Scey To face page 92

\ House in Scey To face page 94

Tunnel below Scey 07

•iches— the Cross IOO

A House at Ovanches ioi

Rupt, the Church To face page 102

Rupt, the Round Tower IC m

S ie near Ray _ ioy

the Ray Canal I0 g

Bv P. C. Hamerton.
' 109

By J. Pennell.

The River I'.ank near Ray

On the Canal near Savoyeux To face page 116

List of Illustrations. xv

PAGE

Ferry at Prantigny 119

Gray from the North East 124

Gray from the North To face page 124

Old Shop in Gray 125

Courtyard at Gray 126

A Little Bridge at Gray 129

Near Gray I3 1

Mantoche x 3 2

In the Woodland 138

Pontailler, from the Second Bridge 140

Pontailler, on the Old Saone 14 2

Old House at Pontailler 147

A Sketch • 149

Coming down behind Steamer 154

Our Quarterdeck 159

Sunset on the Broad Saone 161

A Sketch 164

The Church at St. Jean de Losne 166

The Main Street at St. Jean de Losne To face page 168

Steam Tug at St. Jean de Losne To face page 170

On board a Peniche • *75

A House Boat J 77

A Sketch 178

A Sketch 179

Ecuelles 179

A Sketch, Evening 180

Verdun, the Ferry from the Island 183

Verdun, from the Island in the Doubs 184

Verdun, the Foot-bridge To face page 184

A Corner in Verdun J 86

The Bridge at Verdun l8 9

A Sketch 194

A Sketch 195

A Haystack J 9^

Gergy 197

XVI

List of Illustrations.

l'AGE

A Village in the Plain I97

AJleriot l "

By r. G. I Iamerton.

Zoulou's Farewell 2 ° 2

Chalon, the Bridge from the North 2 °7

By P. G. Hamerton after J. Chevkier. 1

Chalon, the Bridge, a.d. 1600 212

By P. <;. Hamerton.

Place du Chatelet, Chalon 213

Chalon, the Deanery Tower 215

By P. <;. Hamerton after J. Chevrier.

Rue St. Vincent, Chalon 216

By P. G. Hamerton.

Chalon, Place de I'Hdtel de Ville, flooded To face page 216

Chalon, fro n the Little Creusot 220

Chalon, the Hospital 222

The Arar, Deck View 230

By J. Pennell.

Port d'Ouroux, North End 2 ,

Port d'Ouroux, South End 2 ^j.

M. Chevrier's etching, of which the drawing is a copy, was itself done from a
picture contemporary with the state of the bridge which it represents.

List of Illustrations. xvii

By P. G. Hamerton.

PAGE

The Arar under sail 237

By J. Pennell.

Tournus, the Bridge 249

On the Quay at Tournus 250

Ruelle at Tournus 251

The Market-place at Tournus 252

The Towers of Tournus To face page 256

Tournus, the Big Parasol 260

A Sketch 261

Villars 262

A Landing-stage 264

By P. G. Hamerton.
The Arar, with Tents 266

By J. Pennell after P. G. Hamerton.

Island of Fleurville from the Inn . 271

Macon, from St. Laurent 273

By P. G. Hamerton.
Macon, the Hotel du Sauvage 275

By J. Pennell.
The Bridge at Macon 281

Will

List of Illustrations.

By P. G. Hamerton.

PAGE

>n, St. Laurent

M&con, Towers of St. Vincent and Prefecture 28 3

BY |. 1' IN NELL AFTER P. G. HAMERTON.

Micon from the Railway Bridge 28 7

The Cliffs of Solutre" 288

A I louse at Portd'Arciat " •.•••• 2 9 l

By J. Pennell.
A Sketch 2 93

By J. Pennell after P. G. Hamerton.

The Beaujolais Hills from Thoissey 295

Where we slept at Port de Thoissey 297

\ t Thoissey 2 9 8

M Qtmerle from Port de Belleville 3 C2

Montmerle from the South 3°4

By P. G. Hamerton.

iregard from the South 308

Beauregard from the West 309

The Arar, with a fair wind 310

By J. Pennell after P. G. Hamerton.

Riottier from the North 311

Riottier from the South 312

Trt-voux from the North 313

List of Illustrations. xix

PAGE

The Quay at Trevoux To face page 314

Trevoux. Rue du Port 316

Trevoux, the Bridge 3rS

By J. Pennell after P. G. Hamerton.

St. Germain au Mont d'Or 322

By P. G. Hamerton.

Petite Amie in a Light Breeze 324

Petite Amie in a Gust 327

By J. Pennell after P. G. Hamerton.

In the Basin above Neuville 328

Cliff of Quarry at Couzon 329

Couzon Church and Hills 330

He Barbe, North End 333

He Barbe, from the East .... To face page 336

St. Rambert, ile Barbe to the Right To face page 338

By P. G. Hamerton after J. P. Pettitt*

Confluence of Saone and Rhone 343

By J. Pennell after P. G. Hamerton.

The Mont d'Or from fie Bene 346

THE SAONE

LETTER I.

AUTUN, April 20//1, 1886.

My projected voyage on the Sadne presents many practical
difficulties. I am familiar with the Lower Saone from many
different sailing voyages, and therefore know the peculiarities of
the river travel that it affords, but the case of the Upper Saone
is entirely different. It would evidently be a great error to
think of sailing there, except, perhaps, for an occasional reach of
river with little current, well-exposed water, and a wind that
happened to be agreeable, so I propose to hire a steam-launch
for the Upper Saone, and only take the Avar (my sailing-boat)
from Chalon down to Lyons. I have a particular steamer in
view, a new boat that has attained a high speed and excelled
good rivals in the last Chalon regatta. This seems the most
rational plan, as with a steamer I can run up the 1 50 miles
from Chalon rapidly and come down again at leisure making
sketches. The steamer in question has a saloon that will hold
two comfortable berths, a kitchen, and a rather commodious
forecastle for the men. By setting up a small tent on the roof

The Saone.

at night an additional berth might be gained, so there would be
.mmodation for three gentlemen and the sailors. These last
would consist of the engineer, the pilot (who is quite indispens-
able), and a cook. The gentlemen would be an artist (I should
not have time to illustrate the river adequately myself), a
military friend, and your correspondent. If I were lucky in
the choice of an artist and of the crew the expedition would
be' pleasant and probably successful. The military friend that
I have in view is to be thoroughly relied upon as a travelling
companion, and I have but one anxiety about him, which
is, that possibly some engagement may prevent him from
joining me.

LETTER II.

(An Extract.) Autun, Apm 26tn.

I have applied for the steamer, but as the owner is also the

builder he declines to let because he is anxious to sell, and

after an excursion of this kind the boat might be considered

no longer perfectly new. An application elsewhere for another

steamer has met with exactly the same response. The difficulty

about hiring appears to be practically insurmountable. There

are a certain number of private steam-yachts on the river, but

their owners are rich men who would not be tempted to deprive

themselves of their vessels during the summer season, and

builders only want to sell. I have not the least desire to

encumber myself permanently with a steam-yacht, even if I

could afford the luxury. The oily smells, the smoke, and the

vibration, are to my taste insuperable objections in a machine

A Summer Voyage.

intended for pleasure. There is one sailing-yacht on the river
with fair cabin accommodation, but she is only useful on the
tranquil reaches of the Lower Saone. Just at present I hardly
see what is to be done.

LETTER III.

'Extract.) AUTUN, May 1st.

All hopes of a steamer are finally at an end, and I am
devising another plan. My sailing-boat, the Arar, might be
treated as a canal-boat on the Upper Saone, and drawn by
a horse on the towing-path. I have a deck-tent to sleep under
at night, and when a rain-storm comes on. This, of course,
we should take, and though the accommodation is narrow for
three it is just sufficient. The present plan would be to sleep
in the inns when they were available, and in the boat tent
when an inn happened to be too far from the river. The
scheme is feasible, though I foresee difficulties, nevertheless it
is the only plan that suggests itself at present. The greatest
objection is the narrowness of the accommodation for three
persons on board my boat. This is endurable in a short
excursion, but would be felt as a serious inconvenience in a
voyage extending over several weeks.

Ilic Sadne.

LETTER IV.

itract) Autun, May %th.

I have found a man ;md horse, and asked a friend at Chalon
to engage them definitively, so the manner of the voyage is quite
settled. The man's charge is reasonable, and he is a perfectly
respectable character, well-known to some friends of mine. We
shall work up the river as quickly as possible.

LETTER V.

Autun, May loth.

My friend at Chalon, just before engaging the man and
horse, happened to meet with a contractor for water transport
and mentioned my scheme to him. The contractor imme-
diately said, "The scheme looks attractive, but it will not work.
The defect of it is, that the man with the horse will be separated
from the boat every evening, when he will have to seek for a
lodging for himself and his beast. He will therefore always
have a good excuse, towards evening, for leaving everything
and riding off in search of a village. The gentlemen will either
be left with their boat and its small accommodation, having- to
dine as they can, or else they, too, will have to leave the boat
and all it contains without any one to guard it, whilst they seek
for some village inn. They may possibly find the village, but
it is not certain that they will always find an inn fit to receive
them, and they may have to come back to their boat late, after
seeking in vain. The practical inconveniences of this might,

A Summer Voyage.

at times, be rather serious — meals missed, and the narrow-
lodging on the boat after all, besides the frequent and un-
avoidable absences of the man just at a time when he would
be particularly useful. Ce serait un cats deforce majeure.

" Now what I should suggest," the contractor went on to say,
"is that Mr. Hamerton should rent a berrichon 1 and take its
owner and a pilot for his crew. Every berrichon has a donkey
on board in its own stable, which is a regular part of the boat,
and although at first sight it may appear that the donkey would
be slow, the fact is that the horse would only go at a walking
pace, and the difference would not be so great as it might
appear. The men, too, could tow the boat at times if the
donkey were tired, and a considerable distance might be quietly
got over each day. Then, in descending the Saone, and
especially the Upper Saone, the current would be some
advantage. The men would always sleep on the berrichon,
and could be found when wanted at all hours of the day
and night."

Another suggestion has grown out of this, which is, that I
should take a coursi. This kind of boat has much more beam
than a berrichon, and is not so long. It has the great advantage
of possessing two good permanent rooms, and there is stabling
for a pair of horses on board. The coursi would cost me more,
but the temptation of the permanent rooms is considerable.
They look rough from the outside, but might be made
sufficiently comfortable within.

Here is a practicable idea ! The notion of the floating

1 An extremely long and narrow canal boat, built expressly for the canals in the
Berri country, where the locks used to be very narrow. Since the widening of the
locks it is not unlikely that this curious type of boat may become extinct.

The Sadne.

habitation on the coursi has suggested a combination of camp
and berrichon. 1 have preserved as relics of my camp life in
tland three of my best tents. Two of these are the regular
Edgington porch tent in good condition, the third is a studio
tent that served me in Scotland for painting from nature at a
distance fn.m my hut. I should have nothing to do but set up
tin's camp on the berrichon, and it might be pitched far more
perfectly than a cam]) that has to be removed every day.

A berrichon is such a very long boat— eighty feet, at least—
that the camp could be set up with ease, and there would be
spaces between the tents, an immense convenience. The
carrying power of a berrichon being about eighty tons, one
is free to take luggage without limit.

LETTER VI.

Autun, May 15M.

Too busv to go to the Saone to select a berrichon myself,
I have intrusted the commission to a friend. He writes that he
has considerable difficult}- in finding what I want, as I do not
desire to have women and children on board, and almost all these
boats arc family residences. He tranquilly inquires if I have
any objection to a bigamist, as there is a very suitable berrichon
with a man and two wives. This I suspect to be an invention
ol his own ; probably the man's wife has her sister with her or
some other relation, as I know that whole families live together
on the water. My objection to children is, that they would
generally be in the way and make noise ; as for the sex that
we all adore, I should like to know the woman personally

A Summer Voyage.

before intrusting my peace to her for many weeks. She
might possibly be a talker, or even a scold, she might be dirty
and slovenly in her habits, all which would spoil the pleasure
of my trip completely, and there would be no remedy against
a woman who was established in her own house, under the
protection of her own husband.

In any case I shall require what is called, on the Saone, a
" marinier," in addition to the owner of the boat. I may-
explain here that a " marinier " is a professional river boatman,
whereas the men on the berrichons are often simply canal
boatmen belonging to central France, and unaccustomed to
the great rivers. A "marinier" of the first rank would
probably be classed as a pilot and expect high wages, but it
may be necessary to take a pilot as I know nothing about the
Upper Saone. The river below Chalon is familiar to me in
detail, and I could take a small sailing-yacht over it without
help, but I feel no desire to accept the management of an
eighty-ton canal-boat even there. The art of managing those
long heavy boats is peculiar, and a profession of itself. The
navigation of such a thing would not be a pleasure to me. I
look upon it simply as a convenience for having the camp
afloat.

LETTER VII.

Autun, May 20th.

My friend has engaged a berrichon on the recommendation
of the contractor. The owner is described as un brave
homme, which in French, as you know, means a trustworthy
straightforward sort of fellow.

T/ir SaSnc,

What .1 good thing it is to be very strict and precise about
measurements ! The exact interior measure of the berrichon
is seven feet two and a half inches, and it is impossible to
squeeze my studio tent, by any artifice, into that dimension
«>n account of its pole framework. With the pyramidal tents
the case is different. They can be set up with a narrower base
ami a steeper inclination of roof. 1 have decided at once
to use the side walls only of the studio tent, and have light
wooden ends made, so that it will be a combination of hut and
tent, which is more convenient than either and combines the
merits ol both. I can have a window in one end and a door
in the other, with ventilating doors in the two gables. The
length of the hut is determined by that of the canvas walls,
a little over twelve feet. Such is the advantage of knowing
exactly what you want in all its details that the mechanical
drawing for this hut, complete to scale, occupied me only an
hour. This comes of old experience in hutting. It was simply
neces>ary to remember what was good in my Scotch hut and
retain it, whilst remembering at the same time what was
defective, to improve it. 1

1 In practice this hut turned out to be exactly what I desired. Its dimensions were

a little over twelve feet by six feet six. The height to the top of the walls was seven

feet six. and to the top of the gable ten feet nine inches. The roof was simply com-

1 of a couple of rick-cloths, one upon the other. These dimensions gave space

and air. Small and low huts are unendurable in hot weather.

A Summer Voyage.

LETTER VIII.

Chalon-sur-Saone, May list.

At last I have seen the berrichon. It was lying in the canal
(the Canal du Centre), just opposite the church of St. Come. As
I was looking at the boat a little old man came along the canal
bank with a basket on his arm, saluted me, and said that he was
the owner of the boat and at my service. I was pleased with
his appearance. He wore a straw hat, a blue summer coat, and a
pair of nankeen trousers, all perfectly clean. His eyes were as
blue as his coat, but much paler. We immediately went on
board the odd-looking craft that is to be my home for several
weeks. My first anxiety was about the state of its floor. A
berrichon in good condition has a floor in thick boards of excellent
oak, level from end to end, but a berrichon in bad condition is
likely to have a very defective floor. Had this boat been out of
repair I should have been compelled to have a new floor for each
of the tents, but it luckily happens that this is excellent and
nearly new. The bottom of the boat is quite flat, the sides are
perpendicular walls of stout oak, breast high. The interior
would be a long open corridor were it not divided at intervals
by cross-beams, and in the middle of its length by the donkey's
house, which crosses from bulwark to bulwark, as the Bridge of
Sighs at Venice crosses its narrow canal. The donkey's house
is a complete interruption internally, and the most awkward
thing in the boat, and near it is a place for ha)-. At the stern is a
poop cabin with two berths for the men, and at the opposite end

The Sadne

ol the boat there is a small but very necessary forecastle deck, with
.i sort of cramped cabin under it that is used as a cellar.

The boat is simply blackened with coal-tar (perfectly clean
and dry , but the prow is sparingly adorned with white and red
paint, and there is some attempt at decoration at the stern.
There, by diligent investigation close at hand, or with a glass at
a little distance, the name of the vessel may be made out. I
print it more plainly here: —

BOUSSEMROUM.

(pronounced Boossemmrroomm. )

It was a most unpractical notion, in such a country as
France where nobody can learn a strange name, to give this
extraordinary one to a canal boat, but the owner tells me
that he took it from a place in Algeria, where there is a sacred
mosque, and which is connected with his own experience as a
soldier.

Vernet, the owner of the Boussemroum, showed me the inside
of his private cabin, which is clean and orderly. His cooking
apparatus is a stove with the conveniences of a small kitchen
range, which he keeps outside in the galley. An inspection of
his few and simple cooking utensils leads me to hope that his
service- may be occasionally acceptable when we are at a dis-
tance from an inn.

The contrast between the Patron (the owner of a boat is
called lefatronhere) and the Pilot is the most striking that could
be imagined. If the Patron is a small man, even for France, the
Pilot would be considered a big and powerful man in England,

anywhere. I Ie is reputed to be one of the best pilots on the
Sa6ne. Besides this he is a splendid swimmer, has rescued no

A Slimmer Voyage.

less than fourteen people from drowning, and has received four
medals for his bravery. He always wears a little bit of riband
belonging to one of these medals. I like his manners, which are
plain and straightforward, without either rudeness or any excess
of deference. His swimming powers may perhaps be useful, as
the patron cannot swim a stroke.

Decidedly there is an African character about the Bousscm-
roum ! the donkey is called " Zoulou." He is a handsome and
lively beast of a dark- brown colour, with fine intelligent eyes.

The ' ! Boussemroum
moored.

The Patron is proud of Zoulou, and bought him for three hundred
francs.

The mention of this great sum of money reminds me that
perhaps you may be curious to know how much the Boussem-
roum is to cost me. Answer, ten francs a day for boat, Patron,

and donkey, and six francs a day for the Pilot. The Patron is
to keep himself and Zoulou, the Pilot is to provide his own food
and drink.

I 2

The SaSne.

This docs not seem expensive, but to change a bcrrichon into
omfortable house-boat would have been a costly operation if
I had not already possessed the camp, and even as it is there has
been an appreciable outlay in adapting the camp to its present
employment. There are the two new ends to the hut, with a
skeleton to carry the canvas walls and roof. In the tents the
poles would have been in the way, so I have replaced them by
chevrons, 1 three to each tent, besides which there are washboards
round the bottom of the tents to keep them well pitched, as the
space is too narrow for correct pitching. There will also be a
good deal of joiner's work in the shape of a small quarter-deck,
some companion-ladders, shelves, and other trifles that may,
however, be useful after the present voyage.

The charge for one man and horse to tow my own sailing-
boat was twelve francs a day, if I took him for a month, so
I have now only four francs a day in excess of that and I
get the boat into the bargain. The expense of setting up the
camp divided by the number of days out and added to this
sum of four francs a day will give the exact daily cost of the
boat considered as lodgings for three gentlemen. But, in
addition to the convenience of lodging on board, I shall have
two servants always with me and always at my service, instead
of one man frequently leaving me to go in search of bed and
.stable. On the whole, therefore, it seems up to the present time
as if I had not made a foolish bargain about the berrichon. 2

1 Pieces of wood in pairs, opening like pairs of compasses.

* These little practical and economical details arc left in their place from a belief
that they may possibly be interesting, or even useful, to readers who have themselves a
turn for independent travel. From the literary point of view they are fully authorised
foe, and other examples.

A Summer Voyage.

LETTER IX.

Raconnay, June 1st, Evening.

We have already done some miles on the river, and the
boat is at rest opposite a little village called Raconnay, below
Verdun.

As we shall have to pass all these places in coming down,
I do not wish to trouble you with any descriptions of the

Above Chalon.

scenery or the localities during the ascending voyage. I shall
confine myself for the present quite strictly to the circumstances
and events (if any) of the voyage itself.

Yesterday, after writing my letter, I had the berrichon taken
up to a basin in the Canal du Centre, above a lock, and there
she was fastened to the shore at a pleasant spot, where a green
lawny bank goes down to the water, and there is a path in the

14 The Sadne.

iss under shady trees. There the dray brought all the camp
apparatus from the- railway station, which is very near, and
a clever joiner set up the woodwork of the saloon. All the
rest of the luggage was put on board in a confused way, but
with some regard to future convenience.

I then went to inquire at different offices about steam-tugs
ascending the river, and learned that a tug was to start for
Gray this morning, early, and that there would be no other
for four days. One could not hesitate about the proper course
to pursue. Even-thing was on board, though in confusion.
It was plain, therefore, that we must start as we were, and
try to get our habitations in order whilst the boat was in
motion.

The berrichon had to be brought down from the canal to
the river. The canal bridges at Chalon are remarkably low.
The Pilot had the foresight to go and measure the height
of the lowest above the water exactly with a piece of string.
He found that it gave about three inches clear above the
gable of the saloon. This bit of carefulness promises well ;
no really careless man would have taken such a precaution
without orders.

In the canal the Pilot was ostentatiously submissive, asking
the Patron for his orders and obeying them with such phrases
as this, " It is your business to command, mine to obey." The
length of the voyage on the canal is nine hundred English
yards. We had no sooner got through the last bridge, and
out into the river, than the Pilot gave an order in a stentorian
voice, and as the Patron seemed rather taken aback the new com-
mander curtly explained the state of affairs, " On the canal you
arc master, on the river I am master. You have no authority

■A Sit miner Voyage. 15

on the river." It is easy to be submissive during some hundreds
of yards when you are to be master for hundreds of miles !

According to the laws of inland navigation the Pilot is
quite right. He is a registered Saone pilot and commands
the working of the ship. It remains to be seen how the old
Patron, who has never been on the river before, will submit
to a master on his own boat which he has commanded ever
since she was launched, now eleven years ago.

Considering that we were obliged to start in a hurry on
account of the tug, it was fortunate that my friend and guest,
Captain Kornprobst, had joined me already at Chalon instead
of coming to join me three days later, when I expected to leave
that place. I knew that he would be of great use during
the preparations, and had begged him to meet me early yester-
day morning on that account. This he did with his usual
punctuality, that is, to the minute.

The Captain began his intercourse with our family by being
the friend of my eldest son, who had, and still preserves, the
warmest affection for him, notwithstanding the disparity of
their ages, and who was very anxious that I should make his
acquaintance. He has now for some years been a friend of
my own, and I owe great thanks to my boy for his discernment.
The Captain has all the qualities that are most rare and most
valuable in a travelling companion on an expedition such as
this. To begin with, I never in my life knew any human being
who excelled him in equality of good humour. In the most
vexatious circumstances he remains perfectly cool, perfectly
serene, perfectly well able to see how to make the best of
the situation thus freshly created for him, and, having rapidly
decided what to do, he is as cheerful as before, with a mind

K, The Saone.

completely disengaged and ready to pay attention to any other
matter. UN long military experience makes him look upon
the small hardships of my river expeditions as nothing more
than a variety of amusement. He has a most robust consti-
tution, and has enjoyed finer health, on the whole, than any
man I ever knew intimately enough to be acquainted with the
detail- of his life ; and this in spite of the long hardships of the
Crimean war, and also of the terrible winter in the Franco-
German war, and in spite of a wound in that war which
caused long and severe suffering. The ball then received
has never been extracted, but it now gives no more than
occasional trouble. The Captain tells me that the most obvious
result of his wound was to age him considerably. His hair
and beard became rapidly grey, and are now almost white.
He maintains his health by regular exercise, walking in ordinary
times twelve or thirteen miles a day, as a rule, and as much
more as any pedestrian companion may desire. He has often
made excursions with my eldest son, who is a good walker,
and has youth on his side.

The Captain is an ingenious amateur workman in various
ways. He can do joiner's work neatly enough for boat-building,
and can make sails. On board the Boiissemroinn he will always
be read) - to lend a hand, and I know that whatever he does
will be executed dexterously and tidily. I like a gentleman to
be able to use his hands, and I hold a private opinion that a
gentleman ought naturally to be a neater workman than another,
as he is more refined. The Captain is as steady as he is
accurate lie has been working most patiently with me the
whole of the day in setting up the saloon and getting it into
order, in spite- of the intense heat.

A Summer Voyage.

The saloon being too much crowded with boxes and other
matters we dined in the court between it and the poop cabin,

.Hi

' ' i ! . I

TV/*? Galley Stove.

a court that I intend henceforth to call the galley. Our table
consisted of two boxes, one upon another, our chairs were two
camp-stools. The natural heat, already more than sufficient,

I g The Sadne.

was increased by the proximity of the Patron's stove. The
disorder about us was of that absolutely complete kind that
paralyses one for the time being, and seems to say, "You may
conquer me in time by patience, industry, and skill, but for the
present you have to put up with me as if I were a bailiff in
possession."

Oh, wonderful and delightful discovery! The Patron is not
only a cook, but a good one! He made us a dejeuner and a
dinner to day that would have done credit to a well-kept private
house. The Patron's cookery is not elaborately artful, but he
knows the plainer French dishes, and knows them well. You
< r et little now of the old homely PYench cookerv in the
hotels, but it has the two great merits of being agreeable whilst
you (.line, ami digestible afterwards. This is more than can
always be said of experimental mixtures. Very likely you
think I am a sybarite for paying any attention to cookery, and
that a philosopher might dine very well with a biscuit and a
slice of tinned beef from Chicago. Being, however, neither
sybarite nor philosopher, but at the present time simply a
practical traveller, I rejoice in the Patron's talent for the most
practical reasons. For us it is an emancipation. It at once
delivers us from all trouble about seeking our meals in
the inns, from the waste of time that such seeking always
involves, and from the constant inconvenience of having-
to adjust our travelling arrangements so as to bring us to
inns at meal-times.

I find that the Patron began his culinary career long ago as

sistant cook to General Lamoriciere, and that since then he

has been servant to more than one officer of rank. Before

finding out this we observed that he waited well. In a word,

A Summer Voyage. 19

instead of a rough donkey driver, which was all I had expected,
I have an experienced servant, ,who is cook and butler in one.

The speed attained to-day has been very slow, though the tug
is a powerful boat, but she had a heavy train, consisting of two
great laden barges, two great empty ones, and a berrichon of the
same size as our own boat laden with coals down to the water's
edge. The steamer is perfectly new, and this is her first voyage.
She is a screw-boat, intended for the narrow Upper Saone, between
Gray and Corre. Not being as yet accustomed to manage her
with a train of barges, the sailors got the train at one time into
confusion across the whole breadth of the river, and we all
drifted together. It was a long time before order was re-
established. This gave me an opportunity for admiring the
extreme readiness and skill of the bargemen, who ran along the
edges of the boats with the sureness of acrobats, and jumped
from one to another. Such agility comes from years of practice,
beginning generally with early youth, and it would be madness
to attempt to imitate it. Our Pilot was conspicuous in this ; he
seemed to be everywhere at the same time, and was always full
of hearty willingness and good temper.

The decision to avail myself of the tug was all my own. The
Pilot declared that we should ascend the river quite as rapidly
with our own donkey, Zoulou. With all due deference to his
experience, I declined to believe this. Besides, it is not clear
that he has had any experience with donkeys. The Saone
barges are usually drawn by a pair of horses. The Boussanroum
is simply a canal boat, intended for the very narrowest canals.
Even river-boats are towed, and the other berrichon that is with
us has her donkey in its stable on board, being towed exactly
like ourselves.

C 2

The SaSne.

It is ;i remarkably odd position this of having a crew that one
has never seen before. I have been studying the two men with
anxious interest since we started, as the whole expedition will
fall through if they do not work well. This evening both the
men worked most willingly on board as house servants. The
tents not being set up yet, the saloon is for the present a
double-bedded room at night. The men set up the bedsteads

ami made the beds very cleverly, whilst I looked in through the
window giving directions. If thev go on as they have beeun
it will be a successful expedition.

The weather to-day has been windy, beginning with a light
breeze against us, that increased to a strong breeze in the
afternoon. The saloon is well set up, and watertight, I hope, in
e of rain.

A Summer Voyage. 21

Evidently our Patron is an economical man. I told him to
go on shore and buy some candles and some strawberries. He
returned with the candles, and said he had found strawberries,
very fine ones, but too dear, so he left them. The price was
quite ordinary, even for France. The Patron seems so decided
that I shall not easily induce him to permit me a little ex-
travagance in strawberries. He appears to think that he is
in loco parentis, and that I am a young boy who ought not to
be allowed to spend his pocket-money on fruit.

'$S?&P&E2tts*&*k

""'■' J -.-^\.

LETTER X.

In Motion, beyond Seurre, June ^rrf.

The night we spent at Raconnay was peaceful enough as the
train of boats slept on the star-reflecting waters, but I cannot
say so much for last night, which we spent in the Trugny Canal
below r Seurre.

It is one of the peculiarities of voyaging behind a tug that
you have no idea where you will pass the night. That depends
on circumstances, and on the will of the tug's captain, who
comes to anchor exactly where he pleases, quite independently

The Sadne.

of the towns and villages on the shore. A passenger steamer
invariably stops at a town ; a tug may stop in the country where
there is not a rool in sight.

We had got the tents up before night came on working in a
fearful heat. The inside of a bcrrichon, under a blazing
Burgundy sun, is one of the hottest places in my experience.
The black walls arc high enough to concentrate the heat, and
almost to double it. However, the Captain and I worked cheer-
fully enough inside this oven, getting out of it now and then to
be in the cooler river breeze, and the consequence of our labours
is that both the tents are set up exactly as they ought to be,
and ready for a gale of wind.

What a happy thing it is to travel with a man who has no
false notions about luxury ! When the Captain's tent was set
up and furnished, with its Japanese matting on the oak floor, its
little iron bedstead and table, its single camp chair, and its
fresh-looking ewer and basin, 1 * he remarked that in all his
experience he had never encamped so comfortably before. The
other tent, which is reserved for the American artist, is exactly
like the Captain's, but smaller. 1 used this tent myself during
the night, and a very wild night it was.

We had a great thunderstorm, with violent gusts of wind and a
deluge of rain. In the midst of this, about two o'clock in the morn-
ing, it suddenly occurred to my recollection that the boxes con-
taining my books were outside in the galley, and that as they were
wooden boxes, and had not tin covers, the rain would probably
get in. There is no material thing that I care for with as much

These arc made of paper and are quite satisfactory, being light and unbreakable
11 as perfectly watertight. The ewers are of a rational cone-like shape, not easy
to upset, and they hold a good supply of water.

The Tents from "La Coin- Fennell:

A Summer Voyage. 2

solicitude as my books, so I immediately got up and went to
house them in the saloon. Then it successively occurred to me
that a number of other things were out in the rain, and I found
much occupation in sheltering them, so the night was a very
disturbed night for me, and the less agreeable that we have no
companion ladders yet to go up and down, and there is no
communication between the parts of the boat except by walking
along the gunwale. As the wood became slippery from the
rain I was likely enough to get a fall, and could not help
laughing by myself in the midst of the lightning and rain
at this original way of passing the night. Would you believe
that I took a pleasure in it ? For one thing, I like to hear rain
pattering heavily into water, and it is grand to see a dark
landscape suddenly illuminated by lightning. Besides, a night
of this kind recalls past experiences in old camping and boating
times.

Whilst occupied in this way I remarked that the boat
inclined towards the port side, and attributed it to unequal
loading, the inequality being afterwards increased by the rain-
water, which, in a flat-bottomed boat, would flow to the lower
angle. Having quieted myself with this explanation, and not
being able to sleep, I had taken a chair and a book in the saloon
when I heard a sudden commotion at the stern of the Boussem-
ronm. The Pilot had got up, and so had the bargeman
alongside, and for a minute they were evidently in a great hurry
about something. Luckily the Pilot had noticed the heeling of
the boat and immediately guessed the true cause. When night
fell we were tied to the other berrichon, which, as you know, is
laden with coal almost to the water's edge. The ropes that
fastened us to this boat had been shortened by the rain, and had

24 The Sadne

acted with irresistible force, lifting up the starboard side of
the coal-boat and depressing our port side. They had done
more, they had depressed the port side of the coal-boat at the
same time, and as it was already close to the water, the least
additional depression was perilous in the extreme. The man on
the coal-boat had taken the alarm just when our Pilot did, and
by a great effort, not one minute too soon, they together
succeeded in disengaging her. Now, what would have happened
if the men had remained asleep a little longer? The berrichon
would certainly have sunk to the bottom, and its master and his
wife would have been drowned in their cabin. The ropes that
bound our boat to the other would have capsized ours, and our
men also might have been drowned in their cabin, as well as the
Captain in his tent, and your present correspondent in the
saloon. 1

So you perceive that in the same night we have had a
thunderstorm and imminent risk of shipwreck with loss
of life.

LETTER XI.

Gray, June y/i.

We have arrived at Gray in such a downpour of rain that
we are waiting till it clears before landing. This gives me
an opportunity for writing a letter, the great convenience of

1 I felt very much dissatisfied with roy.-tlf for not having perceived the danger and
t^iven the alarm, but a^ I am not a bargeman, and as the heeling of our vessel was
slight, the true cause did not occur to me. Bargemen are watchful from hard ex-
perience. The Pilot tells me that accidents often happen, and that the overladen
boats not infrequently sink. A berrichon, in particular, has very little stability.

A Summer Voyage. 25

this voyage being that when there is any delay I can open my
desk and find myself in my study at once.

The berrichon laden with coal that nearly sank in the canal
is inhabited by a young couple, whom I have been watching
with much interest since we started. The man is lively and
very intelligent with the most frank and pleasant manners,
besides which he is a fine strong-looking fellow ; the woman
is pretty and graceful, and as clean in her dress and surround-
ings as a young lady. As soon as her husband found we were
suffering considerable inconvenience from the want of com-
panion-ladders he said they could very soon be made, as he
had wood on board his boat that was at our disposal and also
a set of joiner's tools. He and the Pilot, therefore, set to work
at once, and in little more than an hour we possessed rough
ladders that answered the purpose. People like yourself who
have staircases can hardly imagine what an immense acquisi-
tion a rough ladder is when one has no staircase at all.

The strangest coincidences happen in real life. When we
got near St. Jean de Losne and were about to part company,
as the laden berrichon was going to Dijon by the Burgundy
canal, the young bargeman told me that he had offered him-
self and his boat to my friend at Chalon for our voyage.
It was a matter of deep regret, to him, not to have been
accepted. He had a liking for long voyages and wished to
know the whole of the River Saone, instead of being always
sent along the same tiresome canals. When telling me this
he added that my friend had declared I would have " neither
women, nor children, nor fleas, nor bugs." Observe the
powerful effect of concentration in verbal expression ! It is
true that I had objected to these four kinds of living things,

The Sadne.

but separately ; my friend had brought them together, only
too effectively, in a single phrase. " I could not drown my
wife, could I?" said the happy husband. "Some wives," I
answered, " might be improved by drowning, especially such
as are scolds, but you ought not to make a personal application
i >f my objections. I had never seen your wife and had no notion
that she would be so comme il faut ; I had thought it well
to protect myself against a possible slattern or scold. 1 felt
well able to order men about, but was destitute of authority
over women, and their exclusion was a general measure of
prudence to which there might have been an exception."
Just before we separated the young woman cooked her
husband's dinner in the little open space before their cabin,
and I noticed the perfect cleanliness of everything.

At St. Jean de Losne I landed for the first time since our
departure, having been fifty-seven hours on board without
liberty but certainly not without exercise. The waking hours
had been passed in manual labour. I like manual labour,
especially if constructive, better than any sports or games,
and find that it does me more good. Will it be unseemly
boasting if I tell you that I am a fairly decent sort of joiner
for plain work ? I am slow but accurate, like the Captain,
and between us we are worth perhaps fivepence an hour.

During our evening walk at St. Jean de Losne we happened
to be close behind a bourgeois of that little town, who was
taking his two young daughters out for a walk and giving
them some paternal advice. The thesis of the discourse was
that every human being has a right to our respect until he has
done something to forfeit it, and this quite independently of
his position in society. "Therefore," said the father, "you

A Slimmer Voyage.

ought never to treat any one haughtily or contemptuously, but
you should be civil and polite to every human being, and really
respect him, however humble may be his station." This is
merely an abridgment, the kernel of the doctrine. It is
the good side of French equality, and excessively French.
The family were very comme il fant in appearance, and be-
longed to the upper middle class.

The curious independence of our present kind of life is felt
in nothing more than in the morning departures. There is

C., >»2»w

St. Jean de Losne.

no packing to be done, no bill to be paid, no thought about
taking luggage to a station, and whether we are awake or asleep
the bed-room itself starts into motion with all our belongings.
The only rule to be observed is not to go ashore for a walk
between four and six in the morning.

I have promulgated laws about habits and hours. 1 I rise at
five and have breakfast at seven with the Captain. This first

1 These laws were well observed during the whole of the expedition. The Patron
was not an unpimctual man, and the Captain maintained discipline with military firm-
ness. Our daily round of life went on as regularly as if we had been on board ship.

28 The S aone.

breakfast always consists of soup only, varied according to the
cook's resources. It is the best thing to begin the day upon,
as it gives good staying power without embarrassing the diges-
tion. The men, especially the Pilot, follow the common habit
of the French working class in the towns and of boatmen on
the river, by beginning the day with a heavy dram of undiluted
brandy. I have been arguing agaiast this, but who can argue
against a custom ? Men who get up at three or four o'clock
on raw mornings on a comfortless boat appreciate the temporary
comfort of a big dram, and on fine summer mornings they
repeat the dose from habit.

We have our second breakfast, the dejeuner, at eleven and
dine at seven. The Captain spends the evening with me and
at ten exactly he retires to his own tent. I then sling my
hammock, fall asleep as soon as I lie down, and awake at five
the next morning precisely.

Our style of living is founded on the principle of decency
without luxury. We have a cheap tablecloth and napkins,
with the commonest crockery, and silver plate is replaced either
by pewter or tinned iron. The Captain has purchased some
very handsome silvery-looking forks for three sous a piece. We
possess some common wine, and three bottles of good Burgundy
which are to be reserved for state occasions. There are also
other drinks in the cellar, including a sort of perry that the
Patron makes of dried grapes, with pears, and other ingredients.
The flavour is pleasant but rather harsh and it provokes one to
drink again. The Patron seems to be quite addicted to it, but
we have no right to blame him for an indulgence which in the
hottest hours could scarcely exceed our own.

Except at meal-times and in the evening, the saloon is my

A Summer Voyage. 29

private room and I can write in it pleasantly even when the
boat is in motion. I have never been in anything that glided
so smoothly as this boat. The Captain's discretion is entirely
to be depended upon. He always leaves me alone except when
specially invited to join me. He reads in his own tent, or sits
on the forecastle deck observing the scenery with his binocular.
He saves me much trouble by taking upon himself all the duty
of housekeeping. It is he who buys all provisions. When
we stop at a place he immediately lands and sets off to
do his marketing, followed by the Patron with a basket on
his arm.

Being occupied all day with my writing, I had no time to
observe the river except by occasional glances through the
window, but I discovered a means of knowing our exact
position without even stirring from my seat. In my desk
there is a complete ordnance map of the Saone pasted in
cuttings in a book, so with this and the mariner's compass I
knew at a glance the situation of the boat as we followed the
windings of the river. A good large-scale map makes one very
knowing. The Pilot is much surprised by the accuracy
of my information. He himself cannot make use of a map
and is obliged to trust entirely to his recollection of the
river itself.

When we arrived at Pontailler the sky was black, and by
the time we sat down to dinner we were in the midst of a
thunderstorm with rain that would have seemed the heaviest
in our experience had we not remembered that it always sounds
ten times heavier on canvas. Some water had got through the
roof in the last thunderstorm so I had doubled the cloth and
this time it resisted perfectly. The canvas walls are of course

The Saoiie.

wetted through in storms but they soon dry again, and no worse
effect is produced than the cooling of the interior by evaporation.
I have linings to all the tents that might be used if necessary,
but they diminish internal space and the Captain thinks it
better to do without them. Certainly they make a tent look-
more comfortable because they hide the wet canvas. This is
only an apparent advantage. The real advantage is that if
you have a thin worn place in the tent from which the water
drops, the lining arrests the drops. 1

Gray, the Bridge and Weir.

The weirs and locks on the Saone are at the same time
telephonic stations from which you may send news relating to
the navigation. Near one of these stations I told the Pilot
to have our whereabouts telephoned to Gray, where I have
friends. The lock-keepers sometimes hold telephonic conversa-
tions, and I remember hearing a double conversation of this
kind up and down the river at a distance of about thirty miles

1 In winter encampments linings are useful as a protection against snow, which
comes through the outer canvas in a fine powdei

A Summer Voyage. 31

on one side and fifty on the other. At the longer distance I
recognised a girl's voice, and afterwards a woman's, and the
lock-keeper told me that he knew the speakers individually
by their voices. The girl said she was afraid, the telephone
seemed uncanny to her. Whether uncanny or not, these
telephones render immense services to the river navigation as
every rise of the water is announced beforehand.

LETTER XII.

♦ Near Ovanches, June 6th.

Mr. Pennell joined us yesterday at Gray, and we passed the
night there. Not knowing that we slept on board the
Boussemroum he had retained bedrooms for us at his hotel,
but considering that the tug was to start at four in the morning
we preferred our usual domicile on board, and recommended
our new companion to follow our example.

The Captain told me of an improved kind of camp bed, and
we found exactly what he described, the lightest, most comfort-
able, and most rationally contrived beds for use in tents that
I have ever met with. I at once bought two of them for
my guests. My own hammock is perfection, and I have no
desire for anything else.

Though Mr. Pennell had not expected to sleep under canvas
he accepted his fate with a cheerfulness that did him credit — the
more credit that tents always look so damp and dreary im-
mediately after heavy rain.

We were all invited to dine at Gray by the kind friends who
had been expecting our arrival. It was a strange transition

3 2 The Sao iic .

to be suddenly transported from our life on the berrichon to a
brilliantly-lighted dining-room with a dinner very prettily
served in charming society, and to hear afterwards a duet on
violin and piano, our host and hostess being both accomplished
musicians. After dinner, amongst other works of art, we were
shown a bas-relief executed by a banker in prison. Mr. Pennell
and I were both surprised by the rare degree of cleverness, for
an amateur, displayed in this attempt. It is not always good
to be too clever. The great manual and imitative dexterity
possessed by this remarkable banker had been his ruin, as
he got into trouble by forging cheques. I remember the man
himself very well, having been introduced to him some years
ago as to an amateur of a very superior order, at a time when
nobody could imagine that his amateurship would go so far
as the fraudulent imitation of handwriting. Our host, who is
himself in the Hank of France, told me that the forgeries were
executed with such astonishing skill that the victims believed
the false signatures to be authentic when they saw them, and in
one case a victim said his own handwriting was the forgery and
the imitation was his autograph. What surprises one most in
this history is that a forging banker could ever hope to escape
detection. Would he not, in the course of his daily business,
be incessantly exposed to discover}- ?

My friend told me a lugubrious little anecdote. On his first
arrival at Gray he had gone to look at an appartement to let,
where the ground -floor was occupied by a stone-cutter who had
filled the courtyard with tombstones. When my friend gave
his name the maker of tombstones immediately inscribed it
on one of them, in the place reserved for the deceased. " Only
the date of mv demise was wantinc"

A Summer Voyage. 33

Awaking the next morning at my usual hour of five, I found
the Boiissemroum already in motion and going at a superior
speed as we had left nearly all our train behind us. At one
place we had an emotion. A wire-rope for a ferry-boat was
stretched across the river. These ropes can be either dropped
into the water, in which case they sink by their own weight,
or else stretched high above it. In the present case the rope
was not stretched very high and it hung in a festoon. The
steamer lowered her funnels and went straight for the lowest
part of the festoon. It therefore seemed probable to all of us
that the gable of our saloon would be caught. As soon as
I perceived the danger I wanted to go forward to be out of
the way of the crash and the splinters, but the Pilot stood
on the companion ladder and would not let me go. " In a
moment," he said, " if we touch, the berrichon will capsize and
we shall be all in the water." I care nothing about being
flung into water, but have an objection to being crushed and
wounded under splintering wood. The steamer went on fear-
lessly, the wire rope seemed to fly over our heads and the
saloon was cleared. The captain of the steamer said after-
wards that he had not forgotten my gable but had taken its
level. Later, in the ascending voyage, the crew of the steamer
made a mistake on their own account, but this requires a word
of explanation. On these steamers, quite in the fore-part,
there is a small square water-tight well that goes entirely
through the vessel. Through this narrow well, or case, a
pointed iron stake is worked up and down by means of a
crank. This is called a " brick " in French, and as it weighs
two tons the mere weight of it ensures its sinking into the
mud, where it anchors the vessel better and more quickly than

34 The Sadne.

an ordinary anchor. When the boat is in motion the "brick"
rises up like a mast. It was in this state, like a mast, when
we approached a very low iron bridge near Chemilly, and the
man whose duty it was to lower it was suddenly called away
to something else which drove the matter out of his mind.
Remembering it too late he reached his wheel only to loosen
it and rush away out of danger. The " brick " caught against
the bridge, and as the upper part of the stake is hollow it
broke, and came down with a crash, shattering a wheel and
other things upon the deck. There it had to remain, a dis-
couraging little heap of ruins, sadly out of place on a first
trip, amidst the pretty bouquets of flowers. Not only were
flowers given to the men on the steamer but even bottles
of liqueurs were let down from bridges, and round the bottles
were bunches of cigars neatly arranged with ribands. Besides
this, salutes were fired, and women smiled graciously, and
everything had a festal air, but that accident spoiled all. It
was a disagreeable duty to telegraph an account of it to the
owners.

The first experience of going through a tunnel on the Bons-
scmroum was strange and interesting, even imposing. The
steamer went more slowly than before and its powerful
rhythmic breathings were reverberated along the vault. There
was no other sound except the wash of the water against the
mason ry. There was no reason for any real apprehension, we
were as safe in the tunnel as on the river, yet the imagination
received one of those solemn impressions that are sometimes
produced even when our reason quite understands the means.
The train of boats was in fact passing through a vast subter-
ranean hall, dark from its very length, and this hall had a floor

A Summer Voyage. 35

of water without stepping-place for the foot of man. In a
railway tunnel you could walk if necessary, and the train takes
you through so quickly that your estimate of distance is
deceived. In a canal tunnel you measure every yard of the
distance. The gloom increases to the middle, and then slowly,
slowly, the light brightens. At long intervals you get a
momentary glimpse of sky by looking up one of the air-shafts,
when you see a tiny disc of blue.

I ought, perhaps, to explain that the canals on the Upper
Saone are short. They are not lateral canals, like those which
run parallel to the less navigable rivers, but they cut off the
larger curves and they afford opportunities for gaining a higher
level by means of locks. There are sixteen of them altogether,
not one of them more than two miles long.

At one of our stoppages to-day a man came and told us that
our progress was announced by telegraph to the town of Port-
sur-Saone in the following terms : — " A minister, accompanied
by three gentlemen, is coming with the new steamer." He said
that in consequence of this it was very likely that the Mayor
and Common Council would be there to receive us with due
ceremony. The explanation is that a donkey, by a pleasantry
that does not seem to lose its salt with age, is often called a
" minister " in France, not with disparaging reference to
Protestant ministers, but to members of the Cabinet. If,
therefore, the people at Port-sur-Saone should be taken in
the sender of the telegram will shelter himself behind the plea
that he only intended to describe our fellow-voyager Zoulou.
More probably they will not be taken in.

The steamboat people have a taste for staying in the canals
during the night. We are staying in one to-night, near a bend

D 2

y The Saone.

of the river more than six miles long that encloses a consider-
able peninsula, with three villages. The canal cuts the neck of
the peninsula and is about a mile and a half long. It passes
under a hilL

LETTER XIII.

Corre, June %th.

We arrived at Corre at nine o'clock this morning. I wrote
last from the canal opposite Ovanches. Early on the morning
of the 7th we passed through the tunnel there. I awoke just as
the boat was beginning to move and lay quietly in my hammock,
as we glided from the bright early sunshine into darkness. I
lighted a candle on the table near me and opened a book, but
the interest of my own surroundings was stronger, for the
moment, than that of literature. The regular and powerful
respiration of the engine, the surrounding darkness, the know-
ledge that this comfortable little room was being taken through
the interior of a hill, though it floated so quietly as only to
communicate a scarcely perceptible swing to the hammock
under me, all this was too novel an experience to be forgotten
in the pages of a book. At last the interior of the cabin began
suddenly to brighten, then it was full daylight once again, and
time to meet the work of the day and to leave off dreaming
about the majesty of human enterprises.

I think a human being never feels himself greater as a pait of
the race or smaller as an individual than in a tunnel. Reclining
as much at ease as a prince in a palanquin, I was drawn majes-
tically over currentless waters by the obedient power of fire,

A Summer Voyage. 37

through a costly corridor prepared for me in the bowels of the
earth. This is the majestic aspect of the matter. The humili-
ating consideration was that without the help of others I must
have walked over the hill exactly as our donkey Zoulou, if he
had been put to it. My superiority to him is in my nearer
kinship to the makers of the tunnel.

Zoulou's master, the Patron, is rather self-willed, and like many
small men has boundless confidence in his own judgment. As
we were passing through a lock two or three miles below Port-
sur-Saone he went on shore and busied himself about getting
fodder for his donkey, paying no heed to our cries. " Plenty of
time, plenty of time ! " he repeated. The men on the steamer
took a malicious pleasure in starting without him, and as they
would not stop for him afterwards he had to run on the towing-
path about two miles. He ran very well for an old man, and
nearly kept up with the steamer, so we got him on board again
at the first lock. It is highly diverting to see a man running
when you know that he must be in a rage.

Equally amusing was the Patron's first and only lesson in the
art of rowing. We have a lumbering flat-bottomed boat that
serves us for a dingey and is set in motion with a pair of very
heavy and awkward sculls tied to the gunwale with loops of
cord. As the Pilot is very strong he can row this thing when he
is seated on a loose board set on the gunwales that makes a
temporary thwart far too high for any effective pull. The
Patron, who is a small man and had never grasped an oar
(not to speak of two crossing sculls at once), made a series of
most unsuccessful attempts, and ended by declaring his conviction
that rowing was a bad way of propelling boats and that the oar
was very inferior to a scoop. To demonstrate this, he fetched

1 A. £ Q 7 a

■? 8 The Saone.

his own scoop x from the Boussemroum, and as the water was calm
he certainly did succeed in communicating a very slow motion
to the heavy boat, on which he chuckled and triumphed, having-
demonstrated the folly of oarsmen and the futility of their art.

When Mr. Pennell came on board he was struck with the
Patron's name, Vernet, as being that of the famous painter, and
asked him if his Christian name was not Horace. " No, it is
Jean." The strange idea then occurred to Mr. Pennell that the
Pilot must be called Horace, as Horace Vernet must surely be
on board in two persons if not in one ; so he went and asked
what was his Christian name. " Je m'appelle Horace, monsieur."
The coincidence is odd in itself, but Mr. Pennell's presentiment
about it is much more wonderful. 2

On reaching Port-sur-Saone we were ready to accord a
gracious reception to the municipal authorities, and to present
them to the minister, who remained in his private cabin, but no
municipal authorities appeared. Evidently the word had been
interpreted in its second sense as meaning only an ass; that
ancient pleasantry is now too generally known.

Last night we slept on a canal near a village called Betaucourt,
and we came on early, reaching Corre at nine in the morning
under a salute of guns. We paid a visit to the steamer and
were cordially received by the captain and men who of course
invited us to drink. The drink was some green mint cordial
which had been lowered from a bridge with a piece of string.
The steamer was decorated with a final bouquet on her arrival.

1 A scoop is a wooden ladle used for emptying boats. That belonging to the
Boussemroum was at the end of a long stick, and so made a sort of awkward paddle.

2 As Horace is blessed with a line appetite, his name has been changed by his
comrades to Vorace.

A Summer Voyage. 39

The accident to the " brick " had thrown a damper over what
would else have been a festive occasion.

The crew of the tug, seven in number, had been overworked
in the ascent, especially in the locks, but they were fine strong
men and took the work heartily, regretting only that they were
not ten instead of seven. One of them with a very mefry
honest face and splendid muscular development had lost patience
now and then, but even when most impatient he had been civil.
In one of his worst moments, when he had far too much for one
man, he exclaimed in a voice of thunder, with a grand vibration
of the letter r : —

" II faudrait avoir quarrrante mains, et quarrrante pieds, et
puis quarrra,7ite jambes ! " The addition of the forty legs as an
afterthought to connect the feet with the body, had amused me
as much as the omission of the forty arms. I regret to add
that on another occasion when particularly embarrassed with
the Boussemroum, our muscular friend exclaimed in his wrath,
"Je voudrais — je voudrais que ce berrichon soit au diable /"
Afterwards, however, he came on board the Boussemroum with
all his comrades by special invitation, and was much interested
in my contrivances for the maintenance of order.

We have come as fast as we could from Chalon for a convoy
travelling in the daytime only, and yet we have spent seven
nights on the way, and seven whole days of steaming, besides
two half days. And all this to accomplish 1 50 miles ! Was
not the Pilot right when he said that the donkey would bring us
up as rapidly ? No, he was not right, and he has acknowledged
his error. The strength of the current in the Upper Saone, now
swollen by rain and far swifter than in the low country, acting
on a mass like the Boussemrotim, and aided by a head-wind,

4°

The Satne.

would simply have dragged poor Zoulou back into the water
and drowned him. We might possibly have made the ascent
with a pair of horses. 1

At the rate of only three miles an hour, and ten hours a
day, we should have required five days instead of eight, but
the great cause of delay was the locks. At each of these
the train of boats had to be disconnected, each boat passing
separately, and then the train had to be formed again beyond

I Up

The Lock at Corre.

the lock. The fastening of boats with huge ropes takes much
more time than the coupling of railway carriages. Sometimes
we had to wait at a lock till a descending train had passed
through.

Our last lock, at Corre, where we left the steamer behind

1 Subsequent experience proved clearly that we should never have accomplished the
ascent with horses, for a reason to be explained later. And as we could not row or
sail the Boussemroum a tug was absolutely the only thing.

A Summer Voyage. 41

took us out of the Saone altogether, and into the canal that
now connects that river with the Meuse and with the canal
systems of Belgium and Holland. We are now beyond the
navigable Saone, and the Boussemroum has reached the highest
point of her voyage. We feel that it is an immense deliver-
ance to be disengaged from the steam-tug. The Captain and
I have had no liberty for a week. He, at least, could amuse
himself by looking at the scenery, but I have only enjoyed
it by glimpses, having been so much absorbed in my writing.
Still, notwithstanding the confinement to the boat, I have not
felt dull for a single minute. Hard work by day, sound sleep
by night, are two excellent preventers of ennui. It is clear
that this system of travelling, in spite of its slowness, has
one inappreciable advantage, a retreat is always close at
hand if the voyage itself becomes tedious. The saloon has
a most convenient bureau, and a small library of fifty volumes
in a bookcase. With these, and perfect privacy, no place is
ever dull and the worst weather is not depressing.

LETTER XIV.

Corre, "June <)th.

It has been a very hard rule for me to follow — that rule of
abstinence from all description of what I came to see, namely,
the river and the places upon its banks. It was, however,
absolutely the only way to avoid confusion. I could not
describe places twice over, and yet I wished to tell you some-
thing about our ascending voyage.

Corre is the Khartoum of the Saone and Chalon is its

, 2 The Saone.

Cairo. As the two Niles meet at Khartoum, so the Saone
and the Coney meet together at Corre which is situated on
the tongue of land between them. The parallel may be
pursued further. Chalon is on the right bank of the Saone,
and in the plain, exactly as Cairo is situated ; Chalon has
domes and an obelisk, and as Cairo has had her Egyptologist,
M iriette, so Chalon has possessed her almost equally well-
known Egyptologist, Chabas. At Chalon the floods of the
Saone arc like the rising of the Nile ; they inundate the
plain.

I traced out this analogy to amuse myself, as it sometimes
happens that when there is one resemblance there are half a
dozen, but neither Egypt nor Nubia can have anything like
the Coney. This delightful stream has its source, like the
Saone, in the department of the Yosges at the foot of the
Monts Faucilks, and after running thirty-eight miles through
a wooded country which so far as we could see it was very
beautiful, it joins the Saone at a place like a picture, which is
the expression of its own peculiar loveliness. The Coney is
one of those hill-rivers that seem destined by Nature to be a
constant succession of confined but exquisite scenes, such as
have delighted poets in all ages and, though so frequently
painted, are still favourite haunts of the landscape artist.
Utterly unknown to fame, the Coney passes through its long
wooded valley, turns its rustic mills, and never in all its
course flows near anything like a town. There is a village
called Selles on the Coney, a few miles above Corre, where
boats are built, and when the stream is swollen by rains these
boats are navigated down to the junction with the Saone.
This is all the navigation there is upon the Coney, and it

THE SAONE

From die Source
to the Confluence -with
tke. Ocrrion, .

YiOME>iL

Source

don t

A Summer Voyage. 43

reminds me of a curious fact that our Pilot told me about
large boats that are sometimes built near the forests where
wood is cheap and yet where there is no river, but now and
then there comes a flood and then these boats are floated
away for miles over the inundated fields till they reach the
banks of a small stream that is a tributary of the Saone —
a strange beginning of their voyages.

The Coney narrowly missed celebrity, for the great river
might fairly have been called by its name. It discharges at
the junction as much water in a minute as the Saone, and its
previous course has been almost, if not quite, as long. But if
we examine the claims of young rivers to give their names to
mature ones we find some remarkable exceptions to the rule, if
there is a rule, that the largest and longest of the early confluents
ought to preserve its name to the end. The most striking
example in my knowledge is the Seine. Where that river meets
the Yonne, the Yonne is the stronger of the two, and therefore
ought to have given its name to the river that flows under the
Pont Neuf. But if we go up the Yonne we find at its junction
with the Cure that the Cure is the greater river, consequently
the Yonne at Sens ought to be the Cure, and the Seine at Paris
ought to be the Cure also. Poor humble, yet beautiful, Cure,
known only to artists and anglers, yet having the best of claims
to a world-wide celebrity !

The Captain and I visited the Saone above the junction.
There it has the character of a shallow rapid canoe river, any
other kind of navigation being manifestly impossible. It flows
through a plain bounded by steep low hills, and its banks are
not wooded like those of the Coney. As I was sketching the
young Saone from the road and the Captain sat near me,

44 7"/'''' Sadne.

smoking, we observed two gendarmes in full uniform coming
straight at us across the fields. I said to the Captain, "They
probably take us for spies and may arrest us." He seemed to
think this not improbable ; however, although the gendarmes
came up to us they simply looked at me, saw that I was
sketching, and walked along the road. 1

The canal that joins the Saone to the Meuse passes between
the Saone and the Coney, and meets them exactly at their
junction. It is a canal of the greatest commercial importance,
as it joins the navigation of the north and south very con-
veniently for Belgium as well as for Alsatia and Lorraine.

The Boussemroum is moored in this canal close to a beautiful

private park, with finely-grown trees of different species crowded

like an aviary with singing birds. This reminds me very much

of some charming places in England. The view along the

canal bank leads the eye pleasantly to the old church at Corre,

a small Romanesque edifice with a grey tower, certainly one of

the most picturesque of old churches, but more suitable for a

water-colour painter than for a linear draughtsman. The greys

of the walls are cool for the most part, but elsewhere beautifully

tinted by lichens, whilst the red and gold of the tiled roofs give

an admirable contrast. This old church is perfection at all

times, quietly beautiful under a cloudy sky, and splendid

against the azure and white of a sunny day.

Our sudden departure from Chalon interrupted the joiner
there, and this is the first opportunity for completing his
work, so the Pilot sought for a joiner in the village and ended

1 Subsequent events proved that we were watched all along in consequence of a
recent law about spies, and a still more recent and stringent order to put the law
in force.

*■

wffi&i

Mm j

r ¥M

iL 1 - '

A Summer Voyage. 45

by discovering that there was one on the hill-side engaged in
agriculture and with his clothes all earthy. This gave at first
the impression of a peasant amateur, but a very short acquaint-
ance proved him to be exceptionally intelligent, and on visiting
his house, which is his own property, I had the opportunity of
admiring the prettiest and most commodious joiner's workshop
I ever saw anywhere, beautifully finished throughout and admir-
ably lighted, with a superb set of tools in excellent order and a

-> ;Jfc

A-%^-'^. ...

V3»,V

Tin- Chweh
at Corre.

lathe. I then discovered that my new acquaintance could
speak English, so I gave him directions about his work in
English. This was rather a surprise to Mr. Pennell, who after-
wards entered into conversation with the workman, and found
that he had lived nine years in the United States. He "guessed "
that extensive region to be " a right smart place," an expression
which, Mr. Pennell tells me, is very good and pure American.

Mr. Pennell has a great liking for gipsies, which is now a
fellow-feeling as we are gipsies ourselves He was glad to find

The Saone.

a group of them with their carts not far from the river Coney.
He began to sketch them, on which they very soon broke up
their pretty group to hinder him, and he tells me they have
a great dislike to being sketched and will always avoid it
whenever possible. This may, perhaps, be attributed to the

•Hi'

- tX area

. m&

, ;7l- .. ' ' li/r --T--- J* . - i

\-7~ S Ts3?f>j ■' '■.»

The Land Gipsies

at Corre.

old superstitious feeling about power to injure the human
being whose image you possess.

After going to see the gipsies we had an oddly delusive
view of the tents and hut on the Boussemroum. The canal
was completely invisible to us, but the nearer bank of it was

A Sin timer Voyage. 47

just sufficiently high to conceal the boat, so that our habitations
appeared to be an encampment on dry land, under the trees
of the park. The effect was so absolutely illusory that a
photograph taken from our position would have effectively
represented a land encampment with nothing to correct the
illusion. So much for plain ocular demonstration !

The nightingales sang very well in the daytime in the park
close to us, but at night they surpassed themselves, keeping
up a wonderful concert in especial honour of the Boussemroinn.
I fell asleep, however, after listening with much pleasure as long
as I could, but was awakened some hours later by a serenade
in masculine voices. I believe this human music was produced
by the sailors of the steam-tug. They sang harmoniously, and
I remembered enough of their song in the morning for the
Captain to recognise it as Le Lac de Geneve.

Our Pilot came during the day with a fine bouquet that
he had made to put on Mr. Pennell's tent in celebration of
his arrival at Corre. I fastened the bouquet on the tent myself
and Mr Pennell kindly shook hands with the Pilot, who seems
to have acquired already a special regard for our American
guest.

LETTER XV

Corre, June lot/i.

This morning I walked down to the junction of the rivers,
and on returning saw the Pilot on the canal bank gesticulating
violently, and the Patron in the boat nodding his head at the
other in a way that he has when he has lost his temper. On
a nearer approach it become evident that they were at open

4S The Strove.

war. The Pilot had told the Patron once again how incom-
petent he is to manage a boat, which is a truth, but a truth
that may be repeated too frequently ; the Patron had answered
in bitterness, and after that each of them had given the other a
long through interrupted lecture on his faults and defects in
general. For some time it was impossible to stop them, and as
they shouted I had leisure to study their attitudes, which were
more amusing than their words. All quarrellers have their
own peculiar style of quarrelling. The Patron is bitter and
voluble, with sarcastic laughs and snorts ; the Pilot is tremend-
ously scornful, he expresses the utmost extremity of contempt
with a power that would be most valuable to a parliamentary
orator. Every now and then, on hearing the retort of his
adversary, the Pilot seems to boil over with indignation.
Every muscle seems to be stirring, and at such times be looks
as if he were about to leap upon his enemy for a death-grapple.
Meanwhile the Patron stands pale with rage, sometimes bitterly
eloquent, at others silent for lack of words hard enough for his
big adversary, and occasionally disappearing behind the bulwark
of the Bousscmroum, yet invariably popping up again as soon as
he has shaped or sharpened his rejoinder.

Mr. Pennell is troubled with apprehensions of his own. He
says, " Depend upon it, the big one will end by throwing the
little one into the water, and as the little one cannot swim
he will be drowned!" To this I answer, "Pilot may throw
Patron overboard, but if he does that his retriever-instinct will
at once compel him to jump in to the rescue. Besides, it will
be another life saved to boast of, and that temptation will be
irresistible. The fourteen saved lives will be converted into
fifteen ! Such an incident is most desirable as Pilot would

A Summer Voyage. m\

love Patron after saving him and they would dwell together
in unity."

I spare you the terms of the quarrel. They were in French
of a coarser quality than that which is familiar to you. I think
that quarrels are pleasant reading only when the antagonists
are refined and excel in the art of saying the most cutting
things with urbanity. Even Horace made a mistake when
he introduced that coarse quarrelling in the Journey to
Brundusium.

My way of dealing with the matter was this. As soon as
the fire of the quarrel began to exhaust itself, I took each of
the men aside and gave him a private lecture, telling him that
if their resentment was not controlled I should put a premature
end to the expedition. As I threatened to consult a lawyer
the Patron frankly acknowledged that I could turn him out
of his own boat which temporarily belongs to me. I discovered
that he had spoken disrespectfully to the Captain in my absence,
and for this he made an apology which the Captain was good
enough to accept. In this way peace was re-established and
the men spoke to each other civilly afterwards, but it is only
a truce. They are sure to quarrel again as soon as we descend
the river, for the Pilot cannot avoid giving orders and the Patron
will never endure that.

My own position is embarrassing. When one has organised
an expedition everything must, for the time being, be sub-
ordinated to its success. Now, it so happens that each of the
two men is in the highest degree valuable for the work that
lies before us, and Corre is not a port where either of them
could be replaced. At Chalon I could have reorganised the
expedition if necessary, I cannot do it here. The Pilot, with

cq The Sao iic.

his great physical strength and his knowledge of the river, will
be more than ever necessary when we have no tug to draw
the Bousscmroum, and as we want to live independently on
board, a house-servant is also a necessity. Now the Patron,
notwithstanding his hot temper, is really an excellent servant,
and in everything relating to house-work he obeys me with
the most cheerful alacrity. An amusing sign of his turn for
domestic service is that he has purchased a blue apion of the
kind that French men-servants wear. I might seek a year
before I replaced the Patron. I might wait indefinitely at
Corrc before I got a Pilot comparable to ours. 1

Our stay at Corre is disproportionate for so small a place,
a mere village of six hundred inhabitants, but it has a special
interest as the head of the navigable Saone, and Mr. Pennell
it delighted with its picturesque character. He has been
working incessantly ever since we arrived, and would content-
edly remain longer. One could be quite happy in such a
place for the whole summer with a colour-box. I have left
mine at home as an act of self-denial, and am contenting
myself with occasional sketching with a lead pencil on grey
paper, leaving Mr. Pennell to work for illustration.

The houses in Corre are almost entirely modern, a few
traces of fifteenth-century architecture still remaining, but this
modern picturesque is not to be disdained. Almost all the
buildings are sketchable and a succession of them is sure to
be varied by projecting masses, ample recesses, fine gloomy
arches and picturesque doorways. In the doors themselves
the boards arc often arranged in a sort of herring-bone pattern

This opinion of the Pilot's value was fully confirmed afterwards. The Patron,
on his part, remained an excellent domestic to the end, but he was nothing more.

.'SSL. ^s ; •

A Summer Voyage. 5 1

that has a good effect, and the stone lintels are often tastefully
chamfered.

Fifty years ago Corre must have been one of the most
remarkable places in France for the quantity of Roman
remains that could be found lying about, but these have for
the most part been taken possession of by collectors. At one
time the villagers of Corre appear to have been almost like
children playing in a lapidary museum. Cows might be seen
drinking out of a sarcophagus, the adjoint used a torso of Apollo
for a garden seat, and the washerwomen by the Coney laid
their linen on an antique bas-relief. Even now, the owner
of the pretty park where the nightingales sing has Roman
sculpture for its ornaments. In the course of our walks we
find fragments of Roman work in the most unexpected posi-
tions. You see a stone close to a house-wall ; it attracts your
attention by its form, and on a nearer approach you perceive
that it has a vase-like swelling, and is adorned with festoons
that were carved when men talked Latin at Didattium. 1

LETTER XVI.

Ormoy, Jtine \ith.

Yesterday morning, just after our soup, a little sandy-haired
boy came to the Boussemroum, and boldly offered himself as
an additional servant to drive the donkey. He wore a brownish

1 It is believed that Corre is the site of the Roman town of Didattium. This is
usually placed high on the river Arar (Saone), and the great quantity of Roman
remains found at Corre have led to the conclusion that it is on the very site of the
ancient town. This is the more probable that towns have often been placed exactly
at the confluence of streams.

E 2

The Saone.

jacket, nearly in rags, old blue cotton trousers worn very thin,
and a cheap straw hat with the broad brim turned up on one
side only, in the manner adopted this summer by the most
fashionable young ladies. The Pilot was very kind to him,
and asked him some questions in a very gentle tone of voice.
I, too, questioned him, and found that, if his account was
true, he was the orphan son of a quarryman who had been
killed in an accident, that his mother was a very poor hard-
working woman, and that he himself had been in a place at

fjb. _i#J»>

Ur >< .-,;..

'-- " *jk \

Franki and Zouloii.

an inn, but that he had left his situation, and was now seeking
another. He offered his services for his food and five francs
a month.

The lad had a very honest face, an open countenance
wonderfully Scotch in character, such as you meet with about
the Clyde, and a straightforward manner that pleased me, so
I said that if his story were confirmed he should have a berth
on the Boussemroum. We first went to the inn where he
had been servant, and the people said he was perfectly trust-

A Summer Voyage.

worthy, but had been somewhat disobedient at times. This
disobedience turned out to be nothing graver than failure to
do everything when he was over-worked, and sleepiness at
three or four o'clock in the morning. The lad's mother lived
at Jonvelle, so I sent him there to ask for her permission (he
being a minor) and for a good-conduct certificate from the

Ormoy in the distance.

mayor. We waited for him at Corre till afternoon, and as
he did not appear, I gave orders to start without him, leaving
word with the lock-keeper that the boy might join us lower
down at Ormoy.

However, when we were in the lock, and the boat was rapidly
descending to the lower level, behold the boy and his mother

r , The Saone.

both running along the canal bank, and she began bargaining
with me for thirty francs a month instead of five. The bargain
was concluded whilst the Boussemroum issued from the lock
into the river. I promised the thirty francs, as the Pilot
said it was nothing unusual for a donkey-boy.

In real life there is often that strange mixture of the
humorous with the pathetic, that we find in the works of
the best humourists. The scene that now followed was of
this double character. As soon as the boat got to the
opposite bank the lad and his mother joined us on the
towing-path, and she began the tragic tale of her husband's
death, which naturally made her burst into tears. Then she
gave an account of her present hard struggle with poverty
and asked me to advance her seven francs. I gave her ten,
as a rounder sum, and then she wept again for gladness at
the sight of so much utterly unexpected wealth. She had
scarcely dried her eyes on her apron, when the tears flowed
a third time in the greatest abundance, on account of the
imminent separation from her boy. She was looking forward,
in fact, to a very long separation, for the Patron had promised
to take the lad on as his own donkey-boy if he did well during
the trip. I fancy the poor creature had cried so much since
her husband's death that the fountain of tears was ever ready
to overflow.

Meanwhile it was only too easy to see that the lad, Antoine
Franki, was overjoyed at having got a berth so much to his
taste. He said good-bye to his mother, but his real interest
was in the donkey, Zoulou, standing already harnessed on the
towing-path with the rope fastened to the Boussemroum. On
the word to start being given, Franki cracked his whip in a

A Summer Voyage. 55

most masterly style, and sharply touched Zoulou, who im-
mediately launched out dangerously with both heels. This
delighted Franki, who turned to us a joyous face, illuminated
with a broad grin that exhibited one of the whitest sets of
teeth in France.

It was the old story, the mother tenderly sorrowful and
anxious, the son eager to see the world, and make his own
way in it.

A moment more and the Boussemroum had begun her long
descent of the Saone, going down with the stream, whilst the
figure of the mother was lost to view as she resumed her weary
way back to Jonvelle, saddened by her boy's departure, 1 yet
possibly a little happier for the ten francs.

" This," said Mr. Pennell, " is clearly a case of slave-dealing,
the difference being that you would never, in the Southern
States, have got such a boy for so little money." I ventured
to suggest that there might be another difference in the
willingness of the slave.

Before Franki had done his first mile it became evident to all
of us that he was master of his work. He had the most com-
plete self-confidence, and there was an artistry in his donkey-
driving that can only be acquired in youth.

The Pilot looked at me with an air of satisfaction, and uttered
the French equivalent of " He'll do." The Captain admired the
boy's skill with a beaming smile. As for me, who had just
promised his mother that I would be like a father to him, I
felt anxious, for every time the whip touched Zoulou he kicked
so high and kicked so straight that a hit seemed inevitable, but

1 She had a special reason for more than ordinary grief, which the reader will learn
in due time, and which I was ignorant of at the date of this letter.

56 The Sao ne.

Franki always stepped aside in time, and looked at us and
grinned.

I ought perhaps to explain that Zoulou is by no means a
vulgar donkey. He is a handsome, finely-bred animal, quite
as intelligent as a clever horse, and both well fed and carefully
groomed. His master, though niggardly in other matters, buys
the best of hay and corn for Zoulou, and pets him with crusts
of bread, besides giving him every opportunity to graze. Zoulou
is as observant as a dog. His house has two openings, looking
towards bows and stern, and whenever we pass through a lock,
or meet other boats, or stop at a village, in a word, whenever
there is anything to be seen, Zoulou first opens one door and
looks out of it, and when he has exhausted all that is to be seen
on that side he does the same on the other. No doubt he has
acquired much local knowledge about the canals of Central
France, 1 and I am positively certain of this, that he sees the
river to be something very different from those canals and is
aware that this kind of travelling is an exceptional experience
for him.

I wish the Boussemroum did her part as well as Zoulou and
Franki do theirs, but unfortunately the Boussemroum, with so
light a load as the encampment, will not answer to the helm
when there is a side wind. In a laden berrichon the ffreat fiat
side acts as a keel in the water, in a light berrichon it acts as a
sail in the air with no keel to resist it. The latter is our present
case. There are more than three hundred square feet of oaken

The reader may think that this is mere facetiousness, but it is not. Both the pilot
and the patron agreed that the horses and asses employed in inland navigation give
clear proofs of local observation and strong topographic memory. How could they
remember if they did not observe ?

A Slimmer Voyage. 57

wall out of water, and the saloon makes about eighty more
above the wall, the Captain's tent about twenty. Besides this
we have the permanent donkey-house and the cabin.

To steer well in the river with a wind the Boussetnroum would
require thirty tons of ballast, and I have no room to stow it.
The alternative is twin keels, but these would be costly for a
single voyage, and I could not get them before reaching Chalon.
Leeboards would be applied with great difficulty, and would be
objectionable on other grounds. To establish an efficient centre-
board with its great water-tight case would cost more than the
Boussemroum is worth, and, in fact, on account of her great
length, two centre-boards would be required. They would also
spoil the interior accommodation.

You may think it strange that as an amateur boat-builder I
did not foresee these difficulties. Not having any experience of
berrichons, I trusted to professional opinion. A great barge-
builder said that a berrichon would steer better, when towed,
than my sailing-boat. Now, my sailing-boat, which has a
centre-board, steers admirably when towed.

There was nothing in the Patron's experience (limited to
canals) to make him apprehend this difficulty. Indeed, as
soon as we got out of the river into the canal that passes
Ormoy, the Boussemroum behaved agreeably, and Zoulou drew
her with ease. The canal banks protected her from the side
winds.

The Pilot, more accustomed to rivers, had foreseen the
possibility of bad steering, and had deepened the rudders (there
are twin rudders) at Corre, but the boards he added produced
no appreciable effect, and were very soon carried away on the
stones.

eS The Sao tic.

The defective steering will spoil the expedition in this sense,
that we shall be very much at the mercy of the wind. In calm
weather the Bousscmroum can be steered, even on the river,
but with a side wind this will always be difficult, and some-
times impossible. We shall then have to wait for a change of
weather.

Yesterday we had a severe experience. The wind was strong
and unfavourable. It did not stop us altogether, but it con-
tinually drove the boat on a lee shore, and the Pilot had to
keep her off with a pole. She struck the stony bank at least
once a minute, on the average, with a shock that made writing
and drawing alike impossible. This manner of voyaging
combines the extremity of slowness with the extremity of
discomfort.

We all admired the magnificent energy of the Pilot, who stood
on the forecastle deck, put the end of the pole against his
breast, seized the gunwale of the boat with both hands, and
bore the shock every time by sheer fortitude. He repeated
frequently, " C'est l'orage, e'est Forage qui fait ca." On the
Saone the word " orage " has not its usual French sense ; it
simply means the wind, any wind, even a light breeze.

Now, you have had quite enough about navigation, and I
want to say something about the river. It makes a grand
sweeping course between Corre and Ormoy, passing at the foot
of a steep height richly-wooded, and the country opposite is
hilly, with a well-placed village called Ranzevelle. The river
itself is much wider than above Corre, though not comparable
to the Lower Saone. The banks are stony, and rich in aquatic
vegetation. It is essentially a painter's river here, with well-
coloured foregrounds and beautiful blue distances.

A Summer Voyage.

Below Ranzevelle the Saone makes another curve and is

rapid and no longer navigable. To avoid this part there is a

*
canal which we entered. We moored for the night on this canal

close to the village of Ormoy. This is unquestionably one of

the most picturesque little places in France, and quite unspoiled.

Ormoy from the Canal.

Finely situated on a small rocky eminence, with the church in
the middle of a great open square, it offers endless material
for a sketcher. On the rocky side, near the river, you have
rude stairs and fine bits of building adapting themselves to
the irregular ground — as good material, Mr. Pennell declared,

The Saone.

as any he had seen in Italy, and quite Italian in character.
But the glory of Ormoy is its fine open Place, with the wonder-
ful variety of the houses that surround it, their grand roofs,
their shady arches, and here and there a bit of architectural
ornament, especially one gateway with rude, bold, effective
carving. We were delighted with the public fountain, a great

!fro

. >

**»i

*~»u^-ti k #M. - IBS. ■-■. T JtW ^. "^*- ? i4U

' ^«ft 15

Ormoy, the Public Fountain.

circular basin with a lofty stone vase in the middle and in the
vase a tree. Then there was such a fine variety of cool and
warm colour all about this Place, that it was a torture to draw
in black and white only, there were such oppositions of un-
expected hues, such depths of sombre browns or purples, such
rich reds, such choice and delicate greys ! We were so

A Summer Voyage.

enthusiastic about the beauty of Ormoy that the inhabitants
came out of their houses and smiled, though not malevolently,
at our strange unaccountable ways.

Close to the canal there is a second public fountain or well
near the washing place, but it is forbidden to wash in it and
the water is as transparent as air. This being near to the
Boussemroum was a great boon to us, and we took a supply
of it.

^M^v--

-»:?">

A House in Ormoy.

Opposite Ormoy, beyond the Saone, is Richecourt, now a
great farm hamlet with the remains of a castle on the side of
a steep wooded hill. Richecourt is one of the most picturesque
and most beautifully situated castles on the Saone. One or
two of the towers still remain and are most finely placed,
whilst the other buildings are massive and grand, and
compose well.

The Sad ne.

It is our custom to take a walk every evening after dinner.
Yesterday we followed a path through the fields that goes

■w-

-'■ i

Richecourt from Ormoy.

Richecourt.

to the banks of the Saone opposite the woods of Richecourt.
It was a delightful evening, the twilight passing into moon-

A Summer Voyage.

light and casting a mysterious glamour over the grey towers,
the dark forest, the broad rich meadows, the murmuring,
untamed river.

There is a poetical quality in the names of places due to
sound and association, often to mere sound only. The sound
of many names in this part of France is, to my ear, very

fc--*

■

■. ■... ' ■

A Country Hottse near Ranzevelle.

melodious. Just above Richecourt, on the height, is the village
of Ranzevelle. To my ear, Ranzevelle is in itself almost a
little poem. Ormoy is a beautiful name too, I think, and
so is Richecourt. A great number of villages not very far
from the Upper Saone end with the syllable " court," and
many of these names are euphonious and romantic, names to
which a man of genius would easily hang a tale. 1

1 " Court," in composition, means a " domaine rural," according to Littre. In
Normandy it means the ground and plantations round a farm-house, and immediately

64 The Saonc.

LETTER XVII.

Below Jussey, June 13///.

After leaving Ormoy on the 12th, we made our way down
the river and canal pleasantly to the suspension bridge at
Cendrecourt. There being but little wind, and much of the
distance lying between canal banks, the donkey served us well.
It appears evident now that Zoulou will be useful under
favourable circumstances. The uncertainty about getting on
gives an additional interest to the voyage. It is quite im-
possible to foretell what will be the length of the day's journey.
I notice with pleasure that the lad Franki is very active and
efficient, knowing his work thoroughly and proud of doing it
in style. This is especially evident when we come to places
where the towing-path changes from one bank to the other,
and a rather complicated manoeuvre has to be gone through.

As the sun was very hot just above Cendrecourt, I arranged
myself in a suit of clean summer clothes, and set off with the
captain on foot to see the little town of Jussey, which is nearly
two miles from the river. We were caught in a deluge of rain
which gave me a miserable appearance, the more unsuitable that
I was going to call upon a banker, however, it was not to

belonging to it. The name would therefore, in its origin, belong to one farm or
chateau, and afterwards, when other habitations gathered round the first, the name
would be retained for the entire hamlet or village. I have made a catalogue of
more than sixty villages within a limited distance of the Upper Saone which have the
termination court. Littre derives it from the low Latin curds, from the Latin cohors
or cars, and from the Greek x<Ws, which has the same radical as the Latin hortus
and the German gartcn.

A Summer Voyage.

nesrociate a loan. The banker was not at home but I found his
partner, and we had a conversation of great interest to us, as we
voyagers on the Boussemroitni have been severed from news ever
since we quitted Gray. We now learned the fate of Mr.
Gladstone's Irish measures. It was like meeting a ship at sea,
and asking for the latest news.

This gentleman also told us about some local events of

A Street

at Cendrecourt.

interest. There had been a hail-storm at Jussey a few days
before which had cost the little town and neighbourhood no less
than 40,000/ in damage done to surrounding crops. This is a
terribly heavy tax on so small a place. It would be thought
a hard impost during a war. Jussey has about 3,000 urban
inhabitants.

There is a flat plain between Jussey and the Saone but a

The Saone.

steep hill or cotcau rises just behind the town. I wish there
were a good special English word for coteait, which is much more
exactly descriptive than the general term " hill." Our word
"bank," which comes nearest, gives the motion of something
much smaller, like the bank of a river. A coteau is a high bank,
generally with a table-land above. Seen from below, it very
frequently presents the appearance of a real hill.

Jussey, at present, is a rather picturesque little town, remark-
able chiefly for its delightfully abundant supply of pure spring

Cendrecourt

from the Fields.

water in public and private fountains. The Amance, a tributary
of the Saone, passes by Jussey. In the times of the Spanish
domination (Franche Comte was a possession of Spain in the
sixteenth century) the place was well fortified with a strong
castle and ramparts, but these have entirely disappeared.

The banker we were to have seen, and whom I did not
know personally, had driven to his garden near the Saone and
we had met him on the road without being aware of it. The
same thing happened on our return, so we missed each other a

A Summer Voyage.

6 7

second time. On arriving at the Boiissemroum I learned that an
artist who lived part of the year at Corre (M. Dagnan-Bouveret)
had sent a messenger on horseback after us to invite us to his
studio on the banks of the Saone below Ormoy, but we are rather
pressed for time on account of our slow locomotion, and we
cannot well go back, even for a few miles.

During our visit to Jussey, Mr. Pennell made sketches in the

mm i

' Hw if a i

% >

A Barn at Cendrecourt.

village of Cendrecourt on the opposite bank of the Saone, and
he missed Jussey, but of the two Cendrecourt is the more
picturesque, being especially remarkable for its fine roofs.
These delighted Mr. Pennell, and he was also greatly pleased
with the remarkable unity of character in Cendrecourt. The
people there were very civil to him, inviting him to take shelter
in their houses during the rain.

F 2

68 The Saoiic.

On pursuing our way, we had exactly the kind of weather
that suits Zoulou and the Boussemroum. The water was with-
out a ripple, and even the upper air was perfectly still. To the
east, a range of cumuli rose like Alps of a warm golden white,
and there was a fine terrestrial distance in that direction.

The joiner at Corre has established a quarter-deck for me on
the Boussemroum, in front of the donkey's house. This is
extremely convenient as we can all three sit upon this deck on
camp stools under an awning, and look before us with no other
impediment than the narrow peak of the Captain's tent which
hides very little of the scenery. Mr. Pennell's tent is much
lower and does not impede the view in the least. Nothing can
be more agreeable, when the boat is going tolerably well, than to
sit in this way and quietly enjoy the scenery. It reminds me of
sitting in a canoe, but the much greater height above the water
gives a far better command of the shores.

We moored for the night at a beautiful place beyond Jussey
where there are fine rocks, coming down to the water, crowned
by a wood of the utmost richness with masses of abundant over-
hanging foliage of a very noble character. Here we passed a
ferry and I was pleased by an ingenious contrivance for making
the tow-ropes of passing barges go clear over the ferry-boat and
its apparatus. Long tapering wands, rather like fishing-rods, are
planted in the ground, leaning at a certain angle and in apparent
disorder but really with exact calculation. The tow-rope
catches the first, and you think it must either break or stop the
boat. It does neither, it bends and passes the rope on to
another which repeats the motion. In this way, amongst them,
they carry the rope clean over the ferry boat and other obstacles,
and the driver takes no thought.

A Summer Voyage.

We slept at this place close to the towing path, which is
contrary to the rule of the river, but we wanted to sketch there.
Many boats passed early in the morning, and, if the bargemen
had been angry at us, they would have been excusable, but the
Pilot went a few yards to meet them, and simply said that we
desired to be on that side to make a sketch. The answer he
received was always civil, and generally to the effect that the
hindrance was of no consequence as the boat could easily pass
The passing, however, cost the bargemen considerable trouble

Ferry near Jussey.

especially when they were ascending the stream, but they bore
it with charming good humour, and we generally had a little
talk about our respective destinations, whilst the horses were
loosened and the rope was passed over the complicated peaks
and gables of the Boussemroum} The real good-breeding of

1 If the expedition had to be done over again, one of my first cares would be to
establish a curved ridge of wood, starting at the stem and passing to the stern in the
shape of a bent bow, clearing all the obstacles presented by the tents and the boat.
This would enable a rope to glide over them mechanically. All the stationary boats
for washerwomen are provided with some contrivance of this kind.

j The Sadne.

the bargee class on this river was a constant wonder to Mr.
Pennell and even to myself, who might be supposed to know
them better, but as my other voyages had been usually in a
sailing boat they had not brought me so much in contact with
the river population. In our present voyage we belong to that
population ourselves, the Bousscmroum having admitted us into
the confraternity ; the people rather like us for living on board
our boat, which awakens their sympathies but causes them no
wonder. I was surprised at first that such an odd-looking affair
as the Boussemroum, with the encampment upon it, did not excite
ridicule, but the river people are accustomed to seeing rude
huts and tents on barges, or at least cloths which they call
tendues (only another form of the word tente, in Italian
Undo), so that my arrangements seem to them perfectly
rational.

The largest class of boat on the Saone is called a peniche,
and is not at all like the undecked, two-masted boats which
go by that name at Cherbourg and other places on the sea-side.
A river penidie is a barge of great size, and its tonnage may
be anywhere between a hundred and fifty, and three hundred
and twenty tons. The prow and the stern rise rather high with
a handsome curve, the rudder is about the size of a barn door,
and is often hinged that it may be easily reduced in length
whilst passing through locks. In many of these boats there
is a commodious stable for the horses, and there are good
cabins for the " Patron " and his family. These cabins are
finished and kept up with a certain amount of luxury. The
windows often have little persienne shutters (like Venetian
blinds) and curtains of white lace or embroidered muslin.
The framework of the windows is painted white, with perhaps

A Summer Voyage. j\

a red or green line round it, and little flower-pots on the sill.
A sign that there are children on board is a little deck before
the cabin for them to play upon, inclosed by a railing to prevent
them from falling overboard. I made the acquaintance of a
mother on one of these boats by lifting her child ashore for
her. The child in question was a nice little girl, six or seven
years old, very neatly dressed, and perfectly clean. The mother
seemed to be of about the same class as a shop-keeper of rather
good standing in a provincial French town. She spoke per-
fectly good French without either patois or vulgarisms, and
told me the history of her voyage. They had come from
Belgium and were going to Lyons, a distance of a thousand
kilometres. As the canals are closed in August for cleaning
it was necessary to hurry in order to get back again before
the closing, and their boat had come from Belgium to Corre
in a fortnight with constant relays of horses night and day.
I was shown all over this pcniche. The cargo, being of iron
rails, occupied little space, and was, in fact, mere ballast, so the
immense interior served for various domestic purposes like the
courtyard of a house, and one part of it was converted into
a large dining-room. There was a very well-finished cabin
amidships, and another at the stern end. A large peniche of this
kind exactly fits the gates of the locks. These vessels have
often a big mast that can be easily lowered, being hung in
a tabernacle and balanced with heavy weights at its foot.
When the wind is favourable they display a huge lug-sail,
which takes them along speedily with a good breeze. At such
times the horses are taken on board, and become passengers
like our friend Zoulou behind the steam-tug.

The colour of these boats, which are only tarred, resembles

TJie Satmc.

nothing so much as an old brown violin. In sunshine the
transparence of the colour produces the effect of a rich glaze
in a picture, and becomes indescribably luminous ivitliiii, the oak
showing through the glaze, especially in new boats. The
sail is often of a pale green, having probably been steeped
in sulphate of copper to preserve it from mildew.

Wood

near

Jusscy.

Visiting the stable on one of these boats, I took upon myself
to plead for more care about stuffing the collars, which often
gall the horses and produce raws. One man said in answer,
" You will never find a raw, sir, on any horse in my care ; see,
these two are the pair I attend to." On examining them I ad-
mitted that their skins were perfectly sound. My companion,

A Summer Voyage. 73

the Captain, cannot endure to see anything like maltreatment
of animals, and, gentle as his manners usually are, they become
quite fierce when he sees any wrong done to the brute creation.
One day on a canal bank a man was belabouring an unfortunate
horse that he had harnessed before another, and the Captain
who was walking there at the time, stopped and exclaimed,
with a look of concentrated anger and contempt, " Don't you
see that you are an imbecile ? That horse is new to the work,
and yet you put him first. Remove him from where he is, put
him behind, and he will do well enough. There is no necessity
to beat him." Such is the force of a superior will that,
although the boatman was in a furious rage, and had never
seen the Captain before, he obeyed without a word, and the
horse did his work unresistingly.

LETTER XVIII.

On a Canal near Chemilly,
June 14//2.

The Pilot, like the Captain of the steam-tug, has decidedly
a fancy for making us sleep in canals. We have moored for
the night in this short canal that cuts off a loop of the river.
The Pilot moored the fore-part of the boat to a tree, first
carefully surrounding the bark with hay to prevent chafing.
I admire his carefulness. It was interesting to compare the
Patron's slight and inadequate way of doing the same
thing when fastening the stern rope to another tree. It made
the Pilot shrug his shoulders and put on his contemptuous

74 The Saone.

look, an expression of countenance in which he is excelled
by no man.

This is the exact spot where the Patron was left behind
as we ascended the river. There is no danger of his being
left behind at our present rate of speed ! It is, alas, but too
easy to overtake poor Zoulou when he is towing the Bous-
semroum. Without that considerable drag upon his motions
he is lively enough to lead one a merry chase.

You may remember that my last letter brought us down
to a rocky place below Jussey, where I said that the foliage
was very fine. The passing of several barges at that place
led me into a digression about the floating population.

Soon after leaving the rocky place, the windings of the
river, which is very serpentine about here, brought us to a
sort of tableland, from which there are most extensive views
over blue distances, interrupted by nearer green hills. Here
we distinctly realised the fact that we were on elevated
ground as we looked down into the lower country far away,
and it was a peculiar sensation to be floating on a
navigable river at a height where, in my previous experience,
I had usually found swiftly-descending streams. These distant
views were seen in the utmost perfection under a rainy sky
in gleams of sunshine between showers. Nothing was to be
done for the illustration of such scenery with the means
at our disposal. A consummately skilful painter in water-
colours might have expressed, at least, the spirit of it. I
contented myself with exploring the distances with a binocular,
and seeing forest, plain, and distant villages, now in purple
gloom under the raincloud, now gleaming with fresh greens in
the sunshine, and never for one instant without change.

A Summer Voyage.

We passed the village of Montureux-les-Baulay, which differs
frbm most of these villages in being quite close to the river-
side, extending itself in length. This place is not so exclusively
a peasants' village as Cendrecourt, for example, neither has
it the fine character of Cendrecourt. There is a comfortable
maison bourgeoise with lawn and garden near the church and
close to the waterside, as we find such houses on the Thames.

of the

Upper Sadne.

A deep lock here brought us to a much lower level, depriving
us of distant views, but the near scenery was a compensation.
Nothing could exceed the fine reedy vegetation of the river
banks, and the water-worn forms of the banks themselves were
good. On the right the shore was high and steep, and crowned
with a straggling village called Fouchecourt, that reminded

7 6

The Sadne.

us of Diirer's villages, large quaint roofs and high gables
crowning the upper ground, and descending amidst firs,
poplars, and ash-trees down to the level of the river. This
delighted Mr. Pennell, but he was still more pleased with
Baulay, a village on the left, at some distance from the shore,
in gently sloping fields. This village, with its church tower
and high red roofs, is a complete unity in itself without a single
discordant element, so that the sketcher has little to arrange,
and absolutely nothing to reject. The colour, as we saw

Fouchecourt '.

it, was all of the most delightful russets and greys between the
green fields and the rainy sky. Mr. Pennell, when he sees a
village of this kind, can hardly be taken past it without cruelty,
he always wishes to stay there as we stayed at Corre, but we
are not advancing quickly towards the south, so I cannot
always indulge him. Besides, without colour a village like
Baulay loses half its significance. The real beauty of it is
in the perfect harmony of all its elements.

At Conflandey we descended another deep lock, and were
therefore approaching more nearly to the level of the Saone

A Summer Voyage. yy

at Gray. Conflandey is at the junction of the Saone with the
Lanterne, one of its most important tributaries, indeed, so
important that it is almost equal in volume of water to the
Saone itself. The name " Lanterne " is. a corruption of lantenne,
from the Latin lanteuna. The dark, swiftly-flowing waters of
this river were much purer than those of the Saone when we
saw them, the Saone holding much earthy matter in suspension
which made it opaque and of a reddish-yellow colour. The
village of Conflandey takes its name from the confluence, but
I am unable to trace the formation of the word Conflandey
exactly. There are analogous names in France, such as
Conflans, for example.

Conflandey is situated on the right bank of the Saone
opposite a long, curving, beautifully wooded island that re-
minded me strongly of the finest islands on the Thames. The
village is on a rising bank, and is beautifully completed by
its church on the highest point. The houses come close to the
water's edge and, without exception, are perfect of their kind.
Here, as at Baulay, the beauty of the place does not depend on
any antique tumble-down buildings, it is the buildings of to-day
that are good, being picturesque and habitable at the same time.
A village of this quality, so quietly harmonious and unpretend-
ing, would be entirely spoilt by a single showy villa. Near the
water the houses have little gardens with rugged walls completing
the natural rock, and palings on the top of the walls. The day
after our arrival the weather was perfectly calm, and the reflection
omitted none of these picturesque details.

Some years ago Conflandey ran a risk of being entirely spoilt
by the establishment of a great paper-mill, but the mill has
fortunately been erected on the left shore of the Saone, where it

The Sadne.

is hidden by the wooded island. The owner or director of this
concern lives in a good house on the island with gardens and
grounds, and his communication with the mill is secured by a
suspension bridge. As the island is taken possession of in this
way by a rich man it is preserved from further injury. The
variety of the trees is evidence of careful planting. They
include Scotch fir, poplar, alder, horse-chestnut, willow, and

Conjlandev, tlie Village.

sycamore, and the edge of the island is enriched with beautiful
aquatic plants. I never saw trees bend more gracefully than on
this island, or in more beautiful masses over the water.

The Pilot is always a little fussy (the defect of his qualities),
so, as I had expressed some curiosity about the paper-mill, he
went to it and came back as if with a message from the owner,
saying that he would be happy to show us over it. We went

A Summer V T oyage.

accordingly, and were told to apply to the owner at his house,
the Pilot having gone beyond his authority. On this I ordered
him to set the Boussemroum in motion (if it can be called
motion) for Port-sur-Saone.

Between Confiandey and Port-sur-Saone the character of the
river scenery is perfect of its kind, and not spoiled by anything,

My.

^vT

Con/landey, the Towing Path.

unless it be a long cutting made for the towing-path, which lays
the red rock bare on the side of a steep and lofty wooded shore.
Poor Zoulou seemed diminished to the size of a rat under these
precipices, but he held along bravely, and as the weather, for the
moment, was calm, our prospects seemed encouraging. There
was a delightful half-hour when the course of the river brought
us clear of the hill, and the more open scenery in the direction of

So The Sao ne.

Port-sur-Saone lay before us, but then came a strong gusty wind
that drove the Boussemroum ashore, and, worse still, impelled
her sideways with such speed that Zoulou could hardly keep up
with her, and was in constant danger of being dragged into the
water and drowned. Meanwhile, the unfortunate but devoted
Pilot was constantly receiving thrusts from his pole in the breast,
equivalent, at least, to those from a blunt lance in the tourna-
ments of old times, and in this way he succeeded for a while in
keeping the stem of the boat a yard or two from the shore. At
last, however, we struck with great force, and at the same time
the bottom of the boat was caught on a large stone. This, with
the great power of the wind on her exposed side, almost suc-
ceeded in upsetting her, and clearly convinced me of the
possibility of a capsize under properly favourable circumstances. 1
I dare say you have experienced what I have often felt when
things were going wrong, a sort of wicked desire that they
should go as wrong as possible, so that the powers of evil,
instead of troubling us with mere taquineries, might give us
something serious to complain of. I do honestly confess that
there was a moment when I wanted the Boussemroum to capsize.
The thing had plagued us by abortive attempts at capsizing, and
there would have been something colossal in the upsetting of a
canoe of eighty tons burden. Mr. Pennell sat on the quarter-
deck making the most disparaging reflections on our yacht. The
Patron, at the stern, popped up his head at every bump, and
flew into a fresh passion, as if such collisions were quite new to
his experience. As for the Pilot he had not much time to talk,

1 A berrichon only seems stable because it is very heavy and big, and the weight of
a man in one part or other of it makes very little difference. A fly probably believes
that the crankest of canoes has stability. So it has, relatively to the fly.

A Summer Voyage. 81

on account of the groans occasioned by the fearful thrusts of
the blunt lance, but whenever an opportunity occurred he
repeated the same formula of words, " C'est l'orage qui fait
ca, c'est l'orage ! " 1

As we got nearer Port-sur-Saone we were more accustomed to
the incessant shocks against the stones and managed to admire
the beautiful grey rocks and green sward on the steep shore, all
in bright sunshine or broad shadow.

Port-sur-Saone is a little town of two thousand inhabitants,
beautifully situated at the foot of a steep wooded hill. There is
an island in the river here larger than that at Conflandey, but
not so beautifully wooded, and a long old bridge goes over to the

Port-sitv-Saone.

mainland. Mr. Pennell made a remark here about the rarity of
old bridges on the Saone. The truth is that the frequent wars
of which the Franche Comte has been the theatre have led to
the destruction of bridges, and the scientific work of the modern
engineers has replaced others, besides creating many bridges
where there were only ferry-boats in old times.

1 The word " orage," on the banks of the Saone, has not its usual French meaning,
as I noticed in Letter XVI. In ordinary French it means a storm, generally a
thunderstorm, but on the Saone it means the south wind, and by extension any wind,
even a light breeze. Our Pilot called the faintest breezes "l'orage," which produces
the oddest effect till one is accustomed to it. The English reader may realise this by
supposing that in some part of England faint breezes were always called thunderstorms
by the inhabitants.

77/i? Saone.

There is a fine Renaissance church at Port-sur-Saone, of simple
but serious and dignified architecture, that rather surprises one
in so small a place. It was much more like a minor church in a
great city. The body of it is stately and plain, the east end rich
with a moderate display of gilding on dark panels. An interior
of this kind must produce a strong effect on country people who
are not accustomed to see dignified architecture.

\^c^j£*^i

s...™. — ^~g f.«T'SiiJHK_

Porlsur-SaSne —
/A<- £z7//< Bridge,

■

Although there are few visible remains of antiquity in this
little town at the present day, it is one of the oldest in France,
and the scene of the martyrdom of St. Vallier.

We made the acquaintance of a tall pilot at this place who
was soon very friendly, in fact, we had become acquainted on
the ascending voyage. These pilots are physically picked men

A Summer ]~oyage. 8

by natural selection, as their work requires great strength. Our
new friend was perhaps not quite so powerful a man as our
own Pilot, but he was a fine specimen of well-preserved activity
in mature life. He had mighty hands and a lively, vigilant
eye ; he was muscular, without an ounce of superfluous flesh ;
altogether one of the finest men I have met with upon the
Saone.

In striking contrast to this noble-looking pilot was a podgy
cantankerous little man, who came to the boat attracted by
curiosity, and presently began to scold young Franki as he sat
peeling potatoes in front of the cabin during the absence of the
others. I was writing at the time in the saloon, and came out
to see what this scolding creature was, but being immediately
convinced that the fellow was drunk, I retired after merely
telling Franki to take no notice. So Franki went on quietly
peeling his potatoes and smiling at the other's noise. This
incident would not be worth mentioning were it not that the
drunken man said, " There's money that's honestly earned, and
there's money that's earned in other ways. I would not earn
money as you do by serving foreigners who make plans." This
is the only expression of the spy mania that I have yet observed
in the country. It may possibly create some inconvenience if
the man goes on talking and induces people to believe him.

We quitted Port-sur-Saone in the golden glow of a splendid
evening. The weather being now perfectly calm the Boussemroum
kept off the shore and took us down to Chemilly, through
beautiful reaches of the winding river, which is here broad
enough to be majestic. The shores here are richly wooded, there
being a great forest on the right bank and a large communal
wood on the left. To the south was an open hilly distance, so

G 2

The Sadne.

that under this charming effect the whole made a succession of
the richest landscapes with fine, broad masses of shade and the
most harmonious glowing colour. Mr. Pennell and I both
enjoyed this deeply as we sat at ease on the quarter-deck, but
we agreed that it was beyond the possibilities of any linear
drawing, and Mr. Pennell thought that the tranquil, majestic
beauty of such a scene was even beyond the art of painting

it* x f
-

Port-sur-Saone—

the Channel between
the Islands.

itself. It cannot be realized in paint, but Claude, Wilson, and
Turner have all conveyed the impression of richness and tran-
quillity that charmed us. A broad winding river, richly wooded
shores rising to gentle eminences, distant hills of a tender grey,
approaching, but not too nearly, to a pale azure, a sky all full of
heaven's own calm and light, and everywhere Nature's sweetest
summer rest— these are the elements of a scene too perfect for
description, but so impressive that even the rude boatmen were

A Summer Voyage.

touched by it and stood quite silent in their places, the only
sound being the occasional swish of the tow-rope after being
caught an instant in the glassy surface, or Franki's cheerful cry
of encouragement to Zoulou. At length we heard the sound of
falling waters, the river became a lake, terminated by a great
weir, and after falling in a cascade, it flowed away in a noble

> ... asx?

^*^ 5 *v-»tNiL 7^ Bonssemroum in the

Canal at Chcmilly.

curve by islets and shallows to the old castle of Chemilly. Here,
of course, as at all the curves that are not navigable, a canal
opened its gates to the Boussemroum, and shortly after, we were
moored to the shore beneath a brightening moon.

Nothing can exceed the tranquillity of an evening spent in
such a place as this. The shore of the canal is like a lawn :

86 The Sadne.

it has been freshly mown, and the hay is in little heaps. The
thin, delicate young trees stand in their peaceful order, whilst
beyond them the untamed river flows in its old channel as it
has flowed for a thousand years, and the murmur of it comes
to us without ceasing, here in our protected rest.

To my taste there is nothing in our present voyage more
charming than the hours when the Boussemroum is moored
for the night. Even in the worst weather we enjoy the
evenings in the saloon, when the Captain sits in state in the
one arm-chair we possess, but on fine evenings we enjoy a
sauntering walk, without any definite object. This evening
was especially delightful with the clear bright moonlight and
the absolute calm. The Boussemroum lay quite alone in the
canal, motionless on the motionless water, as quiet a home
as the most solitary cottage in the midst of its silent fields.

LETTER XIX.

In a Canal Basin, near Scey-sur-Saone,
June i6t/i.

Early in the morning we went to see the village and
chateau of Chemilly. At this place the shore of the river
is steep, high, and well-wooded. Then it slopes down sud-
denly to the river Durgeon, which falls into the Saone at this
place, and the village is situated by the confluence, on a steep
road, the castle being partly on the height with some towers
down by the river.

A Summer Voyage.

The little bridge over the Durgeon has quite a superior
air with its statue of a good bishop on the bridge, not a
mere doll, but a piece of respectable eighteenth-century
work. It is wonderful how immediately a piece of sculp-
ture of the slightest artistic merit ennobles and refines the
things about it. Here is this little two-arched bridge, for

The Bridge at Chcmilly.

example, made distinguished amongst bridges by the pos-
session of its statue, and the whole village gains ^dignity
from it.

The river Durgeon, Drugeon, or Dregeon, passes by Vesoul,
which is here less than seven miles from the Saone as the
crow flies. Vesoul is the capital of the department, and a

The Saoiic.

place of some interest, but in the present voyage we confine
ourselves to the shores of the Saone itself which afford us
ample occupation.

The castle of Chcmilly is inhabited. The square and massive

The River Purgeon at Chemilly,

donjon tower stands high on its rock in the midst of what
is now a beautiful garden, and the tower itself is the chief
part of the modern dwelling. It has been modernised, and is
now surmounted by a sort of dome, perfectly incongruous

A Summer Voyage. 89

yet, strange to say, by no means ineffective at a distance,
where it crowns the composition with some nobility. Such
of the other towers as still remain are but little injured, the
most interesting of all being a small tourelle low down on the
river shore which is in a wonderfully perfect state of preserva-
tion. It is of pale grey hewn stones, most carefully finished and
fitted, and round the moulding that supports the projecting
part of the wall there is a band of delicate sculpture that one
discovers only on coming near. It was quite a surprise to
find such a finished piece of work as this tourelle on the banks
of the Saone, where the old military architecture is generally
rude, and especially to find it so close to the water's edge,
where it must have been exposed to every flood.

Much of this beautiful castle was destroyed at or about
the Revolution. The charm of what remains is enhanced by
the garden with its quaint mixture of order and irregularity.
Just before the donjon there is a terrace, from which you look
down a sheer precipice upon the roofs of the towers below,
and whence you have one of the finest river views in France.
The wild Saone, here quite unspoiled by engineers, and navig-
able only in a small boat, comes w r ith a magnificent curve,
washing reedy islets in its course. Far in the distance you
have villages with their towers and, fold behind fold, the
endless forest-covered hills.

On the height behind the donjon there is a convent, now
unoccupied, except that the chapel of it is used as the village
church, and the villagers come up to service here, through
the beautiful grounds of the castle.

The singular charm of this village of Chemilly is appre-
ciated by the people of Vesoul, who come here in excursion

The Sao tie.

parties, and feast in leafy bowers at the meeting of the
waters.

The weather had been fair during the morning, but on
leaving the canal we found ourselves in a deluge of rain.
Zoulou and Franki held their way bravely with empty sacks
on their backs. The Pilot got wet through, whilst I was

■'"' <»HR*

"<fNr Ty". ."-V"

From the Terrace, Chemilfy,

sitting well-sheltered in the saloon, hard at work upon a
chapter of Imagination in Landscape Painting. The readers
of our books know little of the strange circumstances in which
some parts of them are written. I have never worked more
comfortably than on board the Boussemroum, even when the
rain was clattering most noisily upon the canvas.

A Summer Voyage. 91

After a mile or two of natural river, we discovered a water-
gate on the opposite shore. Whenever you see a water-gate
you must enter it, as its existence is a proof that the river is
not navigable far beyond. Zoulou had to be conveyed across in
a ferry-boat, which the Pilot called for in a voice of thunder :
but there was only a woman at the ferry, and as the rain
was still pouring heavily, she preferred to be somewhat deaf.
At length, however, Zoulou was taken across, and we shortly
found ourselves on a magnificent canal. This canal is the
finest hitherto seen in the descending voyage. It is broad
and straight, between banks green as English lawns down
to the water's edge, and on the top of the bank there is
a stately avenue of poplars, four ranks of them on each side
and all of magnificent growth. Beyond this on the left side
rises a steep forest-covered hill. The impression produced by
a canal of this kind is not at all that of a merely utilitarian
work, such, for example, as that between Liverpool and Leeds.
Here one's impression is that of being admitted into some
royal demesne on artificial waters intended for state and
pleasure. Mr. Pennell expressed our feelings exactly when
he said that the rude Boussemroum, quite in her place on
the natural river, was unworthy to float on these canals where
the only suitable craft would be a boat of the most finished
beaut)' and elegance. I said it ought to be a gilded barge,
with a glass saloon, or at the least, a gondola.

We had excellent evidence, in this canal, of the utility of
an ordnance map. I never travel without these maps, and
have extracted from them a complete atlas of the Saone.
Our Pilot, like all his brethren, is full of confidence in his
own knowledge, which is derived from ocular observation and

9 2

The Saonc.

memory, and never refreshed by a reference to any document
in the intervals of his voyages. Midway through this canal
is a large basin, and the Pilot was leaving this behind, when
I suddenly came out of my cabin and ordered him to turn

■ V

Canal between Scey

and Chcmilly.

back and moor the Boussemroum in the basin itself, and on
its eastern shore. The Pilot defended himself by affirming
that he was going to Scey. I said he was going away from
that place (which was quite invisible from the water) and cut
short all discussion by a peremptory command. When the

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A Summer Voyage. 93

boat was moored, I said : " You see we are close to a road.
It goes straight to Scey, which is one kilometre from here."
The Pilot went upon the road, and saw the little town straight
before him. This impressed him with a fresh respect for
the ordnance map. I would willingly make a tracing of the
whole river for him, but he could not read the names. 1

Zoulou was set as usual to graze after the Boussemroum was
moored for the night, but being in a more than usually frolic-
some temper he escaped to the woods, and Franki was despatched
after him. After dinner the lad sent me, by the Patron (not
venturing to enter the saloon himself) a bouquet of wild straw -
berries that he had found time to gather for me during his chase
of Zoulou. He had heard me say to the Captain that the weak
point of our feeding was the absence of dessert, and that we got
neither strawberries nor cherries in the villages. I was pleased
with his attention, and charged the Patron to thank him, when,
glancing at the open door, I spied the donor of the strawberries
in person, watching the effect of his present with that broad
grin which, with him, expresses all the shades of satisfaction.

This basin is the most beautiful place in which the Boussem-
roum has hitherto been moored for the night. It measures about
200 metres by 1 50, and is surrounded by towering trees. Its
surface is adorned with the yellow water-lily. We had it all to
ourselves, except that two men were repairing a small boat on
the bank. After dinner, the evening being fine with splendid
moonlight, we walked on the road that goes to Besancon and

1 Even a good reader may be unable to use a map, from the lack of the topographic
sense There are many comparatively educated people for whom a map has no
distinct meaning. During the Franco-German War an officer in the Garibaldian
army told me that many of his brother officers were quite unable to make any practical
use of maps.

The SaSne.

winds up through the wood. Mr. Pennell observed in what
perfection this road was kept, the impression being rather that
it was a drive in some English nobleman's park than a public
way through a forest.

The next morning I made the discovery that the skin of
Franki's feet had been rubbed off in many places by his hard
boots, which he wore without socks, so I took him to Scey and
made him a present of shoes and socks in return for his straw-
berries. The poor lad has a most beggarly appearance, yet in
spite of this everybody at Scey treated him with almost parental
kindness. The shoemaker's wife behaved like a mother to him,
and helped me by wise counsel in the selection of socks. The
lad asked for a trifle out of his wages, and this he immediately
invested in fishing-tackle, so he will have an amusement for his
leisure hours. 1

At Scey I found the Captain seated in a goodly dwelling and
talking to the lady of the house, who was a very handsome, fine
looking person, as if he had known her for twenty years. The
Captain's manners, always gentle except when he is reprimand-
ing a man for mistreating some wretched animal, become imbued

1 The shoes remind me of a little difficulty I experienced before Franki joined the
expedition. The Patron is not precisely my servant, but only a boatman who has
voluntarily taken upon himself the office of cook. The Pilot is not my servant
either, but simply a river pilot engaged to manage the Boussemroum I therefore
felt some delicacy about ordering them to clean shoes. I had a large supply on board
(Mr. Pennell called them my "regiment") and by managing carefully I contrived to
make them last till we got to Corre. Meanwhile the Captain appeared every morning
with hoots of unsurpassable blackness and gloss. I asked if he had persuaded either
of the men to give them this beautiful appearance. "No," he replied with a merry
twinkle in his eyes ; " I am not unable to clean boots myself, and as I have plenty of
time on my hands it gives me ;i little occupation." When Franki joined the ex-
pedition I found he was ignorant of this art, so I placed him under the Captain as a

Blip- m life - ■ 4fl 3W ff s - J ' H - c ' . '*

1 ^fci- ^f^****^

jsil

,£f&

^ JjftMiJ , t £

/? House in Scey.

A Summer Voyage. 95

with I know not what grace and deference when he is speaking
to a woman, and it does not take him more than a quarter of an
hour to be treated as an old acquaintance. I began to tease the
Captain a little on this subject, when he extolled the strong
sense of the lady he had just left. French people have a
wonderful facility for passing in conversation from the lightest
trifles to matters of the gravest import, and for talking about the
serious things quite seriously after laughing over the trifles a
minute before. I should not have been in the least surprised
if the Captain and his new friend had held a dialogue on the
immortality of the soul ; however, when I discovered them they
were only comparing the Apostles with modern priests, to the
disadvantage of the latter.

The position of Scey is one of the most beautiful in France.
Here the Saone, as at Chemilly, makes a great curve, during
which it is not navigable. Close to Scey are some well-wooded
islands, not too large, and there is a slanting weir above the
islands, down which the water rushes tumultuously. Above this
weir and close to the water's edge is a picturesque house with a
turret, and a quantity of rich foreground material, such as a
garden wall with quaint stone ornaments, and, nearer still, a sort
of Constablesque confusion of reeds, willows, palings, and boats.

pupil. No painter except Knaus could have done justice to the perfect subject that
one of these lessons presented. They were given in the interior of the Captain's tent,
in itself not a common-place interior. The master gave his instructions with a
becoming dignity and gravity, whilst Franki, most anxious to learn, was kneeling
and watching him with rapt attention. The consequence was that the lad became
an excellent shoe-black, and all my "regiment" shone wonderfully. I was much
amused one day when standing on a quay in a town to feel something about my feet,
and, on looking down, to discover the lad Franki, who had perceived that my
boots were a little dusty, and unbidden had fetched his apparatus from the
Boussemroum.

g6 TJic Saone.

Beyond this house are two or three fine distances, rich in various
kinds of dark and light trees, and then a remote distance with
a lofty mount. All this is as you look up the river. In the
other direction is a fine well-wooded park with a stately
gate in the main street of the little town itself. This
park stretches away to the hills, and on the first rise of ground
at their feet one may discern the stabling of a country seat,
which belongs to the Duke of Beauffremont. We did not
observe anything noteworthy in the little town itself, except a
fantastic building with a turret, all evidently modern, but

decorated with fragments of old carved stone and strange w r ater-
worn natural stones put together indiscriminately. At some
distance the thing looks as if it would be interesting, but on a
nearer approach one discovers the cheat with vexation.

LETTER XX.

On a Canal near Ovanches,
June iytA.

On leaving Scey we were soon on the river again, but only
for a very short time. Brief as it was, in all our voyage we had
not a more exquisite hour. The time was late afternoon, with
golden sunshine, the scenery a reach or two of calm river,
reflecting shores all beautiful with rock and tree and the
freshest verdure. It is one of the advantages of this rainy
summer that the shores of the Saone are as green as if it
flowed through the west of Ireland.'

A Summer Voyage.

An impressive contrast awaited us when we had to turn
aside from this golden sunshine, these cheerful pictures of
cattle grazing- in happy pastures under beautiful groups of
trees, or merry peasants passing in the ferry-boat — an impressive
contrast awaited us when we came to the gloomy portals of
a tunnel. We came upon it suddenly as we turned aside
from the pleasant river and saw close before us the grim

entrance, with its severe monumental architecture, its sad-
looking firs and pines standing on each side, silent on the
green sward, all dark in the shadow of the hill. There was
nothing to help us through the dark vault but the very
slowest of all imaginable streams, produced artificially by a
partial opening of the water-gates beyond. By an almost
imperceptible motion this stream took us into the darkness,
and then, for our encouragement, it tranquilly sent us back

g8 The Saone.

aeain. After what seemed an interminable delay, the stream
slowly drew us a second time under the vault, and then, as
if to make us forget our lugubrious surroundings, the Patron
cheerfully announced dinner. The saloon was lighted, the
blind drawn, and we tried to make-believe that we were dining
exactly as usual. It is impossible, however, to forget one's
surroundings, and for my part I find tunnels depressing to the
imagination. It was clear to me that the bargemen felt the
same oppressive influence. One of them, on the boat that led
the train, began to fight against it by singing in a powerful and
very musical voice. His song was a monotonous ballad that seemed
to have no end, but it certainly helped to pass over our forty
minutes of funereal gloom. ' This ballad being at last concluded,
the singer gave us the magnificent Chant du Depart, with
admirable power and feeling. Most men would hesitate about
following so fine a voice, but the Patron was restrained by no
such feeling of prudence. The last note of the Chant du Depart
had hardly died away when the Patron jumped upon the little
platform before his cabin and announced in a loud voice that he
was about to favour us with a ballad entitled Corsican Vengeance.
It was a sanguinary history, sung to an air of the most
lugubrious character, and with a voice that for tone and tune
resembled the raven much more nearly than the nightingale.
This completed our wretchedness, and we felt it as a deliverance
when Franki, in joyful accents, announced that we should very
soon be out. Daylight became visible once more, and our one
musical dinner was over. Music is a luxury, no doubt, but one
glimmer of daylight, as you emerge from the bowels of the
earth, is more cheering than all the powers of song.

We afterwards passed the boat that had led the train in the

A Summer Voyage. 99

tunnel and I paid the singer a merited compliment, on which he
modestly replied that he could sing better than a horse, but that
the horse could tow a boat better than he could. From the
extreme promptness with which this answer was given I have
reason to believe that it is kept in readiness for such occasions.
I commend this plan to authors who receive sudden compliments
about their books, than which nothing is more embarrassing.
"Your last work was so delightful, you write so very charm-
ingly." Answer kept ready : " I write better than a solan goose,
but he employs his quills for loftier flights than mine."

After this tunnel the canal sweeps round a long majestic
curve between fine stone quays, and above these is a steep
slope on each side of well-kept grass, planted with fir-trees.
Emerging from this cutting, which is more like English
" grounds " than anything else, the canal goes in a straight line
to the lock, and the country is open on both sides. This canal
is a short cut across a large peninsula, where the Saone makes a
curve of six miles. In this peninsula are two or three villages
and one of them is Ovanches.

During our ascending voyage we had walked to Ovanches in
the evening and had been enchanted. The mellow light after
sunset, the mysterious twilight slowly increasing, gave an in-
describable charm to our exploration. Everything in the place
seemed part of one beautifully coherent rural poem. It was a
Sunday evening, and the people were seated in groups about
their doors. We noticed especially one group of women, com-
posed like a picture, their sun-browned handsome faces enlivened
by their talk. I asked them some trivial question, and they
received me with such easy politeness that we thought the place
must be a little centre of civilisation. And all the buildings

H 2

IOO

The Sao>ii\

around us were so picturesque! The houses were delightfully
various, a few of them had turrets and balconies, or loggie, and
projecting roofs. The oppositions of advancing and retiring
masses, of light and dark spaces, of warm and cooler colour,
were all that an artist could desire. Besides this picturesque
material, there were two edifices of greater severity, the public

Ovanches — the Cross.

washing-place and the church. The washing-place had evidently
been designed by an educated architect ; it was a little classical
edifice, carefully and regularly composed, with its columns
mirrored in its own oblong basin, dark masses alternating with
the golden glow of the reflected evening sky. The church, a
grey and simple edifice, stood near, occupying with perfect

A Summer Voyage.

101

dignity the finest site in the village. Everything was as it ought
to be in such a place, and there was not a discordant note.

We decided that, on the return voyage, we would both work
at least for a whole day at Ovanches, so after a night's rest on
the canal Mr. Pennell rose betimes in the morning and went
there to his work. I was too much occupied with writing to
quit my study on the Boussemroum.

About eight o'clock Mr. Pennell re-appeared with an expression
of the blankest disappointment on his face. " What has

A House
at Ovanches.

happened?" I inquired. "Ovanches is nothing," he answered ;
" there is positively nothing at Ovanches ! "

I had done well not to return to it, and so to preserve for life
the Ovanches of enchantment in my memory. Still, although
the effect was gone, the tangible material must have remained,
the quaint houses with their loggie, their external stairs, their
little turrets, their clambering vines. The classical washing-
place and the church must be there yet, and the village must still
be as beautifully situated as ever on the gently curving land that
descends from the hill to the river.

102 The Sao ne.

The reasons for Mr. Pennell's disappointment were, first, the
difference between an excessively poetical effect and a most
prosaic one; and, secondly, the invaluable freshness of eye that
he brought from London to Ovanches, as he had not seen a
village of that quality before. Subsequent hard work at Corre,
Ormoy, and Cendrecourt, had habituated him to the peculiar
quality of these villages.

I have mentioned this incident at length as it is striking
evidence of the importance of freshness in impressions and of
the power of effect upon the mind. The immediate conse-
quence of it, for me, was that I declined to return to Rupt
this morning, having walked there last evening in the twilight.
You shall have my first and only impression of Rupt in
my next letter. Meanwhile I may observe that the natives
do not pronounce the name like the second syllable of bank-
rupt, but like the French word rue, yet more curtly. Vibrate
the r well, pronounce the u clearly, but cut it off short and
sharp, even as a woodman chops off a twig. On no account
may you introduce a dying English cadence after your u for the
sake of a softer effect.

LETTER XXI.

Opposite Ray,

June iSth.

As usual, we are moored in a canal. The length of this one
is about a mile and three-quarters, and it differs from the others
in being bordered with a much greater variety of trees. It
has Scotch firs, besides other kinds of fir, ash, poplar, &c. The

Rupt, Ike Church.

A Summer Voyage. 103

banks are rather high, in two terraces, one for the towing-path
the other for the trees.

This gave an excellent opportunity for observing the difference
of effect between monotony and variety in trees. At Scey the
magnificent canal avenue was all of one species — poplar — at Ray
it is of many kinds. The answer, as to effect, is easy. The
monotonous avenue far excels the other in power and solemnity
of effect, but the varied one is pieasanter to stay in. The trees
in a private park ought to be as varied as possible near the
house, and monotonous in one or two more remote places, to be
visited in more serious moods.

In my last letter I promised some account of Rupt. This is
a village of 440 inhabitants on the right bank of the Saone (but
not close to the water), at a place where the river becomes
navigable again after its course about the peninsula of Ovanches.
There is a castle on a precipitous height, of which the principal
remnant is a great, tall, round tower, of admirable masonry in a
fine state of preservation. 1 Ciose to this, nestling, as it were,
under the shadow of it, is the modern dwelling, a commodious
but ordinary house. The top of the hill is entirely occupied by
a considerable park and other domains, surrounded by a wall,
and the owner has farms in the plain. The owner is a widow
lady with four sons and four daughters, so the estate is destined
to a minute division.

During our evening walk in this village, we had been much
struck by the strange effect of seeing the place for the first
time in twilight, not a golden twilight as when we visited the
enchanted Ovanches, but a grey twilight that was only a
mitigated darkness. This caused us to see all things in masses,
1 There is a tradition in the village that the tower once had a roof as tall as itself.

io4

The Sadne.

and the chief open place of the village seemed really grand,
with its church high en the hill on one side, and the castle

Rupt — the Round Tower.

tower lording it on the other. There were a few tourelles,
especially those of a whitened old house with an enormous

A Summer Voyage. 105

well-trained hedge in front of it, a grave-looking, orderly,
old-fashioned place, exactly suited for aristocratic old maids.
To our great surprise we discovered two fountains, one with
a bronze figure of Abundance, the other with a good bronze
lion, and we immediately concluded that they must be gifts
from the great lady at the castle, but next day the Captain
ascertained that the village municipality had ordered and
paid for the bronzes. Few villages are so artistic in their
tastes !

In a minor degree, Rupt in daylight disappointed Mr.
Pennell as Ovanches had done, especially with regard to one
view, that of the great Place. Here, in the evening, the
houses were half seen, and only the fine general arrangement
was appreciated, with the Place rapidly narrowing to a steep
street leading up to the church, reminding one of Gustave
Dore's mediaeval street scenes. When, however, Mr. Pennell
revisited Rupt in the morning, he found that view less im-
pressive, as it had lost its mystery, but it was all the better
adapted for pen-drawing.

The weather seems dreadfully cold at present. I say it
seems cold because the thermometer hardly gets below fifty
in my cabin, but we began our voyage in overpowering heat,
and the transition is hard to bear. I am wearing a winter
overcoat and other warm clothing that I brought in case of
a change of temperature. The Captain wears his tricot,
which is a knitted over-shirt fitting like a coat of mail, and
the Pilot has one too. It is always a good rule in boat-
travelling to have warm things, whatever the season of the
year. They are easily laid aside in the heat, and even in
the French climate there is not a da)- in the year when you

io6 The Sadne.

are sure that it will not be cold. Mr. Pennell compares our
present weather to that of an English May, he might almost
have said an English March without the winds. It rains
almost as in the Highlands of Scotland. Everything on
the Boussemroum is clamp, the tents have no time to
dry. As we have no fireplaces in our habitations we are
fain to warm ourselves at the galley fire, and I have
begun to administer hot grog in the evenings, which is much
appreciated.

Erom Rupt we came on to Ray, passing Soing, which is
comparatively without interest. There is a canal here cutting
off a loop of the river, and after this canal the Sadne is
beautiful again, with green shores, rich woods, and pretty
villages. Charentenay, to the left, is the ideal of a modern
village, not romantic or picturesque, but clean-looking, with
its little church and pleasant houses in the midst of trees
and greenery.

Here we entered the long, straight canal opposite Ray,
evidently a loss to our voyage in this sense, that we missed
one of the most beautiful of the great curves on the Saone,
though the canal itself is remarkable. I had thought of
bringing my canoe with me simply for amusement, and now
regret not to have done so for a more serious reason. It
would have been easy, with a canoe, to explore these great
curves of the Saone.

Ray is the most romantic of all the villages passed in the
course of our voyage. An old castle of considerable extent,
and still inhabited by the Duke of Marmier, crowns a steep
height with its towers, and below is the old church and the
village in which there is hardly a house that is not pic-

A Summer Voyage.

107

turesque, whilst the whole composes admirably with the beau-
tiful river, and the hilly distance. The Saone here is rapid
and flows in irregular channels past several islands. We
had to cross it from the canal which is on a much higher
level. The lock-keeper has a son only nine years old, cer-
tainly the most active boy of that age I ever saw out of a
circus. He ferries you over between the islands in a heavy
boat across a strong current. Bare-headed, bare-legged, with

The Saone,
near Ray

nothing on him but a light blue blouse and trousers, he came
to the Boussemroum and offered his services in the kitchen,
lying full-length on a plank, and peering over into the galley.
Finding that Franki could shell the peas without assistance,
the lad turned head over heels as a convenient way of removing
himself, and then began gyrating like a wheel on the canal
bank. The next thing he did was to hop along the very
edge of the lock, one of the deepest locks I ever beheld,
which looks a frightful gulf when it is empty, and then he

i oS*

The Saone.

crossed the narrow plank on the lock gate. I took a great
interest in this boy on account of his extraordinary liveliness,
and inquired if he had learnt to swim. No, he had never
been taught. This made me speak seriously to his father.

Lock on the Rav Canal.

■ Here you have a boy," I said, " who is hopping about and
turning somersaults on the side of a canal with a deep lock,
and you neglect to teach him to swim. Can you swim your-
self?' 'Yes, sir, I swim very well," the father answered,
unwilling to sacrifice his own aquatic reputation. Before I

A Slimmer Voyage.

109

left, he promised positively that he would teach the lad
this summer. 1

There is an extensive pasture of short lawn-like grass that
occupies the plain before the village, and would be a fine
cricket-ground if the French appreciated that game. It would
also be a delightful exercise ground for galloping horses.
There are several of these fine plains on the banks of the
Saone, some of them wonderfully extensive, as we shall see,

3^^fc^C5?^vi^^

.!•■■ .-■■•.J-'** ?\i :' iSfef/ W

in the course of the voyage. At Ray, the plain has a
picturesque value by its contrast with the castled steep.

Ray is a little place that still entirely preserves the aristocratic
cachet. The chateau and the church are everything at Ray. In
the church are found the dignified seats of the reigning family
(I mean in this little dukedom), with elaborately carved coats-

1 On the Lower Saone all the boys swim at an early age, and some of the girls
learn too. There is an annual death-rate from drowning, but more from imprudence
than inability, and there would be fewer rescues if the knowledge of swimming were
less general.

1 1 o The Sadne.

of-arms, and there is more mediaeval sculpture, including a
wonderful scene of the Entombment, with a crowd of figures
three feet high, all standing on the church floor. What is
chiefly interesting in these old country churches is the almost
invariably picturesque character of the chancel. It is seldom
correct, seldom in architectural harmony with the rest, but
quite as rarely dull or bare. At Ray the woodwork of the
chancel is all of renaissance carving, not without delicacy and
taste. Then you have the romanesque and early ogival arches,
whilst externally the incongruity of the chancel is repeated
by a tower of the last century, not at all offensive in the
distance.

The Captain, who as you know is the provider of the expedi-
tion, tells me that he can hardly procure anything at Ray.
Whatever there is goes to the chateau. The commissariat
would be a serious difficulty in these parts if we did not change
quickly from place to place. The Boussemroum, uniting the
produce of many villages, is better supplied than any village
separately. The Captain purchases what he can, and what is
unprocurable at one place is absurdly cheap at another. All
along the Upper Saone we could not purchase a strawberry ; at
Scey we got excellent strawberries at the rate of nine great
platefuls for three-pence. Here, at Ray, we are promised some
beef for to-morrow, but the condemned ox is even now wander-
ing in his native fields, unconscious of his doom.

I notice, in this village, that the tradesmen have pictorial signs
explaining their occupation to the illiterate. Over the baker's shop
is a painted representation of loaves of bread, the joiner's workshop
is indicated by portraits of his tools, the smith's by painted
horse-shoes. A single pictorial genius may have originated

A Summer Voyage.

TTI

these and other signs of the same kind 3 scattered throughout the
village. The graphic arts, as we see, may sometimes excel
literature in practical utility. I observe that there is no more
proportion between the painted objects, as to scale, than there is
in heraldry ; in fact, these paintings are a sort of heraldry.

The impression produced by Ray is that of a social position
now belonging to the closed pages of French history. The great
house rules over everything from its lordly height, the church is
the refuge of the arts, and the people humbly lead a narrow

The River Bank

near Ray.

life under the shadow of church and castle. It is happily and
curiously in harmony with this entirely unspoilt relic of the past
that the engineering works for the Saone navigation have been
executed at a respectful distance, and have left it safe with the
river flowing past it in the old neglected way. Some modern
river improvement, some quay made only too perfectly, would
have been the destruction of Ray. The canal is well hidden by
its own trees.

U2 The S aone.

LETTER XXII.

Between Beaujeux and Rigny,
June 19th.

We quitted Ray yesterday afternoon. We are now in a
nameless place nearly equi-distant from Beaujeux and Rigny,
and the reason for our being here is simply because we have no
choice. Do you know what being colle (glued) means in French
nautical language ? It means what the unlucky Boussemroum is
at the present moment.

To be colle when you are in a boat is to be pushed sideways
by wind or water so as to be fixed by pressure against some
obstacle and kept there in such a way that all the forces at your
disposal are insufficient to release you. A canoeist is a?/// when
the stream carries him sideways against boulders in a current,
and he cannot obtain deliverance on account of its steady, un-
relenting pressure. With an ark the size of the Boussemroum,
more than eighty feet long, it is rather a serious matter to be
glued. We are so most completely just at present. The Pilot,
though he got us off at another place, has just come to me and
announced that we are hopelessly fixed till there is a change of
wind. Add to this that the weather is that of a wild March day
and you may imagine the pleasures of our situation.

There are, however, certain compensations. We have pro-
visions on board that may last till the wind changes, and both
Mr. Pennell and I can occupy ourselves with our work. As for
the Captain and Franki, they have taken to their fishing, so
we have nothing to do but consider the Boussemroum a house on
land for the present, and renounce all ideas of locomotion

A Summer Voyage. 1 1 3

Such a state of things is highly favourable to writing. I know
that the boat cannot stir, so at least it will not bump against the
stones, that is one satisfaction ; moreover, the Pilot will not be
coming for sailing orders. The menu of our dinner is settled,
we are to eat what we have on board, and may be thankful that
the larder is not altogether empty.

The Captain takes these incidents most philosophically.
Even a complete stoppage in the worst of weather is unable to
disturb his serenity. Mr. Pennell is not quite so patient ; he is
young and energetic, and an American, and has not yet accepted
the consolatory doctrine of middle age that the enforced halts
of life are Nature's own havens of tranquillity. Franki is patient
for another reason. To have no work to do, and free permission
to fish for gudgeons, is perfect bliss for him.

We are fixed in a very odd position. The Boussemronm lies
just across the mouth of a currentless rivulet, and is fixed by
stem and stern to the banks on each side of a little bridge.
The wind is strong enough to keep her moored as effectually
as a pair of cables.

It may possibly have occurred to you to wonder where Franki
sleeps. By the merest chance I had brought with me a small
boat tent that was used last summer on my sailing boat, so this
has been set up under the quarter-deck in the space called " la
Cour Pennell," and Franki sleeps in it on plenty of dry straw.
In wet weather his tent is doubled by an external covering of
canvas, the lining of the saloon which has not been required.
Franki is perfectly comfortable, and very glad to have a little
place to himself instead of sleeping aft in the cabin with the
men. In the wildest weather there are no draughts in his tent.

Whenever there is a new-comer in a small community he is

1 1 4 The S aone.

likely to cause a division for and against himself. In the poop
cabin there is a party for Franki and a party against him. The
Pilot is Franki's strong friend and supporter, the Patron is
evidently inimical. It is one of the Patron's peculiarities never
to be able to remember where he has put things. Before
Franki's arrival there was nothing for him to do on these occa-
sions but grumble ; now the lad is always accused of having lost
the article, which is generally found soon afterwards in a situation
clearly revealing the Patron's own negligence and forgetfulness.
As it is simply impossible to stop the Patron's tongue, and I
cannot do without him till we get to Chalon, I have told Franki
to pay no attention to these attacks, and as Franki has healthy
nerves and a merry disposition he only laughs at them. Nothing
is more amusing than to witness the glee on Franki's face when
the Patron has accused him of losing something and it is
triumphantly found, to the old man's complete discomfiture.

After leaving the canal at Ray boats only enter the Saone to
leave it again at once by another canal of considerable length,
that takes them to Recologne, a small grey village of striking
beauty with some thatched roofs still remaining. The alternation
of river and canal, canal and river, has the charm of change and
variety, but, grand as the canals are, it is to me always a relief to
get into the natural river again, especially when there is an old
village on its banks of the quality of Recologne. The misery
of this voyage consists in leaving such places without staying a
week at each to sketch in water-colour.

The next time we left the river it was to enter the canal near
Savoyeux, one of the most magnificent in the voyage, with
avenues like those already sufficiently described at Scey. There
is a keeper on this canal, who lives in a house provided for him and

A Summer Voyage. 1 1 5

is called a " guard." There is no lock near him, but he is not far from
the entrance to the second tunnel. An incident occurred in con-
nection with this official. He asked me into his house, and told
me that he had received a telegram. " This," I thought, " must
be some bad news from home." To my relief the telegram
turned out to be only an official one, ordering the guard to make
inquiries as to our nationality. I answered these in writing, and
then we proceeded on our voyage, but the nature of the questions
shows that the authorities have their eye upon us, and it is not
impossible that we may be arrested at Gray. The guard's
manner to me was perfectly civil, and his questions were in
themselves quite reasonable, yet I thought he was rather grave,
like a man who perceives a situation to be more serious than it
appears. On reflection I connected this incident with the visit
of the tipsy man at Port-sur-Sadne, who reproached Franki
because he " worked for foreigners who made plans." Perhaps,
too, the appearance of the gendarmes at Corre, when I was
sketching the Saone, may not have been purely accidental.

This time we walked over the tunnel, which gained me time to
sketch the canal on the other side, pending the arrival of the
Boussemro7tm. Here it passes through a dense wood, the trees
nearest the canal forming an avenue of the stateliest character,
less formal than that to the north of the tunnel. This is one of
the grandest things we have seen on the voyage. When, after
long delay, the Boussemroum did at last emerge from the dark-
ness, I stopped her that we might sleep on the canal. The great
dense wood was filled with singing-birds, or at least with the
sound of their voices.

The canal opens upon a fine country, a little south of the
village of Mercey, which was the object of our evening walk.

I 2

n6 The Sao lie.

This village consists of a single, long, straight street, of great
width, with farm-houses and their farm-buildings on each side, an
odd contrast to the streets in great cities. At the end stands the
church, dominating over the whole, and the Captain made a
remark which is worth repeating. He said that the French habit
of congregating rural habitations in villages tends greatly to
maintain the power of the clergy, because the priest is far more
influential in the village, where the population is under his eye,
than he would be over the same population if it were scattered
on isolated farms. We noticed here the remarkable civility of
the people, who all said, " Bon soir, Messieurs," in a hearty
fashion as they lifted their hats and looked us straight in the
face. There was a frankness in their manner that pleased us
greatly, and I noticed that the Captain put more than his usual
heartiness into his replies.

On our walk back from Mercey to the canal we saw the finest
and most pictorial effect that has hitherto occurred in the voyage.
The trees in the great wood are extremely dense, in grand opaque
masses, but those on each side the canal, seen obliquely from the
opposite side of the Saone, appear to become gradually more
open, till the most advanced of them stand out separately.
There is, consequently, a gradual passage from the dense and
close to the open, which is always pleasing and has long been
known to artists. In the effect of the 18th of June this was
imitated in the sky, but in reverse, the clouds being dark and
dense opposite the dense trees and more open as they approached
the forest, till behind the open trees the sky was lightly clouded
and coloured like mother-of-pearl. There was consequently
every appearance of an intentional and most felicitous arrange-
ment of dark opposing masses and a gradual opening of both at

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5.*'," -f^i

A Summer Voyage. 117

a luminous centre, but more than this, the whole was reflected in
the river, which made the wonderful unity of the scene far more
strikingly manifest. It was one of those very rare occasions, far
rarer than is generally believed, when Nature herself turns artist
and makes a picture. I have only to add that the more open
trees were of indescribable beauty and elegance, and that the
colouring of the whole subject was as rich as the finest Titian or
Giorgione.

The region below Mercey has a peculiar beauty which made
us greatly desire to linger there, and sadly regret the necessity
for moving southwards. Here the Saone winds in great curves
between hilly shores, and the land is diversified by woods, each
of considerable extent and separated from its neighbours by fine
open spaces of brightly coloured fields. It was a cheerful land-
scape, and its cheerfulness was heightened by sunshine, delightful
after fog and cold.

At the ferry between Quitteur and Otay, where the towing-
path changes from one bank of the river to the other, and Zoulou
had to be taken across, we found a stout old ferryman, of
rubicund aspect, who was evidently a character. My acquaint-
ance with him lasted about ten minutes in all, and I did not get
nearer to him than shouting distance, yet he contrived to tell me
that he had great experience as a pilot both on the Saone and
the Rhone, and to offer me his services in case I had quelquecliose
de volumineux. In boating all our estimates depend upon
previous experience. For that old pilot the Boiissemroum was
merely ce petit berriclion Id, for me it was "voluminous" enough.

There is a village called Beaujeux about a mile away from the
left bank of the Saone. This attracted me by an old tower and
a church that promised to be beautiful, so we walked over to it.

1 1 8 The Saone.

Here was another proof of the utility of the ordnance map. It
had been suggested that we should go to this village from a
higher point, a very roundabout way, but the short cut across
the fields was marked on the map and we found it, a mere track-
about a foot wide. The village was a disappointment to Mr.
Pennell, because prosperity and repairs had nearly killed the
picturesque. The church, too, had been thoroughly and expen-
sively restored, and though the restoration was very clever and
learned, it inevitably made the building look new. This church
is an excellent specimen of romanesque architecture with
transition towards gothic. In the interior the general sobriety
of the style is relieved by the rich and various sculpture of the
capitals, and by the abundance of stained glass. The ceilings
are of oak, that of the nave being slightly stencilled, and those
of the aisles undecorated. The stairs leading to the organ loft
are peculiar, every step being on a corbel projecting from the
wall like the machicoulis in military architecture. The effect is
that of unnecessary heaviness. The stone spire of this church is
one of the best I know. It is simple, and rather sturdy than
elegant, yet very finely proportioned.

As we ascended the hill to the tower we met with an old
woman who told us that this tower was the last and smallest of
seven that had belonged to the old castle of Beaujeux. It is
now enclosed in the garden and vineyard of a modern house.
This garden pleased us by the irregularity of the ground and by
the great variety of the trees — fine walnuts, Scotch firs, epiceas,
ash, and other species. The views in every direction were most
extensive, including a distant view of Gray that rose pale from
the plain. The principal church of Gray being on an eminence
is visible from a great distance and crowns the place superbly.

A Summer Voyage.

119

There is a ferry at Prantigny below Beaujeux where the wire-
rope is stretched across the river, which alarmed us during
the ascending voyage. This rope gave us a second alarm in
descending, as the ferryman was extremely deliberate about
raising it, which he did by suspending himself on a long lever
inserted repeatedly in a winch. Meanwhile the Boussemroum

Ferry at

Prantigny

was carried forwards rather rapidly by the current and at one
minute an accident was not improbable. I have a peculiar
objection to seeing the safety of all my things dependent on the
quickness of a man unknown to me.

It was below Prantigny that the side-wind fixed us to the

120 The Saone.

shore, where we are now inhabiting a real immatble, like a house,
for the Bousscmroum can no more be stirred than a dwelling of
bricks and mortar. After our gipsy life a fixed residence ought
to be accepted as evidence of an advance towards a higher state
of civilization.

LETTER XXIII.

Gray, June 22nd.

My last letter left us fastened to the shore by a side-wind and
in a state of philosophical resignation. We spent the evening
in the saloon as usual, amidst a storm of wind and rain that
cheered the Captain and me with a pleasant sense of being
comfortably sheltered. But not even the storm could cheer our
younger companion, Mr. Pennell. He was at the same time too
polite to desert us and too much discouraged to be anything but
sad and silent. The unprogressiveness of the Boussemroum is a
trouble to him, and I wish we had a steam-engine in her for his
sake, though certainly not for mine. Of the two evils I prefer
stoppages to steam-engines.

To console Mr. Pennell I promised to make every effort to be
progressive in the morning, and kept my word in the rain
against a head-wind. The Boussemroum can be towed with the
wind in her teeth, though at a slow speed. Franki flung a sack
over his shoulders, and went bravely on with Zoulou, similarly
caparisoned.

Early in this dismal morning, before we started, we met with
the first instance of incivility from bargemen in the course of
the voyage. We had been stopped on the side of the towing-

A Summer Voyage. 121

path, and were therefore rather in the way of a great peniche
that descended the stream. The driver of the horses treated us
exactly as if we did not exist, and when our Pilot begged for a
moment's delay to get the rope over our saloon and masts we
heard contemptuous expressions from the passing barge about the
nature of our " machine." We learned afterwards that the same
bargeman who had been uncivil to us broke a ferry-rope at a
place lower down. No doubt he went straight on as when he
passed us, taking a bitter pleasure in not accommodating him-
self to the convenience of others.

We had dejeuner inside the deep lock at Rigny, where the
lock-keeper left us in peace. This arrangement was due to the
Pilot. He said we should be much quieter in the lock than on the
river, and the keeper consented, first letting us gently subside to
the lowest level, so that we could see nothing out of the window
but the huge, grim walls and gates. It was quiet enough
certainly, but the reverse of cheerful. However, I thanked the
men for their good intentions and pretended to be quite
pleased, though I never breakfasted in such a dismal place
before. The solemn tolling of a church bell at a little distance
made us feel as if we had been lowered into the grave.

Between the lock and Gray the Patron had one of his noisy
fits of ill-humour, because the Pilot had given him an order ; so
to put an end to these quarrels I told the Pilot that I placed
myself under his orders as common sailor, and that he would
find me both silent and obedient. This removed a difficulty, as
the Patron could not row, and it might now become frequently
necessary to put the Pilot ashore in the boat whilst the Boussem-
ronm was in motion. He soon asked me to do this, and I
obeyed with silent alacrity, but not without some effort, as our

122 The Saone.

boat is the most unwieldy thing I ever attempted to row, and I
had to overtake the Boussemroum with it afterwards, which
Zoulou was towing vigorously. However, I got alongside, and
clambered up into the berrichon. The Pilot was pleased with
this, as it makes him more independent of the Patron and his
temper.

I have not said much about the wonderful quarrels that are
constantly arising between these men, but as they always spring
up in the same way, a very short description may suffice. The
Pilot commands on the river, giving authoritative orders, on
which the Patron invariably flies into a furious passion, and
becomes voluble beyond all the powers of stenography to follow
him. I could not remember or invent the tenth part of what he
says on these occasions, but I can recollect every word of the
Pilot's answer. With a gesture of supremely scornful dignity,
he cries, " Attend to your soup, cuisinier, attend to your soup !
That's all you are fit for. You are of no other use on a boat."

The strangest thing in the conduct of these two men towards
each other is, that five minutes after their fiercest quarrels they
are civil and even amiable, rendering each other little services
with a graceful readiness, or asking for them politely. As the
Pilot is unable to read, the Patron kindly reads the newspaper to
him, or any letter. The Patron is very ready with his needle,
and I believe he does the Pilot's mending ; if not, he would be
quite willing to do it. In ordinary times the Pilot calls the other
" Papa " with an affectionate tone of voice.

In the new generation of French people there will be nobody
unable to read. Already there is a wonderful difference between
the men of the Pilot's time and their grown-up children. He
showed me a letter from his daughter that any young lady

A Summer Voyage. 123

might have written. It was in faultless French, and charmingly
graceful and tender in its filial affection. The great rough man
— rough only on the outside — is proud of his children, and
always speaks gently of his wife. He told me a story about her
which is worth preserving.

The Pilot had taken his wife and daughter on a pleasure trip
down the Saone and Rhone to Aries, on one of the common
barges, and as they came back, against the current of the
Rhone, they had to be towed by the wonderful grappling tug
that has a great wheel working on the bed of the river with
prodigious steel teeth. 1 At that time there was a dangerous
passage at the Pont St. Esprit, so the Pilot said to his wife and
daughter, " Now, whatever happens, you have only one thing to
do, which is to keep perfectly silent. Promise me that you will
not open your lips." They promised, and the Pilot went about his
work elsewhere. However, a minute later, one of the sailors cried
out, " II est mort ! " on which the Pilot's wife set up a piercing
shriek, and exclaimed, " Mon mari est mort, il est mort!" He
immediately re-appeared and said, " You promised to keep
silence, and you have not been silent more than a minute." The
explanation is that the word " dead " is a technical boating term
on the Rhone, meaning simply that the momentum of a boat
has expended itself.

The approach to Gray from the north is one of the best town
views on the Saone. Gray is finely situated on a hill rising
suddenly from flat meadows, and the principal church, which

1 This wheel is a marvellously audacious invention. Of course the bed of the
Rhone is very irregular, and the wheel has to rise and fall with all the differences of
level, and yet be kept in motion. It is the roughest work that steam has ever done
for the transport of merchandise.

124

The Sacme.

has a characteristic tower with a domed roof, is the finishing
ornament of the whole place. The ascent to this church is so
steep that the only direct road to it is by a series of stairs on
the hill-side. Quite on the top of the hill is one of the finest
promenades in France. The town is, to my taste, a delightful
little place, being clean and picturesque, at the same time with a
sufficiency of old remnants to give the priceless air of antiquity,
whilst the modern dwellings have an inviting aspect of prosperity
and order. A French monarch, I forget which, committed a

Gray from the North East.

pun in praise of this town when he said, "Je trouve Gray a
mon gre," and the place has long been surnamed Gray la
Coquette. It has important historical associations, and at the
close of the thirteenth century was the seat of a university. It
was the favourite residence of a royal lady, Jeanne deBourgogne,
when separated from her husband and during her widowhood.
Gray was much valued for military reasons by the Emperor
Charles the Fifth. In connection with the power of Charles the
Fifth on the left bank of the Saone it is interesting to note that

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A Summer Voyage.

125

a reminiscence of it has been preserved down to the present
day, from mere tradition, by the bargemen. They call the left
side of the river " Empire," and the right side " Royaume."
But of all the historical reminiscences connected with Gray
there is not one so fine as the courageous answer of the mayor,
Mongin, when Louis XIV. had entered the town in consequence
of a treacherous capitulation. The mayor had to perform the

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painful duty of giving up the* keys, but he found some con-
solation in saying boldly to the magnificent king, " Sire, votre
conquete serait plus glorieuse si elle vous eut ete dispute."

It requires an effort to bear in mind how very recent is the
final establishment of French authority in the Franche-Comte.
Even so late as the year 1688 the French abandoned Gray
again, and demolished its fortifications. Sometimes, to tease
Frenchmen a little in a friendly way, I tell them that the Saone

126

The Saone

is both the natural and the historical frontier of France, but I
observe that, like all other peoples, they are warm advocates for
natural frontiers when they imply an extension of territory,
whilst they obstinately object to them when they imply the
slightest diminution.

One consequence of the past Spanish domination is that the

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Courtyard at Gray

villages and small towns in this region have rather a foreign
aspect even at the present day. Mr. Pennell noticed this from the
first, and said he hardly felt himself in France. He sketched
one or two courtyards in Gray which have a very Spanish
character. Such villages as Ormoy and Ovanches remind one
sometimes of Spain and sometimes of Italy.

I have very kind friends at Gray who had received us hospit-

A Summer Voyage. 127

ably on our ascending voyage, so I conceived the audacious
notion of inviting them to a state dinner on board the Bonssem-
roum ! The Captain's house-keeping abilities and Mr. Pennell's
taste were brought into requisition. It was thought at first that
we ought to give the dinner simply with the resources of the
Boussemroum, that is, with our own service and our own cook.
To order anything from a restaurant seemed a sad confession
of inadequacy. It was decided, finally, that the Patron should do
the cooking, except the roast and a pate, and that we should get
knives and forks from the restaurateur, as our own forks were
but of tinned iron. Half the art of giving a festal appearance
to a place consists simply in having plenty of light and flowers,
so I employed a tinner to make ten sconces for the walls of the
saloon, which, as the tin was quite new, had very brilliant
reflectors, and the Captain went to a gardener, who gave him a
vast quantity of flowers for a very little money. The saloon
was put in order, with the table in the middle and my military
chest of drawers for a side-board, and the two tents were neatly
arranged as salons de reception. To spare our guests the incon-
venience of walking along the edge of the Boussemroum two
bridges connected the vessel with the shore. It had been
intended at one time to illuminate its exterior with Chinese
lanterns, but as this would have attracted public attention the
idea was abandoned.

Our guests were but three in number, my friend and his wife,
and the director of the Bank of France. When they arrived,
the tents were not lighted, but left in twilight and without
flowers, so that the transition to the brilliantly lighted saloon
should produce its full effect. This effect may, perhaps, have
been excelled by the Royal Yacht Club, on state occasions,

128 The Saone.

but assuredly neither the Boussemroum nor any other berrichon

had ever been the theatre of such a brilliant scene before. Mr

Penncll had adorned every sconce with roses, and placed flowers,

with infinite art, in all the most conspicuous positions. The

oddity of our surroundings made the lights seem brighter and

the dinner better, and the hours passed quickly and merrily. In

addition to his serious labours in decoration, Mr. Pennell, at my

request, had kindly toiled during the afternoon in the production

of menus, each with an original design on the back of the card.

Mine represented Franki with Zoulou kicking viciously, the

others were recollections of the Saone. Of the three bottles of

good Burgundy which were put on board at starting, two were

consumed on this great occasion. The Patron received high

compliments for his cookery which were but in part deserved, as

the roast was erroneously attributed to him. 1

The church at Gray is one of those which charm the traveller

at a distance, but rather disappoint him on a nearer approach.

There is a poor new porch before you get to the old Gothic

doors. The interior is more picturesque than beautiful. The

renaissance ornamentation in various marbles round the walls

near the altar is on the same principle as at Autun but less

1 During our talk the director of the Bank of France told me about a recent alarm
at the bank, which was in some degree connected with ourselves. During our absence
on the Upper Saone he was seated one afternoon in his private room absorbed in his
accounts, when, at five o'clock precisely, he heard a horrible noise, and could not, on
the instant, make out the nature of it. He had, however, time to think "This is an
infernal machine that has been placed in the bank by some scoundrels, and it is now
in action. In a few seconds the explosion will take place." The noise appeared to
proceed from a small brown paper parcel, which he opened to discover an alarum
clock. I regret to say that the alarum belonged to me, and that it was I who
had set it to the hour of five. On ascending the Saone I had left this dreadful
thing at Gray, for some trifling repair, and it had been sent to the bank to await
my return.

A Summer Voyage.

129

elegant. The lancet lights above are also a heavier repetition
of those at Autun. The architecture of the church generally is
an inferior Gothic, more likely to please a painter than an
architect.

. 'fi ! I'' «

*«^ -•;

^/ Little Bridge
at Gray.

It may be observed that there is but little architecture on
the Saone above Chalon. At and below Chalon there are

a few interesting buildings.

I to The Saone.

LETTER XXIV.

Below Apremont,

June 2T,rd, Morning.

The voyage from Gray to Mantoche was one of the most
agreeable in our experience. The day was calm and cloudy at
the beginning, but the sunshine afterwards struggled through.
In the absence of " l'orage " Zoulou was well able to tow the
boat. We sat on the deck enjoying the beautiful scenery, a
succession of quiet pictures. There were many interesting tkings
on the shores (or what artists consider such,) as for example, a
little picturesque riverside restaurant with arbours for the people
of Gray to come to as those of Vesoul go to Chemilly. Here
and there were a few houses, but Mr. Pennell remarked that the
country was very thinly inhabited in comparison with America.
The difference is due chiefly to the French habit of concentrating
the rural population in villages, so that when you do not see a
village the country has all the appearance of a solitude. The
scenery increased in richness and beauty as we approached
Mantoche. There was a large, dense wood on the left shore,
and also a remarkably rich reedy foreground with an aquatic
vegetation of such luxuriance that Zoulou was absolutely hidden
by it, and the only sign of his existence was the tow-rope which
advanced in a great curve, bending the reeds before it. As
usual in these woods, there were many singing-birds, this time
including the cuckoo.

We passed a man in the middle of the river who was scooping
sand into a boat at anchor. Evidently his solitude was a burden
to him, for he at once entered into conversation with our Pilot

A Summer Voyage. 131

and their talk lasted till they could hear each other no longer.
It was a curiously friendly bit of talk about the hardships of
life and the wisdom of enduring them with patience. The Pilot
called this man " Papa," affectionately, though he had never
seen him before.

Although we were by this time quite accustomed to the
extreme civility of the bargemen we were still surprised by it a
little above Mantoche. We caused some delay to an ascending
boat which had to detach its tow-rope and pass it under the
Boussemroum. Whilst this was being done, the men on the

Near Gray.

barge talked with us in the friendliest manner. A day or two
before, our own tow-rope had been passed under a great German
boat, and there had been a hitch and a long trouble to set it right,
but not a word of impatience on either side. These little delays
usually end with a hearty expression of thanks and a " Bon jour"
or " Bon voyage."

Mantoche is one of the most picturesque places on the river.
It has two chateaux, one low on the shore, another on a hill-
side, and the Saone exactly resembles a pond, entirely
surrounded by dense woods. All the buildings seen from the
river are picturesque, with several little towers having the bell-

K 2

132

The Saonc.

shaped roof common in the Franche-Comte, and the colour of
the whole place is rich in ochres, reds and yellows. We landed
to explore the interior of the village, and the first thing we came
upon was a fine bartizan tourelle of grey stone, in excellent
preservation. This was at the corner of the chateau, and
supported on a corbel with good mouldings. The church is not
beautiful, it is too low, but its architecture is harmonious, being

Mantoche.

a pure and simple old romanesque. There is a large low
arch before the choir, placed on one side. The sanctuary
was impressively gloomy and mysterious, as seen from a
little distance, with its dark rich ornamentation against which
the great silver candlesticks stood out in picturesque relief. I
noticed a gilded coisole (half-table) of eighteenth-century carving,
set against the wall to the right, probably a gift from the

A Slimmer Voyage. 133

chateau. These incongruous things are often met with in
village churches in France, but the unpretending and picturesque
aspect of the whole interior makes us indulgent, so that they
hardly strike us as being out of place. Walking southwards we
found a renaissance house so quiet in character that it might
easily be over-looked, yet it must have been, when newly built,
a rarely perfect example of delicate, quiet taste in architecture.
Not an ornament is overdone, yet not an inch of the whole
front has been carelessly or neglectfully treated. I regret to say
that the large windows with their delicately-moulded framework
of stone, are now blocked up with bricks, and the most vulgar
modern windows are inserted wherever required, with the most
absolute disregard for the original scheme of the architect.

Nothing is more depressing to a lover of art than this
perfectly brutal and blind disregard for the better taste of a
less barbarous age than ours. Advance of refinement, indeed !
Here is refinement ravaged by vulgarity ! This is exactly one
of those really refined pieces of architecture that the vulgar
of all classes, educated or not, pass by as unworthy of attention
because there is nothing loud or obtrusive in the design.

I made a drawing of the bartizan before mentioned and
whilst at work on this was accosted by an infirm man, who
evidently took an intelligent interest in art. He invited me to
his house, and showed me some studies in water-colour by no
means destitute of native colour-faculty, but inadequate in
drawing. There was an old volume on his table, bound in
calf with faded gilding, and red-edged. He had been reading
this, and he told me that for many years his chief resource
against ennui had been the enjoyment of literature and the
practice of art. At the age of twenty-five he was a notary,

134 The Sao/w.

when a stroke of apoplexy, utterly unexpected, left partial
paralysis behind it, and deprived him of all hope of an active
life. He therefore sold his etude 1 and lived on his private
means. I was much impressed by the beautiful patience with
which he bore his infirmity and the loss it had occasioned him.
He congratulated himself that the right arm was free, and that
the paralysis of the left leg had so far diminished that he could
move about, though slowly. He thoroughly appreciated the
beauty of the village where he lived and the convenience of
access by rail to several more important places. Let no one say
that artistic and intellectual pursuits are without a serious value
as a mitigation of the ills of life ! Here was a man of refined
tastes who found it endurable under one of the most severe
and most hopeless afflictions, when a vulgar nature, in such a
maimed existence, would have tormented itself in endless
ennui. I quitted this new friend with a profound conviction
that there are men in health less happy, less contented, less
truly fortunate than he is, and our talk left an impression upon
me that lasted the whole day. It was neither gladness nor
melancholy, but rather a silent satisfaction. I had been
in one of the dark places of human life and had found light
even there.

Soon after leaving Mantoche we entered another of the
canals that scarcely differed from the magnificent one near
Scey, except that here the straight avenue may have been
longer. Zoulou did wonders in this place ; he brought us along
so quickly that we actually passed a boat drawn by horses,

1 An etude is a notary's office. These offices are limited in number by French
law, and are sold to successors as commissions used to be transmitted by sale in the
English army.

A Summer Voyage. 135

and the driver dropped his rope for the Boussemroum to float
over it, an event most worthy of record !

The same driver gave us an account of the peculiarities of his
horses. One of them, he said, was so voracious that he did not
eat his corn, he drank it, which I thought one of the strongest
and most original expressions I had ever heard.

A stately peniche travelled for some time on our left in this
canal, so I had a talk with the people on board about our
voyage and theirs. They paid me some compliment on the
ingenuity of my arrangements for living on the Boussemroum,
which I returned by teding the lady of the penicJie that they
were but of a rude and provisional character, whereas it was
evident from the pretty lace window-curtains of her cabin that
it must be delightfully neat and well-kept inside. She appeared
gratified with this piece of flattery, if agreeable truth is
flattery.

Contrarilv to our usual custom we emerged from the canal
before mooring the Boussemroum for the night. She was then
moored to the left bank, and a sudden exclamation from Mr.
Pennell drew my attention to a charmingly perfect distant view
of Apremont, a village situated on that curve of the Saone
which the canal had made us avoid. The current here is strong
and in consequence of the rains the water is heavily charged
with mud and vegetable refuse.

During the whole night the weather was boisterous with wind
and rain, but that makes little difference to us when the boat is
moored. It is in the roughest nights that we best appreciate the
convenience of the Boussemroum. With a small open boat in
this place we should have had to go on foot to Apremont, as
the curve of the river is not navigable, and we might have

136 The Saone.

failed to find a lodging there. My first advice to all boat
voyagers is to have sleeping accommodation on board. Without
it, there is no independence.

This morning the rain continues, with a north wind and an
increased current in the Saone. The landscape is French but
the effect is Scottish. We have rather a depressing day before
us, a voyage through a great forest, under the gloomiest of
skies.

The first thing we learned this morning was that a boat in
the canal had been seized by the police. The skipper had
brought a pilot with him from Corre, but had declined to pay
his wages. The pilot calmly waited till they arrived at the
next lock and then told the lock-keeper, who immediately
refused to let the boat pass and telephoned for the police.
This barge belonged to foreigners, who probably were not aware
that every lock is a telephone station, and every lock-keeper an
agent for the preservation of order. The police work of the
river is done very quietly but most effectually.

LETTER XXV.

PONTAILLER,

June 1yd, Evening.

The Boussemroum had been so manageable from Gray to
Apremont that we had almost forgotten her defect and had
come to think that she was like any other river boat. If vve
needed a reminder we got a very effective one this morning.
We had a favourable wind, that is to say, for a thing that floats

A Summer Voyage. 137

entirely on the surface of the water, one of the most uncomfort-
able of all winds. It may sound like an exaggeration, but it is
the simple truth that a contrary wind is better for the
Boussemroum. We began by swinging across the. river soon
after being unmoored, and after that we progressed mostly side-
ways, with the constant and well-founded apprehension that
Zoulou would be dragged into the water and drowned. The
Pilot and Patron were both in high excitement and quarrelling
almost without a pause. I remember one situation that gave
me five minutes of real anxiety. We came to a passage between
an island and the right bank of the Saone, when a strong gust
of wind made the entire hull of the Boussemroum lie across the
river like a bridge, but a bridge that was moving with the
current. The Boussemroum is very long, and it did not appear
certain that, in this position, the stern would not catch the
island, and the prow the shore exactly at the same time. If this
had happened, the boat would have immediately become a weir,
and I know by canoe experiences what follows. In such
accidents the water rises, the boat heels over and fills, and those
on board have no resource but swimming. Fortunately in this
case there was room to pass, though very little to spare.

As soon after this incident as the Boussemroum could be put
straight again for a few minutes, we told the Patron to jump
ashore, and made him walk with a rope in his hand that was
fastened to the stern of the vessel. By this means she could be
kept tolerably on her course. For several miles we passed
through an almost uninterrupted forest. This is one of the
most extensive forests in France, and we only crossed it in a
comparatively narrow part. Its character is at first monotonous
and the trees are uninteresting, but as you descend the river the

133

The Saone.

beauty of the forest increases greatly, and you see many fine
trees, especially well grown oaks. This led Mr. Pennell to make
a remark that opens one of the most important questions in
criticism. He said that this forest had not a French character.
I asked why not, and then Mr. Pennell went on to say that the
trees were too grand and that a French character required very
thin, small, elegant trees. I argued against the narrowing of

In the

Woodland.

the idea of what is French to a part only of what is contained
in France, and said that if in literature and art we gave the
English public only one part of French things, and always the
same part, the consequence must be that our public would not
learn to know the real France with its great variety, but only a
monotonous, imaginary France. The argument may be ex-
tended to other subjects, and particularly to the characters of

A Slimmer Voyage. 139

men. People form to themselves an ideal for some class, and
then, if a novelist represents a person belonging to that class
who does not in all things answer to the preconceived ideal, he
is blamed for want of truth, whereas he may be truthfully repre-
senting the variety that is in nature.

There is considerable variety in this great forest itself. It
increased very much in sylvan beauty and interest as we came
southwards. At first it was only vast, and had so little definite
local character that it would have been difficult to know the
scenes again, but afterwards they became recognisable.

The Pilot told me that during the terribly cold winter of
1879 — 1880 the river here was entirely frozen over, and that
great numbers of wild boars migrated from the right bank
to the left, probably in search of food. I can hardly imagine
a more desolate scene, even in Russia, than the frozen river
in this forest with a troop of wild boars upon the ice.

When on the point of emerging from the woodland we came
upon the finest of the Saone islands, remarkable not only for
its great size, but for the extraordinary beauty of its trees,
their noble height, their stately grace, their admirable grouping.
The finest of them were trembling poplars.

In the part of the forest which approaches the island the sylvan
beauty is much increased by the better massing of clumps of
trees, no longer in confusion as where the wood was denser.

An important affluent, the Ognon, falls into the Saone just
below the island, and then the river emerges from the woods
completely and enters upon a treeless plain. If I had to choose
between a dense wood and an open plain as a residence, I should
prefer the plain. This may seem strange in a lover of trees, but
there is nothing in which excessive quantity is less desirable.

I40

The Saone.

On the present occasion, after being shut up in the woods all
day, it was a great relief to see the horizon once again.

Franki and Zoulou had some difficulty between the forest
and Pontailler because the Saone was high enough to over-
flow the lowest banks, producing many little pools. At the
first of these Franki stopped, but the Pilot ordered him to go
forwards, so he dashed in, and after that made his way through

-ML i

m '

"^f^

W^ *

J^rt/m

1J #**±*&e:

filr *s?

Pontailler, from the Second Bridge.

the others without hesitation. They were not very deep, which
was lucky, as Franki cannot swim.

The boat is moored for the night at Pontailler, and we have
just explored the place. Considering that it is an ancient city,
and that there was a royal palace there so far back as the time
of Charles the Bald, its strikes us chiefly as being extremely
modern in appearance. The reason for this is historical. The
entire town was destroyed by General Mercey, whose name
resembles mercy more than his actions. The place had offered

A Summer Voyage. 141

a gallant resistance which put him out of temper, so he gave
it up to fire and sword on the 28th of August, 1636. The year
following a sort of public inventory was made from which it
appears that only five houses had escaped from the conflagration,
whilst no more than twenty-two inhabitants had been left alive
after the massacre.

Part of the town is now situated between the present bed
of the Saone, and another bed of the same river which makes
a long and very pretty lake shaded with some of the most
beautiful and graceful groups of trees that I ever beheld,
and bordered by gardens with pleasant-looking residences in
them. The lawns here are as pretty as those on the banks
of the Thames, and the gardens seem to be particularly well
kept. The church is on the space of land between the two
waters. It is a modern renaissance edifice, very plain and
simple outside, but tastefully decorated in the interior after
the present Parisian fashion. There is a bridge over the
" false river " which leads to the quarter of the town near the
railway. Altogether Pontailler is an agreeable little place,
but quite uninteresting except for the singular beauty of the
false river. To the west is the Mont Ardou, a hill of no
picturesque interest, and to the north a flat green plain up
to the limits of the forest that we traversed yesterday. The
present bridge over the Saone is a modern iron structure on
brick piers. The old bridge was blown up by the inhabitants
during the Franco-German War, but this did not preserve the
town from occupation by the enemy. Mr. Pennell much
regretted this useless destruction as there are now so few
old bridges upon the Saone. During our walk to-day we
passed along a road upon an embankment where men were

142 The Saone.

busy erecting an important iron bridge over a small marshy
place. It seemed out of all proportion to the need, but the
explanation is that it is placed there to relieve the upper
grounds in the floods. At such times the flat country above
Pontaillcr must be an extensive lake.

Pontailler, on the Old Saone.

LETTER XXVI.

Pontailler,

Jane 2\th, 10 A.M.

You will perhaps be rather surprised to learn that we are
at this minute in a state of arrest. We are prisoners, though
allowed to remain on board the Boussemroum.

When we had just finished our morning soup I happened
to look out of the door of the saloon and beheld four gendarmes
comine towards the boat in a deliberate manner. At first I
thought their visit was one of simple curiosity, but I was very
soon undeceived. When they were close to the boat one of
them said to me, "You have an individual on board who

A Summer Voyage. 143

makes plans." " No," I answered, trying to establish a necessary
but difficult distinction, " we have an artist on board who makes
drawings, but that is not the same thing."

"Yes, he makes plans," said the gendarme. " I myself saw
him doing so this morning ; let me see what he did this morn-
ing." I then asked Mr. Pennell to hand over his drawing,
which he did immediately, and the gendarme holding it the
wrong side tip, with an air of the gravest disapprobation,
repeated his assertion about plans, on which an argument arose.
The Captain and I, with small success, endeavoured to make
our visitor understand the difference between a plan and a
perspective drawing. It was a waste of time to attempt this,
because amongst the uneducated French tirer des plans is a
generic term which includes both geometrical and landscape
work of all kinds. For them the work of a land-surveyor and
that of Corot or Daubigny is the same. Afterwards we thought
the man might understand the drawing a little better if he
held it the right side up, an unlucky idea, for when its position
was rectified the change only led to a new difficulty. Mr.
Pennell's way of drawing is this : he uses Bristol boards, and
first sketches upon them in pencil, making out his whole subject
in that way ; he then proceeds to draw over the pencil in
black ink, and often in the ink drawing he introduces changes
to improve the composition. Now, it so happened that in the
drawing of Pontailler which the gendarme held in his hands
there was a pencil sketch of a house-roof that had not been
effaced, though it was destined to be so, as there were no ink
marks upon it. The gendarme had not noticed this so long
as he held the drawing the wrong side up, but when its position
had unfortunately been rectified the mystery of the pencil

144 The Saone.

marks immediately began to disquiet him, and he insisted upon
it that they were intended to represent the Mont Ardou, which,
he declared, was a place of the greatest importance in time of
war. Our repeated assertion that it was merely a house-roof
was of no avail, though we showed him other drawings with
pencil-marks left here and there. It is, however, a difficult
task to begin the artistic education of a man who has power
to arrest you, as he may not quite like to be taught. This man
got rather angry, though the three others kept their temper
well, and the angry one declared that in his view Mr. Pennell's
culpability was established, and that the case must be referred
to the authorities. We then underwent an examination about
our " papers," by which a French gendarme means passports or
other documents establishing the identity of the bearer. I
explained that as passports were no longer required at the
frontier it was not usual for Englishmen or Americans to be
provided with them, and that we possessed nothing of the
kind. 1 He then asked Captain Komprobst if he had papers.
Now it so happens that the Captain never travels without all
his most important papers, from an idea that they are safest
in his own keeping, so he had all the documents concerning
his military position and produced them. 2 The gendarme,
before examining these, would have it that the Captain had

1 Our conduct in travelling without passports has been represented as singularly
careless, but, in fact, I had often sketched on the Saone before during boating
excursions, and had never been asked to show a passport. Our critics may perhaps
be able to answer the following question : Hcnv were we to anticipate the stringency
of instructions that were issued to the gendarmes after the "Bou'.semroum" had started
on her voyage ?

- The French newspapers took no notice of this important fact, but said that we
were all three without papers.

A Summer Voyage. 145

chosen the Prussian nationality, but that was easily disproved ;
then he said it was not clear how the Captain was free from
military service before the usual time of retirement, but the
wound explained this. Finally it was admitted that the Captain
was a French officer, but under suspicion of communicating
information to foreigners who were engaged in making plans.
In this way it turned out that my military friend, instead
of being a protection to us, rather added to the danger of our
situation. I nearly lost my temper when the Captain was
accused of being an unpatriotic Frenchman, he who has the
. sentiment of patriotism in a far higher and purer form than
most Frenchmen, and in a degree which is rare at the present
day in all countries. I have not the slightest doubt that
Captain Kornprobst would march quite cheerfully to certain
death if by doing so there would be even a chance of winning
back Alsatia and Lorraine.

One of my arguments was a decided failure. I said that
real spies would never travel with such a visible and peculiar
apparatus as the Boussemroum and its contents. But the
gendarme replied, with more finesse than I expected, that an
appearance of extreme openness and frankness might be made
use of to conceal illegal designs, and that it was even possible
to sketch in an innocent manner in order to obtain opportunities
for sketching otherwise.

The same gendarme then read his instructions to us, which
empowered him to arrest persons found making plans or sketches
of roads, rivers, canals, and public works such as bridges, in
short, of all means of communication. Our drawings included
all these interdicted subjects, so it was useless to deny that
the gendarme had right on his side, in the literal sense, though

146 The Saone.

he had begun by misinterpreting our work. I then said that
I should place myself under the protection of the higher French
authorities through the mediation of a Prefect, and mentioned
three Prefects who were likely to assist me, and to whom I
intended to address telegrams. After this we noticed that
the gendarme assumed a less authoritative tone. The others
had exercised, from the beginning, a sort of moderating in-
fluence. They were perfectly civil to us, and listened with
patient attention to everything that the Captain and I had
to say in our defence.

In order that the whole matter might be fairly judged, I
offered to give up all my own drawings in addition to all those
of Mr. Pennell. The gendarmes were not aware that I had
made any drawings whatever. They counted the two collec-
tions, and promised to return them if permitted to do so by the
authorities. Meanwhile, we and the Boussemroum were to be
detained.

The Brigadier is gone to Dijon by the morning train, taking
all our drawings with him. He mentioned both the Parquet
and the General when he left us. I hope the matter will not be
referred to an ordinary legal tribunal, as we may be kept in
prison at Dijon till the case is tried. I should much prefer a
reference to the military authority, which will settle the matter
at once.

Mr. Pennell is a little dejected, for a particular reason. He is
convinced that he will never see his drawings again, which would
be painful to him, independently of their pecuniary value.
My opinion is that they will be restored, but perhaps not
immediately.

We are guarded by two of the gendarmes with revolvers in

A Summer Voyage.

their belts. I am, however, allowed to go to the Post Office
and send off telegrams and letters. I have even sent a packet
of corrected proofs, which might have been drawings. The
Captain and Franki are both fishing close to the Boussemrown.
Mr. Pennell is drawing in his tent, not venturing to work openly,
whilst abstinence from the practice of his art would be, for him,
an almost unbearable privation.

Old House at PontaiLler.

The Captain and I have had a leisurely conversation with our
guards since our arrest or detention. The tone they now adopt
is conciliatory and rather apologetic. They admit that we may
be innocent of any evil design, but affirm that they dare not let
us proceed further without an investigation, and do not feel
competent to decide the matter on their own responsibility.
They received special instructions to be exceedingly strict about
a week ago. I have reason to believe that they got orders to
look after us, by telegraph, from Gray.

L 2

148 The Saone.

We all thought at first (as other people will think) that the
gendarmes had made a ridiculous mistake because they do not
distinguish accurately between plans and sketches, but, after
hearing their instructions, I do not see how they could avoid
arresting us. If we escape being put in prison, it will only be
because the authority to whom the matter is referred takes a
liberal and reasonable view, and sees the absolute innocence of
our intentions. A narrow-minded, ill-tempered judge, with a
dislike to art and artists, might cause us most serious
inconvenience. 1

We are anxious, all three of us. I am anxious, not because
we are in danger of severe punishment, but because an expe-
dition, on the success of which I had £et my heart, may be
brought to a close prematurely. We may be distinctly for-
bidden to go on with our drawing. The Captain is anxious,
because it would be unpleasant for a military man to find
himself entangled in a trial of " spies." Mr. Pennell is anxious
for the fate of his drawings, which form a quite unique series of

1 Amongst the numerous references to our case in the newspapers, the point of
real importance was generally missed. The newspaper correspondents seem to have
believed, and some of them affirmed plainly, that we had been drawing fortified places,
and they were kind enough to let us understand that we ought to have known better.
1 One correspondent said that we had been arrested for drawing a fort at Pontailler.
and that I had admitted we were in the wrong. There is no fort at Pontailler.
Others said we had drawn fortifications at Pontarlier. Considering that Pontarlier is
fifty miles from the Saone as the crow flies, we must have had excellent eyesight to
see the forts there, supposing them to exist.

No ; the point of interest and novelty in our little adventure was the discovery, quite
new to us, that artists are liable to arrest in France for drawing ordinary landscape
subjects even when, like ourselves, they carefully avoid military works. Our surprise
was, to learn that we were in fault for having drawn a quiet river and its sluggish
canals, and for having sketched some unfortified villages on its banks, with here and
there a bridge, or a bit of rustic road

A Summer Voyage.

149

illustrations of the Upper Saone. No artist, in the future, will
ever be able to execute such a seriesof illustrations of this river
without all the practical conveniences afforded by an organised
expedition like that of the Botissemroum.

1.30 P.M.

Before closing my letter, I may tell you that our guards have
disappeared, and the Pilot has heard in the town that a telegram
has arrived at the gendarmerie. Possibly this may be in our
favour, but the Brigadier who took the drawings to Dijon is not
expected at Pontailler till evening.

LETTER XXVII.

Pontailler, Jime 25th.

After writing my letter to you yesterday, I remained idling
in or near the Boussemroum all day. The Captain fished almost
the whole day, and Mr. Pennell went on sketching privily in
his tent.

At six in the evening, being in that part of the boat which we

150

The Saonc.

call the " Cour Pennell," a square space in front of the artist's
habitation, I saw two gendarmes approaching, and one of them
carried a large parcel under his arm. " What news ? " I asked,
when they came near, and they answered, " Bonnes nouvelles."

I confess that this was an immense relief to both of us, for
the reasons I mentioned yesterday. One of the gendarmes was
the same who had spoken rather sharply to us in the morning.
His manner was now very different, and he offered an apology ;
but I answered that he and his brethren had only done their
duty, which is really my view of the matter. Besides, they
might have annoyed us much more seriously.

The drawings were now counted, and faithfully returned to
us. They had been submitted to the General x commanding the
district of Dijon, who had examined them and declared that
there was nothing in them to disquiet the military authorities.
He gave directions that we were to be allowed to pursue our
journey peacefully, but he sent us at the same time a friendly
message to the effect that it would be well not to sketch at
Auxonne (which is a fortified place) nor in its immediate
neighbourhood. I promised that this advice should be acted
upon, not simply because Auxonne has little artistic interest,
but because I was glad to have an opportunity of showing
deference to an officer who had dealt so fairly with us.

The gendarmes appeared anxious to atone in some way for
the annoyance they had caused us, and volunteered to write or
telegraph to the gendarmerie at St. Jean de Losne (our next
town after Auxonne) to say that we were not to be molested.
I accepted this proposal, and we parted in a friendly manner,
the gendarmes wishing us a pleasant voyage.

1 General Tricoche, an artillery officer of very high reputation in the French army.

A Summer Voyage. 1 5 1

I am waiting here to-day, because recommended to do so by
a Prefect who has applied to the Minister of War. Mr. Pennell
has resumed his sketching at Pontailler, and it amused me this
morning to see one of the gendarmes passing within a few yards
of him. They salute us, especially the Captain, with much
politeness, which makes it difficult to restrain a smile. I have
now discovered that Mr. Pennell pitched his sketching-stool
close to the gendarmerie itself!

We have learned something about the extreme strictness of the
military authorities here. It appears that we are in the second
line of defence, and although Pontailler has no fort it is within the
range of the great guns on Mount Roland. The road surveyors are
not allowed to make new plans of any part of the roads without
special permission, and a landowner cannot freely make a new
path upon his property. All the means of communication are
considered to be military. This may seem an excess of precau-
tion, but it may be well to ask ourselves whether, if a French
army occupied Sussex and Kent, the English military
authorities would not be equally strict in Surrey. 1

A rather strange incident occurred this morning on the quay.

1 Railroads and canals are in some cases believed to be expressly made by the
State for military purposes, though used for ordinary traffic in time of peace. For
example, the non-navigable Saone above Corre is crossed by a railway not yet entirely
finished, which is one of several strategic railways either completed or in progress.
It is possible that the great engineering works that have been executed during the
last decade on the Saone itself, making it navigable from Gray to Corre, and thus
connecting it with the canal and river systems of the north-east and north, may have
had some strategic as well as commercial motive also. However this may be, the
military authorities look upon all navigable inland waters as a part of the national
defence.

Now, it so happened that one of my drawings which were shown to the General at
Dijon included a canal with two bridges and a tunnel, one of the bridges being that

I c 2 The Saone.

All the bargemen and labourers were talking about the news that
the Government had decided to expel the Princes, and they were
unanimous in disapproving the measure. Our Pilot had been
with them, and also felt strongly on the subject. Generally,
when men arc indignant, they exaggerate the cause of their
indignation, and these men believed that all princes whatever
were expelled. I explained the real limits of the measure to the
Pilot, and shortly afterwards the bargemen sent him to ask if I
would talk to them. It is always a delicate matter for a foreigner
to speak on a political subject, but there could be no harm in
removing a misconception, so I went and explained the case.
The men listened most attentively, and were much relieved to
hear that the measure affected the Pretenders only. I said that
the necessity might be regretted but that, as a matter of fact, it
had always been the custom of all Governments to expel
Pretenders. The feeling showed by the bargemen and labourers
did them credit. It did not arise from political partisanship, as
I believe they were all Republicans and quite loyal to the
existing Government, it arose from the sympathy with what they
believed to be an unmerited misfortune. " Are they not," they
asked when speaking of the princely families, "are they not
French citizens like ourselves ? " '

of a railway, which is probably a strategic railway. The canal itself, and especially the
tunnel, might be regarded as works having a possible military importance.

In a case of this kind it is- clear that the artist is completely at the mercy of his
military judge.

1 The expulsion of the Comte de Paris has since been justified by the manifesto in
which he undisguisedly assumed the position of Pretender. That of the Due d' Aumale,
regretted by every lover of the Fine Arts, and of all high culture whatever, was not ex-
pected in June, 1SS6, and appears to have been intentionally provoked by the form of
his letter to the President.

A Summer Voyage. 153

LETTER XXVIII.

St. Jean de Losne,
June 26th.

A steam-tug came down to Pontailler yesterday about noon,
so I resolved to avail myself of it, and to have telegrams and
letters forwarded to this place.

The speed of tugs with trains of boats behind them is, as you
know by our experience on the Upper Saone, remarkable only
for slowness, yet a tug is preferable to our poor friend and
inadequate servant Zoulou, who is liable to be stopped at any
time by a side wind, and who cannot, at the best, take us over
more than ten miles in the day. The distance from Pontailler
to St. Jean de Losne is about twenty-three miles by the Saone,
and this took us from one o'clock in the afternoon till ten in the
evening without other stoppages than a very few locks, yet after
going behind Zoulou the steamer gave us the illusion of a
relative swiftness, an illusion greatly aided by the washing of
the water against the clumsy boats. They do not cut it and
glide through it like a yacht, they butt against it noisily, and
leave a whirling commotion in their wake.

The scenery between Pontailler and St. Jean de Losne is at
first wooded, and the views are not extensive, but they gradually
become more open, approximating in character to the Lower
Saone. The horizon is hilly, without having much character at
first, though as we descend the river the hills increase in
interest. The dominant height is Mount Roland, with its church
and a few houses on the crest of it, situated just like a Gaulish
oppidum. There is a strong, modern fort on this command-

154

The Saone.

ing position, which can bombard the whole country round with
its far-carrying heavy ordnance, but modern military works are

Coming doivn behind steamer

so little conspicuous that this fort was not visible from the river.
The mount is, I believe, called after the famous paladin who
fought at Roncevaux, and this union of modern strength with

A Stimmer Voyage. 155

ancient romance and some natural grandeur gives it not a little
dignity.

The character of the buildings in the villages and by the river
is often grand with their lofty peaked roofs. Mr. Pennell
managed to sketch a great shed that would have attracted
Rembrandt. In the churches we noticed a peculiar taste for
sharp spires. Each village has its spire, and in one of them,
La Marche, there is a new church with the luxury of two spires,
both rather thin and needle-like. This taste may be explicable
by the example of Auxonne, which possesses a fine taper spire
that must have set the fashion.

The river here winds about so much that without the help of a
map any one approaching Auxonne from the north would
believe that he had left it far behind and was going directly
away from it. Afterwards the river seems to return to the city,
which is visible in the distance chiefly by the tall spire just
alluded to.

Poncey-les-Athee is a village on the right bank of the Saone.
The name might strike an Englishman at first as meaning that
the inhabitants were atheists, but les, in this connection, means
near (from /at us), and indicates that this Poncey is near the
village of Athee, which, in fact, is about a mile to the south.
Poncey attracted our attention by a great building, ugly enough
to the bodily eye, but beautiful to the mind's eye when one
knows the origin and the use of it. A rich man in the neigh-
bourhood erected it at his own private cost as an asylum for the
poor.

In this part of the river Mr. Pennell remarked that the shore
of the Saone was an " arrangement " in green and red between
the two blues of sky and reflection. Beginning at the top, this

156 The Saone.

arrangement may be described as follows, in bands : Blue sky,
dark green trees, bright green grass, reddish bank where the earth
is eaten away, then the reflections producing all these bands of
colour over again in reverse order and in deeper tones. We
agreed that this was very pleasant to the eye in nature, and
that the repetition of it for miles was not at all fatiguing, but
how impossible to make a picture with these bands of colour,
unless the painter had recourse to other materials to interrupt
and relieve them !

I mention this arrangement as particularly characteristic of
the Saone. I have never seen a river on which it was so frequent
and maintained for such considerable distances. I may add
that on the Lower Saone the band of dark trees is frequently
absent, and is replaced by the blue of distant hills. The grass
of the shore is extremely fresh during our present voyage on
account of the recent rain, and the contrast of the red earth for
colour and the dark trees for tonic value is such as to enhance
the brightness of the green shore to the utmost, particularly
under sunshine.

The fortifications of Auxonne are not very visible at first
from a boat on the river. The aquatic traveller sees little except
soft-looking green mounds, but on looking attentively he may
discern a narrow line of grey stone below the green. On
approaching the bridge the strong wall is very visible behind the
avenue that has been planted on the left bank of the Saone.

Being anxious to observe the General's friendly hint about
Auxonne in appearance as well as fact, I decided that none of
the party should land there, and for some time before and after our
arrival Mr. Pennell ceased to make the rapid memoranda which
occupy and amuse him during our ordinary boat travelling.

A Sum) tier Voyage. 157

As we passed under the bridge Mr. Pennell and the Captain
observed that a gendarme was watching us, and that he remained
in sight till the Boussemroiun, after a short stoppage, had
resumed her voyage. I hope his vigilance was rewarded by
the assurance that we made no sketches at Auxonne.

As we did not even land I cannot describe the church to you
except as seen from a distance. It was a matter of regret to me
not to visit this edifice, which has some architectural peculiarities.
There is a vast porch under the western towers that must
produce a fine effect of shadow. The church has five towers in
all, only one of them being completed.

The misfortune of a place of this kind is that the ages efface
their predecessors. Nothing is so dull, so destructive of the past,
as the work of modern military and civil engineers. Auxonne
has suffered from both. Who that sees the monotonous walls
under their green mounds can think of Auxonne as it must
have been when the nobility of Burgundy gave their brilliant
tournament in the year 1444 ? It is difficult when you see the
red-legged French soldiers lounging on the long iron bridge to
remember that Auxonne was once the capital of a little
independent sovereignty belonging neither to the duchy of
Burgundy nor the kingdom of France. It is a curiosity of
history that there are two small ex-capital cities on the Saone,
Trevoux and Auxonne. Such weak little States can hardly
last, and this one ended naturally by being incorporated with the
duchy first and afterwards with the kingdom.

One of the most recent historical associations of Auxonne is,
that Napoleon had his sledges made here for the audacious
passage of the Alps. There is more real sublimity about the
rough work of the carpenters, who made these things in a hurry,

158 The Sad ne.

than in the finished craft of a Parisian coach-builder. The
grandeur of such a scheme as the passage of the Alps makes
the rudest instruments sublime. Auxonne is still so military
that the soldiers are four-tenths of the whole population, and are
to be seen everywhere. We met groups of well-mounted officers
riding along the canal banks (they stared with wonder at the
tents on the Boussemroum), and there were soldiers in the fields
about, and everywhere, even in the very waters of the Saone
itself.

In the lock below Auxonne I took occasion to scold young
Franki seriously, this being the first time that I have spoken a
harsh word to him. The lad gives me real anxiety in such
places. He cannot swim a stroke and he is recklessly active,
running along the edges of boats like an old marinier, and
climbing in and out everywhere, up the vertical iron ladders in
the locks, and in general wherever there is the attraction of
danger. Now, the danger in locks is really serious, for if you
fall into the water between a boat like the Bonssemrouvi and the
wall, or between any two of these big boats, you are likely to be
crushed to death. 1 The bargemen are constantly placing them-
selves in situations where a false step would have this result, but
their wonderful skill makes the false step itself very unlikely to
happen. With Franki the case is different, he is not a young
viariuier, bred on the river, but only a farm servant.

Since the establishment of our little quarter-deck, as we call
it, in front of the donkey's house, from which we have an

1 The best chance of safety in such an accident would be the following, but it would
require both presence of mind and good diving powers. One might dive at once be-
neath the boat and swim under it to the stern, where there is sure to be a little room
about the rudder, sometimes all the room there is in a lock crowded to the utmost.

A Summer Voyage.

159

unimpeded view of the river, we have acquired the habit of
sitting on this deck when we are towed, especially if the scenery-
is interesting. Few hours of our voyage have been more delight-
ful than those spent on the quarter-deck between Auxonne and
St. Jean de Losne. After a splendid day came an evening of
enchantment with effects that could hardly be painted, and of
which no conception whatever can be conveyed with the simple

Our Quarterdeck.

art of pen-drawing. After passing through the lock at Auxonne
the voyager finds himself in a broader river with the character of
the Lower Saone. This character may be described generally in
a few words. The Upper Saone is more or less closely hemmed
in, either by near hills or by woods, but on the Lower Saone
(with the exception of the extreme south, of which more will be
said later), although there are hills and woods still, the hills are

160 The S aone.

generally distant, and the woods only occasional — a great wood
here and there — whilst the especial character of the scenery is
extent of plain, giving such a sense of space that it reminds one
of the desert or the sea. This latter comparison has so often
occurred to me that I was struck by the coincidence, when Mr.
Pennell exclaimed, " This is a new sensation on a river ; it is like
being on the sea ! " After a brilliant sunset came the finest
effects of all. In the after-glow the sky was of greenish mother-
of-pearl, with delicate films of rosy cloud slowly darkening, and
a line of fiery crimson over the intense azure of the distance.
The effect lost nothing of its poetry by our knowledge that those
distant hills were not mere sterile rock and bog but the richest
vine-lands where the juice of the grape has attained its mellow-
est perfection, the world-renowned Cote d'Or seen across the
great plain of Burgundy. The perfect calm of the river was
disturbed only by the passage of our train of boats, which took
vast and majestic curves that gave it at times a picturesque
beauty, the strong steamer holding steadily on her way, trans-
formed by distance and by the magical evening light into the
poetic essence of steamships instead of the hard mechanical
reality. Many of the boats were covered with great cloths, in
colour a pale faded green, that gave the train the appearance of
a vast floating camp, and our own tents in the foreground added
to the illusion. As the twilight deepened, the river seemed
broader still, the shores more mysterious and more remote, and
at one place on the right bark x we saw a wonderful effect of

1 I learned from the map that this place was Mailly-le-Port by the mouth of the
river Tille near the village of Les Maillys, which is situate about a mile farther
inland. The river Tille has this remarkable peculiarity, that it is formed of three
streams, each of which is called (he Tille. The three meet in a small lake from which

A Summer Voyage.

161

extreme obscurity in contrast with beautiful light. Mr. Pennell
was enchanted with the fine arrangements of some dark farm-
houses and cottages, composing themselves at times with such
strange perfection that it seemed intentional. These dark houses
with high thatched roofs stood on a band of dark plain between
a sky still glowing with pearly light and its counterpart in the
calm water, the only other element in the simple composition
being the dim indefinite hills of the Cote d'Or, still retaining
their azure, but darkened to an incredible depth. At this time

-^■"'^Iv^.':''^'

'IMLiM '.
mi

Sunset on the Broad Saone.

Mr. Pennell's enthusiasm knew no bounds, and he continued
taking rapid notes in his sketch-book till he could see no longer.
The scene was so rarely and so completely beautiful that he
declared it was the finest and most perfect without any exception
that he had ever witnessed in his whole life — such was the over-
powering effect of the impression at the moment. He must
have thought me unimpressionable in my taciturnity, as I did
not sketch and remained almost entirely silent ; but I am his
senior by twenty-five years, and time causes us to take the

the united river flows. In the way of river nomenclature I do not know any similar
instance.

1 62 The Sadne.

greatest pleasures calmly. To me the delight in all this beauty
was tempered by infinite sadness, for it brought suddenly to my
recollection scenes of the same rare quality witnessed in other
lands and in what is now an irrecoverable past.

In this part of the Saone are two large islands, one above
Mailly-le-Port opposite the village of St. Seine-en-Bache, and
the other below Mailly. Neither of these islands is wooded, and
they increase the melancholy of the scenery by their dreary
aspect in the midst of the waters. A rushy shore, a stretch of
land surrounded by water, and that is all. Beyond the lower
island, on the left shore, are some grey buildings with what looks
like a mediaeval pont-levis, the whole presenting very much the
appearance of the entrance to some ancient town. This is the
beginning of one of the most important canals in Continental
Europe — it connects the Rhone with the Rhine !

There is such a glamour in history, and poetry, and art, that
the mere names of these most famous rivers, in their curious
similarity, awaken a thousand associations. Gazing on this
simple entrance to the canal I came to see it no longer, but, in
place of it, a rapidly changing vision of romantic cities, castled
heights, and swiftly-flowing waters. Rhodanus makes his way
from his great blue lake to a sea of sunshine, Rhenus flows from
another great lake to lose his divided identity in the flat sands
of a foggy northern coast ; yet this humble result of human toil,
so insignificant in appearance that we might pass it without
notice, has made them as one river, and a boat may go from
Ehrenbreitstein to Avignon.

I have just spoken of the glamour of history. Is there any-
thing in history more romantic than the Crusades, or any crusade
grander in the courage and hope that inspired it, and in the

A Summer Voyage. 163

fortitude with which a great disappointment was endured, than
that expedition of Saint Louis to the Nile, described by the
good Sire de Joinville ? Well, during our voyage from Auxonne
to St. Jean de Losne, it was impossible not to think of the
hopeful setting forth of that expedition. De Joinville tells us
that the baggage belonging to the Count de Sarrebruck and
himself was sent in carts as far as Auxonne, " there to be put on the
river of Saone in order that it might go as far as Aries by the
Saone and by the Rhone." In the same chapter he says, " I and
my companions ate at Fontaine l'Archeveque before Donjeux,
and there the Abbot of St. Urbain gave a great number of
beautiful jewels to me and my nine knights. From that place
we went to Auxonne, then with our baggage that we had caused
to be put in boats we went from Auxonne to Lyons descending
the Saone ; and, by the side of the boats, our great war-horses
were led."

This passage is intensely interesting for several reasons. It
proves that in those days the Saone was navigable from Auxonne
downwards, and also that there was a towing-path, without
which the horses could not have been led continuously along the
shore. Yet the river itself must have been at that time com-
paratively in a natural state, as the engineering works are recent.
There are now eleven locks between Auxonne and Lyons which
have made the navigation incomparably easier

When you are on the river in such an evening effect as that
which enchanted us near Mailly-le-Port — effects of that rare

1 The Saone appears to have been navigable up to Gray in the thirteenth century,
as the increase of the town at that date is attributed to the commerce by the river. It
was navigable from Lyons to Chalon in Roman and in ancient Gaulish times, but there
the natural difficulties are not great, and the worst evils were probably nothing
more than a few places with a strong current and some shallows in hot weather.

M 2

164

The Saone.

beauty being in the highest degree stimulating to the imagin-
ation — it becomes possible almost to see the train of boats with
the Crusaders and their " grands destriers " led along the bank.
Tis a glimpse of a vanished past, and only a glimpse. Where
are the brave, simple-minded, enthusiastic knights, and the strong
steeds, and the boats and river " mariners " of those days ? It is
like asking where is the water that carried them, as they believed,
towards the deliverance of Palestine. Yet surely we know that
they passed here, between these shores, where now the steam-tug
draws the barges and the Boussemroum.

At length in the deepening twilight we made out the towers of
St. Jean de Losne, and soon arrived and anchored there, if the
dropping of a heavy stake can be called anchoring.

How delightful it is to be exempt from the trouble of seeking
for an inn when one arrives at a place at night ! We stop at
St. Jean de Losne at ten, in the starlight, and there is nothing to
be done. The Boussemroum ceases to move, that is all. I give
orders to the Pilot to moor her to the south-eastern quay in the
morning, near the entrance to the Burgundy canal, and I know
that she will be there when I awake.

v-i- ■

A Summer Voyage. 165

LETTER XXIX.

St. Jean de Losne,
June 27th.

As soon as the post-office opened in the morning I presented
myself and found a short telegram from a Prefect, not very
explicit, but enough to satisfy me that the Minister of War has
given a favourable answer. It is to be regretted that I have not
the terms of the Minister's despatch, as I have nothing to show
to a gendarme. 1

We have had evidence this morning that the gendarmes at
Pontailler have been as good as their word. Mr. Pennell, as
usual, went straight to the gendarmerie to draw, and was not
disturbed. Later in the day he was drawing the church and I
was standing near him when a gendarme appeared in sight. He
was in full uniform, not excepting the cocked hat, 2 and bore
down upon us as a ship of war might come upon two defenceless
merchantmen. Our first impression was that we were to be
captured as prizes, but instead of arresting us the armed man

1 I learned afterwards that there had been a double mistake. The Prefect had
intended that the Minister's despatch should be forwarded to me, and a copy of it sent
to the Prefect of the Doubs, where he believed me to have been arrested by the
common confusion between Pontailler and Pontarlier. This caused me afterwards
much trouble in correspondence, and to this day I have not been able to procure the
Minister's despatch, although the Prefect had explicit permission from the War Office
to communicate it to me.

2 All I regret about the gendarmes who arrested us at Pontailler is that they did not
wear their cocked hats. They carried revolvers, it is true, which might have been
more efficacious weapons, but a gendarme without his cocked hat is hardly a complete
gendarme. Mr. Pennell wanted to add this imposing ornament in a sketch of our
arrest, but I insisted that the drawing ought to be historical.

1 66

The Saone.

saluted us and smiled upon us, oh ! so sweetly. Two quotations
rushed into my mind together, one was from Macaulay's Tory: —

"Right graciously he smiled on us,"

the other was from a French ditty : —

" Et avec un sourire

De ravissante douceur.''

The church of St. Jean de Losne which Mr. Pennell sketched,
is to my taste the most picturesque — I do not say the finest — on

P%' A

II-'.

^ fefe' ! ' ^l:S : ■ ^I^ f

7%i? Church at St. Jean de Losne.

the Saone. The colour of its warm old brick-work was a ereat
comfort to the eyes after the colder stone-work on the upper
river, and it was a pleasure after the severe modern renaissance
architecture at Pontailler and Port-sur-Saone to come upon the

A Summer Voyage. 167

fanciful and elegant renaissance of a more inventive age, even
though out of place, as it was patched upon a sort of gothic.

The west end of the church at St. Jean de Losne is indeed sad
patchwork and yet pathetically interesting. The gothic has
been removed about the entrance to make way for a renaissance
doorway so exquisitely beautiful as to be utterly out of harmony
with the general rudeness of the edifice, a work of accomplished
art that ought to have been taken when new and put safely away
in the hall of some museum. Too delicate even to be exposed
to the common vicissitudes of the weather, far too delicate to be
entrusted to the vandalism of ignorant and careless men, it has
met its inevitable fate, and is now ravaged and ruined. Columns
are broken away and leave their capitals hanging in the air ; the
perfectly carved canopies over the niches remain between the
little brick and plaster shops that fill up the recesses ; mouldings
once sharp and well defined are now clipped and broken away.
Above the cornice the vandals have built a blank wall and placed
in the midst thereof a barbarous old statue, and above this wall
is a huge window without mullion or transom, consisting of
nothing but common panes of glass, and having no more style
or taste than the windows of an engine-room or a weaving shed.
The work of the renaissance artist has been attacked from below
as well as from above. It is partly buried by the raising of the
level of the street, and instead of ascending to his beautiful
doorway you go down to it. Nobody has cared for all his skill
and taste. The blind forces of Nature would have treated his
work with as much care and intelligence. It might almost as
well have been entrusted to the grinding of an Alpine glacier or
the wash of the Atlantic wave.

Still, shattered as they are now, and out of place as they

1 68 The Saone.

must ever have been on a rude gothic edifice like this, these
remains of a too exquisite beauty have the preciousness of a
finer civilization. There is no really refined work in the little
town, except this. I can fancy some youth, born and bred
there, and getting his notions of refinement in architectural
art from these broken fragments onlv. The church itself is
interesting in quite another way. It would be a capital subject
for water-colour drawings, and the picturesque draughtsman
would not object to the little shops that nestle between the
buttresses. One of these is actually a small cafe, with all the
appliances of a cafe in miniature, even to seats outside and
orange-trees in green tubs. Another of these tiny establish-
ments is a fruit-shop, with its pretty display of fruit close to the
church door.

The interior of the church is picturesque, but there is nothing
in it so delicate as the renaissance work about the doorway.
The reason for this appears to be that the renaissance artists
who worked inside used marble, and thought that the richness of
the material released them from the labour of invention. There
is a great Italian marble baldacchino above the altar, with a
hemicycle of marble columns behind it, and a flourish carved in
marble above. There is also a heavy and expensive red marble
pulpit — a monolith. It seems to be almost a rule that the more
marble there is in a building the less mind ; the pretty material
seems to be taken as a substitute for mind. 1 Another great evil
of rich marbles is that they bar the way to a judicious restora-

1 A striking instance of this is the choir at Chartres, where the carvings were removed
in the time of pseudo-classical vandalism to make way for plain slabs of coloured
marbles, not better than the common work in chimney-pieces, only bigger and
more expensive

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A Summer Voyage. 169

tion. At Gray and Autun the intelligent modern architects
have not dared to remove the marbles, for fear of a popular
clamour.

I observed in this church an arrangement of stalls radiating
round a column, which was effective and new to me. There is a
fine view of a side chapel through intersecting arches, and in the
chapel is a large gilded figure of a bishop. High in the air
hangs a big votive model of a ship, with a tricolour of dispro-
portionate size behind ; but there are suspended relics of greater
historical interest.

The little town has a glorious surname, Belle Defense, because
in 1636 the inhabitants successfully defended the place against
the imperial army under General Gallas. The helmet and sword
of the officer who commanded the defenders are still preserved
in the church, and the event is celebrated by a public festival
which was at first intended to take place every hundred years.
The interval of a century was, however, thought to be too long
and that of fifty years was adopted instead, which fixes the cele-
bration in the year 18S6. The people were planning the details of
their festival during our stay. It has the good effect of making
them remember a bright page of local history. That year 1636,
marked with unutterable horrors for Pontailler, is splendid with
successful heroism for St. Jean de Losne.

There is an event in the earlier history of the place which is a
comedy and a tragedy in one. In the year 1273 the lords of
Franche-Comte sent five hundred men to surprise St. Jean de
Losne, and to effect this the more easily they were disguised as
women. However, the inhabitants found them out and slaughtered
all the five hundred.

The warlike annals of this little place come down quite to our

170 The Saone.

own times, as the Garibaldians resisted a German advance in a
combat here in 1870, after which the Germans retired to Dijon.
There are still fortifications about St. Jean de Losne on the land
side, bastions and a ditch, but the place is not a ville fermee like
Auxonne. However, there was quite enough to give a pretext
for the imprisonment of Mr. Pennell if we had not been in favour
with the military authority.

He noticed that the people at St. Jean de Losne were extremely
civil to him, and appeared to understand art. They admired his
rapid skill, and especially his power of drawing with the left
hand. 1 When it rained they invited him into their houses, an
attention which he contrasted with the rudeness of the people in
a northern city. I, too, had my own experience of civility here.
I went to a cafe and found myself unable to pay for what I had
taken, so I explained my case to the lady. I owed five sous and
possessed but four. Having paid all but the last sou, I was
leaving when by accident I discovered just one sou in another
pocket which enabled me to clear myself of debt. Then the
lady said, " This is a disappointment for me, monsieur, for so
long as you were my debtor I was sure to see you again, whereas
now I am no longer sure." A trifle, but pretty in the thought
and extremely neat in the expression.

Another trifling incident pleased me. I was drawing the
Saone with a steam-tug in the foreground and the tug was ready
to start with its train of boats. The captain, however, saw me
at work, and came ashore to say that he would postpone
his departure a little if my sketch were not yet finished. It is
true that he was the same captain who took us up to Corre, but

1 Mr. PenneU always drew with the left hand during our voyage, and I believe he
finds it more convenient than the right, but he is able to use both

$•

A Summer Voyage. 171

sketchers are not accustomed to so much consideration from
anybody.

Whilst I was drawing, a great boat came suddenly round the
corner out of the Burgundy canal, and we had to get the rope over
the Boussemroum. The Pilot was fast asleep in the cabin, and
the Patron far too much absorbed in his cookery to heed any-
thing. Luckily Captain Kornprobst was on board, so he and I
passed the rope, which is difficult when boatmen are not accommo-
dating, 1 The men in the big boat were engaged in a furious
quarrel at the time, so they had not leisure to be considerate.
We heard them quarrelling till we lost sight of them through
the bridge.

Franki asked permission to absent himself for half-a-day. He
wished to go to the village of St. Symphorien (where the Rhine
canal begins) to inquire after his brother, of whom nothing had
been heard for two years. This lad had quitted his situation
without leaving an address, and had not written to his mother or
to any one. A girl who had been in these parts said that news of
him might be had at St. Symphorien, but Franki came back
disappointed. His brother had indeed been there, but he had
gone to another situation which he had quitted, and then all
trace of him was lost. I am often struck by the wonderful non-
communicativeness of the poor. In this present instance I asked
Franki if he would not write to his mother. " No " he said, "it

1 A horse walking at the rate of four kilometres an hour (which is the pace when a
boat is light) does about sixty-six metres in the minute, or about one metre per second.
The length of the Boussetnroum is twenty-seven metres, consequently, if the driver is
in a bad temper and will not slacken his pace, you have twenty-seven seconds to pass
the rope over all obstacles, and it is a most awkward thing to get hold of,
especially as it may sometimes have a combination of two motions, forward and
diagonal.

iyz The Sao tie.

is not necessary. She will understand that there is no news
about my brother."

Franki had been very kindly treated by the people at St.
Symphorien, especially by the cure, who gave him his dinner,
with cherries, to console him for his disappointment.

LETTER XXX.

St. Jean de Losne,

June 28t/i, Morning.

Last evening we walked to see the Burgundy canal. This
great canal, which joins the Saone to the Yonne and therefore to
the Seine, is a convenience for the internal navigation of France,
as it connects the Atlantic with the Mediterranean, and yet, if
such an expression is permissible, it is a most inconvenient
convenience. The number of locks is given by Malte-Brun as
25 1, 1 and there is a tunnel at Pouilly so long that the steam-tugs
take an hour and a half to pass through it, and nearly suffocate
you with the fumes of their coke. For the bargemen who do
each day's work as a matter of business, it matters little whether
time is spent in a lock or in travelling, but amateur boatmen see
in every lock a wearisome trial of patience. I therefore looked

1 The bargemen confirmed this number, but on reference to the log of the Princess,
an English yacht that passed the canal in 1S80, I do not find quite so many. Malte-
Brun, the geographer, and the bargemen are probably right. I certainly will not decide
the matter by going to count the locks in the canal itself.

The transit by the Burgundy canal from the Saone to the Yonne occupied the
steam-yacht five days.

A Summer Voyage. 173

upon the Canal de Bourgogne with a quiet but most firm
resolution never to attempt the navigation of it. As a picture,
it was curious and rather beautiful from a bridge. It is perfectly
straight, and would present a curious example of perspective
lines converging at an apparent vanishing point, were there not
a lock in the remote distance that just prevents the view from
being infinite. The long avenue of poplars had its own sub-
limity, especially as they were dark in the evening with an after-
glow in the sky behind them, and the whole was reflected in the
still water. This canal, however, is but of an ordinary width,
and therefore not comparable to the noble canals on the Upper
Saone. It seemed to me so melancholy in its monotonous length,
that the natural ending of it must be a cemetery whereto the
funeral processions might go in black boats moving silently on
the stagnant pool.

During our walk round the outskirts of St. Jean de Losne, we
saw many picturesque farm-buildings that delighted Mr. Pennell
and gave us a succession of charming rural domestic pictures, as
the people had not yet gone to bed. It was Samuel Palmer's
favourite hour, and the scene before us presented the rich darks
that he loved, and the mysterious penumbrae with centres of
glowing light in the interiors.

There being nothing to detain us at St. Jean de Losne
I have seized the opportunity presented by a descending train of
boats which is stopping here for an hour or two. I have agreed
with the captain of the tug to have the Boussemroum towed
directly to Verdun.

This is quite contrary to my principles as a traveller, but is a
concession to unfortunate circumstances. If the Boussemroum
had possessed lateral resistance enough to tow well I should have

174 The Saone.

hired a pair of horses, the great evil of steam-tugs being that
they only stop at the locks. I value the power of stopping at
will more than anything else in travelling, more than either
comfort or speed. It is a mental torture to be dragged past an
interesting place without being permitted either to explore or
sketch it. However, a berrichon is a berrichon and we have to
accommodate ourselves to the peculiarities of our vessel. It has
come to this, that we look upon the steam-tug as our only
chance of ultimately reaching Chalon. Even the tugs are very
slow. The distance from St. Jean de Losne to Verdun is under
thirty miles, yet it will take us the whole day, and this without
the privilege of stopping.

LETTER XXXI.

Verdun,

June 2%th, Late Evening.

Our place in the train of boats was by the side of a great
Belgian pcnicJic which gave me the opportunity for examining
one of these interesting vessels at leisure. The long open space
in the middle is covered with hatches which (though quite loose
and easily removed at any part for loading) are so well contrived
and fitted, with grooves for drainage, that no rain-water enters.
After the rude barges that one is accustomed to meet on the
Saone, which have probably not been altered in shape or finish
since the middle ages, a Belgian peniche strikes one by the per-
fection of all its details. This perfection is carried out in every-

A Slimmer Voyage.

175

thing, both in the thorough workmanship of the builders, and in
the orderly, conservative care of the boatmen, who are often
owners. The peniche we travelled with might have been con-
verted into a most respectable house-boat without any change in
its external appearance.

\ N

On Board a Peniche.

Just behind the central cabin there lay on one of the hatches
a little model of a sloop with its sails set. " That vessel," I said
to the boatman's wife, " makes me know that you have a little
boy on board, though I have not seen him yet." Instead of
brightening at the reference to her child as mothers generally

176 The Sao ne.

do, this mother looked sad and pained, and she answered : " Yes,
I have a little boy, but he is ill." I hoped the illness might not
be serious, and the subject dropped till the afternoon, when the
mother came on deck with a child in her arms that did not look
very well. "Is this the little ship-owner?" I inquired. "No,
sir," she answered with the same expression of profound sorrow
on her countenance, "he is older, he is five years old." I con-
cluded that the boy must be seriously ill and made no further
allusion to him, as his mother did not seem able to bear the
subject. The same evening, whilst we were at dinner, she came
near the berrichon and had a talk with the Patron who was in
the galley. The tone of her voice was very sad, and after some
time she gave the reason. " We are in great affliction, we lost
our son a fortnight since." " What age ? " inquired the Patron.
" He was five years old!' So this had been the owner of the
little model sloop, and his mother, not being able to utter the
dreaded word mort, had said malade to me instead. How
differently different people bear these sore afflictions ! In the
same situation I could have said quite easily, "My child is
dead," but I could never have borne to see the little toy-ship
every time I came out of the cabin ; that would have been beyond
my fortitude.

There is a little grave in some churchyard in a village by the
Saone or the Meuse where that pcniche will stop, you may be
sure, on every one of its future voyages.

At a place called Le Chatelet there is a lock, and here we
found quite a collection of boats, so picturesque that Mr. Pennell
was put ashore to sketch them and got caught in a heavy
shower. Amongst these boats was a charming house-boat of
moderate dimensions, with a black hull and a white house built

A Summer Voyage.

177

upon it. As house-boats interest us just now we had the
curiosity to peep inside as we passed, and saw a very tidy little
dwelling of several well-furnished and orderly rooms. This is
the floating residence of the admiral of the dredging boats, and
in this way he inspects the work done in different parts of the
river, on which he has his own home everywhere.

At Le Chatelet there were picturesque houses on the shore
with roofs of thatch and moss, and some quaint balconies. To
console Mr. Pennell for being taken away from these by the in-
exorable tug, I promised him other thatched houses on the

^si_li -J— - ...

A House-boat.

Lower Saone, but I doubt if he will find anything quite so good.
It is such a torture to him to be dragged past interesting places
that I am obliged, at times, to lure him on with promises that
may not be quite fulfilled.

At Seurre, which is a town of some importance, the houses
have quite a different character, indeed Seurre does not resemble
any village or town that we have hitherto seen. They remind
one of Holland and even of England. They are of red brick,
and some of them are both tall and ugly. There is a gaunt
brick building with two wings near the bridge. This is not out
of keeping here, and gives a sort of grim dignity to the place.

178 The Saonc.

This town has a punning motto to its arms, " Loyale et
Seurre." Its history goes back to Roman antiquity, but there it
becomes cloud)'. In the middle ages it was besieged several
times, and twice in the seventeenth century. As the town had
taken the side of Conde against Louis XIV. the king made
himself master of it and then destroyed its fortifications.

Charnay-les-Chalon, below Seurre, is one of the most beautiful
villages on the Saone, partly by the pretty grouping of its
buildings, but especially by the unrivalled richness of its trees,
which form quite classical compositions. The ground, too, is in
itself beautiful with its sloping lawn-like fields, and the river has
almost a lacustrine character here as there is a weir, with a lock

below. The Pilot told us a dreadful story about this beautiful
place. He said that a former mayor having an enmity against
the schoolmaster {itistituteur) had set fire successively to all the
houses in the village except one, as at that time they were
thatched and burned easily. He then accused the schoolmaster
of this incendiarism and got him transported. Later, on his
death-bed, the mayor confessed his crimes, and the school-
master, who was still alive, was declared innocent. He was
released, of course, but he declined to return to the country
where he had suffered such a terrible wrong. The subject has
been successfully dramatised.

Between Charnay and Verdun we had one of those evening
voyages which, when the effects are favourable, delude us with

A Slimmer Voyage.

i/9

wondrous enchantments. As usual, on these occasions, we all
three sat on the quarter-deck, enjoying the rare beauty of the
hour. The effect this evening was not brilliant, but it was full

of charm — a soft decline of day in a grey and delicately tinted
land, where everything was poetical and vague. The village of
Ecuelles, on the right bank, composed admirably with its old
romanesque church, its rustic houses, and its steep little road
coming down to the water, Mr. Pennell said it was like one of the
prettiest of Italian villages. As usual in such cases he was

£cnellcs.

miserable because the merciless tug dragged us past it, so to
console him I suggested the idea of rowing back here the next
day with the Pilot, but with no real intention of encouraging a
re-visit to-morrow that might renew the disappointment of
Ovanches. An impression is not given by a place but by a place

N 2

i8o The Saone.

and an effect together, and the material earth and houses are
like dry bones when the soul that gave them unity is gone.

In this part of the Saone the shores are wooded and steep, with
great curves, and the stream is comparatively narrow. Afterwards
it widens and the shores become flatter.

Nothing could be finer than the turnings of the great train of
boats at the curves of the river, in the twilight, going majestically
on the broad silvery stream between the dark and apparently
distant shores that became more and more mysterious as the
night deepened, with only a thin line of azure hills beyond them
in one direction and nothing in the other. We passed a chain
of flat islands that looked unutterably desolate and dreary.
There was a warm light in the sky, and by the time we reached
the basin above the lock at Verdun the stars were reflected in the
calm water. Here the train of boats came to a standstill,
and it was not long before sleep reigned from stem to stern of
the Bonssemroum.

A Summer Voyage. 181

LETTER XXXII.

Verdun, Ju?ie 291k.

The first event in the morning after our arrival at Verdun was
a great quarrel between the Belgian bargeman on the peniche
and the crew of the steam-tug. It was due, in the first place,
to the foreigner's misunderstanding of the customs prevalent on
the Saone, and in the second to the mere fact that he was a
foreigner.

When a boat forms part of a train it is evident that the barge-
man may, if he chooses, remain inactively on board, but a custom
of mutual help prevails on the Saone by which the men on all
the boats are expected to offer their services at certain times,
as when locks are passed and there is hard labour in separating
and re-forming the train. On all such occasions I am represented
by the Pilot, whose mighty strength and merry goodwill make
him one of the most popular men on the river ; but that unlucky
Belgian had remained all day on board his own boat, and he had
not even done his duty well on that, so two men from the steamer
were sent to belay the towing cables better. He was impolitic
enough to protest against their presence as an intrusion, and to
assert that he was master on his own boat, which was a technical
error as when a boat forms part of a train the entire train is
commanded by the captain of the tug, who can send men where-
ever he thinks they may be needed. The two powerful fellows
who had come to belay the cable were not men to accept a slight,
and they gave the Belgian the benefit of a thorough Saone
scolding, threatening to throw him into the river, which at one

1 82 The Sadne.

moment they seemed quite likely to do. The scene was grandly
Homeric as an expression of strong men's wrath and scorn, and
it interested me as a study of primitive manners. The men came
on board the piniche repeatedly for their work, and I noticed that
when they were in personal contact with the Belgian the quarrel
flagged, but when they stood on another boat it regained its
vigour, and the voices their loudness. Of course they called the
unlucky man a Prussian, to which he answered with more courage
than prudence, " I am not a Prussian, I am a Belgian, but the
Prussians arc better than you think. You do not know the
Prussians," a word in favour of the enemy that had the effect of
petroleum in a conflagration. At last his wife was so ill-advised
as to interfere. A woman of good nerve, she calmly told the
Frenchmen that they were very rude and brutal, but she un-
expectedly met her match. One of them turned to her with
quite an altered manner, showing that he had his temper well
under command, and he uttered these words deliberately : " This
is not a place for a woman. What has a woman to do on board
a boat ? Your proper place is in a house on land, and you ought
to be there, minding your own work and bringing up your
children." Rough as they were, these men were hearty good
fellows, but they had an unaffected contempt for a man who
shirked his work, and that natural hostility to foreigners which
exists among the common people everywhere.

I was sorry not to have an opportunity for explaining to the
Belgian where his mistake lay, as our boats immediately
separated. 1 He was one of those unfortunate mortals who lack
heartiness and openness of manner, a fatal deficiency on the

1 He had spoken English to me with a strong London accent, leaving no doubt
about the place where he had picked it up.

A Summer Voyage. 183

Saone, where a frank readiness to offer and accept services is
the prevalent characteristic of the people.

After passing the lock I had the Bonssemroiim warped across
to the mouth of the Doubs, and moored her in its green, bright
waters in the morning of a splendid day.

The effect of a lake upon the mind depends upon what you
see, that of a river on what you know. I could not see the waters
of the Doubs at Verdun without thinking of all its beautiful
course from the frontier of Switzerland to Besancon, and from
Besancon to Verdun. It is one of the loveliest streams in France,
but not classed as navigable, except from Vougeaucourt, a village

\ — — - — 1 — 5> — '^Hof

Wk 1

Verdun, the Ferry
from the Is/ana.

on the extreme east of the department of the Doubs to Dole, in
Jura. During this distance of about fifty-four miles, it is made
use of by the canal from the Rhone to the Rhine, and canalised
on exactly the same principles as the Upper Saone ; in other
words, its bed is used whenever possible, with short links of
lateral canal from time to time. The navigable part of the river
passes through the beautiful valley above Besancon. I have
never attempted to ascend it from Verdun to Dole as the voyage
would be impracticable for my boats. 1

x A light rowing boat, manned by four strong young men, can just accomplish this
ascent. It was done in 1SS2, but not easily, by a four-oared gig from Lyons,

1 84

TJie Saone.

This is the second of the three most important confluences on
the Saone which are, with the Coney at Corre, the Doubs at
Verdun, and the Rhone at Lyons. In each of these cases the
volume of water is doubled.

At the junction of the Doubs and the Saone there is a beauti-
ful island adorned with most graceful masses of foliage. The
views of the island from the town, and of the town from the
island, are so interesting that, although there is not much else

at Verdun, a lover of the picturesque might yet be content to
live there. And he would have the contrast of the two rivers — ■
the Saone, sluggish and often opaque, the Doubs, swifter, clearer,
brighter, but less navigable.

Notwithstanding the beauty of the day and of the place, it was
a sad day for us as our friend the Captain was to leave the

Le Quadrille. The rowers found "the navigation extremely difficult, for the river has
many windings, and there are numerous islands amongst which it is not always easy to
select a channel. There are also mill weirs, only to be overcome by carrying your boat.
The current is often very violent, in some places comparable to that of the Rhone."

In the canalised Doubs the navigation, of course, is easy, but there are many locks —
twenty-eight between Dole and Besancon only.

•Si

A Summer Voyage. 1 85

expedition here. He would have gone with us southwards, and
had actually made sacrifices to stay with us so long, but he had
to make a removal that required his personal superintendence.

I said that for the last day he must have a better dejeunef
than the Boiissemroum could give, so we sought out Mother D — ,
who is famous amongst all boating men on the Saone. We
found her at last, a fat woman, shelling peas in the shade.

" Are you Madame D — ? " I inquired, as Madame seemed
more respectful than Mother.

" Anyhow," she replied, " I am a good part of her."

" Then there is enough of you here present for our purposes.
We want dejeuner."

" Yes, I know," she answered imperturbably. " The Inspector
told me so."

" That surprises me, I was not aware that the Inspector could
be so well informed about our intentions."

" Mais," she said, " all these gentlemen have dejeuner together.
You are with the schoolmasters."

The truth was that Mother D — was expecting twenty insti-
tuteurs to dejeuner that day and had quietly concluded that the
Captain, Mr. Pennell, and myself were three French school-
masters. It was the first time that we had been taken for
members of the same learned profession. It gave us quite a new
feeling of brotherhood and elevated us in our own estimation
after being arrested as foreign spies.

I then begged Mother D — to let us have a pauchouse, for
which she is celebrated. Perhaps the inhabitants of London do
not telegraph to Mother D — for pauchouses ready prepared,
but certain Parisians do, and all along the Saone the fame of
them is like that of whitebait at Greenwich. A paucJiouse is

i86

The Saoue.

composed of different kinds of fish and served in an abundant
soup-like sauce on buttered croutons. It is an intermediate in-
vention between the matelotte of the Lower Saone and the
bouille-abaisse of Provence. Red wine is not used in it as in the

-Av*>

'.* !Wu.'!,'V

W '* J .-'-,

T*> 1

''1 **

■ 1

-■■- ■ A Corner in Verdun.

matelotte, nor saffron as in the bouille-abaisse. White Burgundy
is used, and the dish has a pale, golden colour, with an extremely
delicate flavour. It is one of those excellent inventions, that
have been found out by the common people. Neither pauchouse,

A Summer Voyage. 187

nor matelotte, nor bouille-abaisse, was discovered by Parisian cooks
or gourmets. The common fishermen on the Saone and the
Rhone found these things out long ago. With their different
kinds of fish, a bottle of white or red wine, some fresh butter
from the nearest farm, some crusts of bread, and an acute
culinary genius, those poor unknown men made their immortal
discoveries. 1

The Captain left by the afternoon train. We all accompanied
him to the station. The Patron and the Pilot carried his small
trunk, the boy his valise. He had a kind word for everybody on
leaving, and everybody was a little affected at the separation.
Franki could not endure it, but left the station by himself before
the train came, and we noticed that he was wiping his eyes with
the back of his hand.

"Monsieur Amandon," 2 said the Pilot to me, "you will weep
also."

" Pilot," I answered, " an Englishman never weeps, but when
I get back to the Boussemroum, and see the Captain's tent
empty, it is not impossible that my eyes may be just a little
moist."

1 All the boatmen on the Saone take an intelligent interest in the culinary art, and
many of them excel in it. They know by tradition a considerable number of really
excellent dishes, and they live quite as comfortably as any yachtsman need wish to live.
Having been familiar with the opposite extreme of culinary ignorance and in-
competence amongst the Scottish Highlanders, and also amongst some French
peasants, I must say that the Saone boatmen have the best of it. In a wandering life a
knowledge of cookery is independence. Without it you must either eat at the inns or
live miserably when at a distance from them.

2 My real name, in any pronunciation, was beyond the powers of both Pilot and
Patron. At first they called me Ermenton, and afterwards, for some unknown reason,
they invented Amandon, and used the two indifferently, as they found by experience
that I answered to both. I think Amandon is rather a pretty name, prettier than my
real one.

1 88 The Sadne.

We have a feeling as if the whole expedition had collapsed
with the Captain's departure. No human being could be more
perfectly adapted to the share he took both in the business and
the pleasure of the voyage. His watchful management left me
without a care, free to give all my thoughts to my own work, and
in my hours of rest and recreation he was always the same
cheerful friend and companion. I hope and believe he enjoyed
the voyage ; as for the little hardships and inconveniences of our
life on the Boussemroum, he only laughed at them.

" Monsieur Amandon," said the Patron to me when we got
back to the boat after the Captain had left us, " it did me good
to hear him and you always talking so pleasantly and merrily at
table. How happy you were together, and how well you
agreed, and how you always knew how to say the word that
would make him laugh ! "

The possibility of a disagreement between the Captain and
me is so utterly unthinkable that I must have seemed unable to
understand what the Patron was saying, so he went on : —

" What a pity it is that it should be so different with us here
in our cabin ! "

This is delicious ! — the Patron laments the discord which is all
his own making. I seized the opportunity and argued in favour
of the Pilot throwing in a word of blame to make the rest
acceptable. I even flattered the Patron by pointing out that
there was a difference of education, and that it was for him, as
the better educated man, to be tolerant of the faults of the other.
Then he frankly admitted that the Pilot was a good fellow ; but
we shall see how he takes an order from him to-morrow.

Mr. Pennell and I visited the church. It has round-arched
windows with stained glass, and a vast nave, quite realising the

A Summer Voyage. 189

old idea of la nef(th.e ship 1 ). It is all of wood with tie-beams,
one vertical post resting on each beam, the whole of the arch
being boarded. It is exactly like a ship turned upside down
with the apse for a prow. On the altar were many candles
glittering, yet not enough to dissipate the gloom in the great
dark apse, on one side of which a black-robed priest sat silent in
his stall, turning over a leaf of a large volume at almost regular
intervals, this turning of the leaves being the only motion or
sound in the whole edifice. There was an old-world quietness and
solemnity in all this, full of repose for the mind after the noise

The Bridge at Verdun.

of modern life, or even after the mere echo of it in the news-
papers.

On setting out for our evening walk we met two priests, who
took off their hats with the greatest politeness, a salute that
we returned ceremoniously. We met them a second time on our
return, and then we took care to be the first to salute. After
being treated as liars and spies we appreciate a mark of respect.

The evening was exquisitely still and beautiful, and we went
to the suspension bridge over the Saone, from which we gazed a
long time on the smooth, broad river, silvered here and there by
faint breezes, and going far away into a misty distance, not a

1 The French crusaders always called a ship a uef. Our own word nave is nearer
the Latin navis, but only etymologists remember that it means a ship.

190 The Saone.

boat on the whole expanse of it except one creeping close to
the shore with a woman sitting in it and a man poling, silent dark
figures as in a picture.

LETTER XXXIII.

Chalon, June 30//2.

Yesterday, June 29th, we had a fresh instance of the spy
disquietude amongst the authorities. I had gone with Mr.
Pennell to the island and left him there sketching. On my
return to the Boussemroum, I found a gendarme in full uniform
and two men in civil costume standing close to the boat and
evidently waiting for me. One of the civilians presented himself
as the Justice of the Peace, and said that the other civilian was
the greffier. 1 He asked to see my papers, and required an
explanation of the fact that we were making plans, and of the
general purposes of our voyage.

It is wonderful how rapidly we get accustomed to new
situations. I have no doubt that if a man could be guillotined
twice, the second time it would seem to him a trifling matter. I
am already accustomed to being arrested as a spy, which gives
me a great advantage. " My position," I said, " Mr. Justice of
the Peace, is somewhat complicated, but I hope you will soon
understand it. I have been arrested already at Pontailler as a spy,
and at once applied by telegraph, through a Prefect, to the Minister
of War, who accorded me his protection, yet I have nothing to
produce in proof of it." This, in fact, was the peculiar embarrass-

1 Something like a Town Clerk.

A Stimmer Voyage. 191

ment of my position. If I said I was not protected I told a
falsehood, and if I said I was I seemed to be telling one, which,
as the world goes, is considered a hundred times worse.

I was then questioned rather closely and my answers were
taken down by the greffier. The gendarme meanwhile contented
himself with looking on, not discourteously, but ready to arrest
me when the Justice of the Peace should give the order. At
length it occurred to me that perhaps if I showed the very brief
telegram I had received from the Prefect of the Lower Alps it
would at least prove that I had been in communication with the
authorities, so I proposed to fetch it from the saloon. The
Justice at once eagerly assented to this, and I perceived that he
wished to penetrate into the interior of the Boussemroiim. A
moment's reflection convinced me that it would be imprudent to
allow this. The telegram was in my table-bureau. I could not
open that piece of furniture without displaying a quantity of
manuscripts and memoranda, with maps and a mariner's
compass, quite enough to arouse the suspicion of a Frenchman
in these times, especially as the writings were in an unknown
tongue. 1 I therefore went on board as fast as I could, and found
to my dismay (there being not a moment to lose) that the
Patron had laid the cloth for dejeuner, and all the things upon it.
I had to remove these and find the telegram before the Justice
could get in, and I knew he was following me. But here an
unforeseen hindrance told effectually in my favour. His worship
was a corpulent man, and the only access to the galley was by
passing the hut on the narrow gunwale. My visitor found this

1 Since then I see that a traveller has been arrested as a spy in Brittany and im-
prisoned by order of the Procurator, the evidences of his guilt being that he had maps
and a mariner's compass!

192 The Sao tie.

passage very difficult, and soon the greffier and the gendarme,
anxious for his safety, implored him to desist. I deeply regret
to have missed this little scene, which must have been worthy of
Charles Lever.

The telegram was as follows : —

-t>*

" TransHiets tcttgramme Ministre Prtfet Doubs!'

It did not prove very much, but was accepted as evidence that
I was not unknown to the authorities. After this I had a short
but agreeable conversation with the Justice of the Peace, and he
kindly recommended me, on arriving at a town, to go at once to
the mayor and tell him who I was. " By taking this simple
precaution," he said, "you will in future avoid all annoyance." I
thanked him for his advice, which we shall certainly follow at
Chalon, and we parted with the utmost politeness on both sides.
The magistrate offered an apology for having disturbed us, but
I answered that I was by this time clearly aware of the vigilance
required by the new law.

Mr. Pennell had come back from his sketching in the midst of
the colloquy. " I cannot understand," he said, "how you have
the patience to go on reasoning with those men and answering
all their questions." The truth is that interviews like those at
Pontailler and Verdun are games of patience, and if you lose
your temper you go to prison. 1

1 A newspaper correspondent at Verdun sent the following paragraph about us to
the Chalon newspapers, from which it was copied by those of Macon and Lyons : — ■

" Verdun sur le Doubs. — Trois individus, un Anglais, un Americain, et un ancien
officier francais residant en Alsace, ont ete surpris levant le plan du barrage de la
Saone, celui de la ville et des rives du Doubs et de la Saone. Interroges par les
autorites locales, ils ont declare etre charges d'une mission topographique (we said
nothing of the kind) n'avoir pas de papiers, et etre autorises par le Ministere de la

A Summer Voyage. 193

After the civil authorities came the ecclesiastical. The two
priests who had so politely saluted us the evening before
approached the Boussemroum in a manner that implied curiosity
mingled with discretion. I therefore went to meet them, and
invited them to come on board and inspect our habitations.
They were greatly interested in all the details of our establish-
ment, and rather surprised by the comfort of that saloon which
the magistrate had missed. Mr. Pennell kindly brought his
drawings out of their hiding place. Our new friends — them-
selves untouched by the spy mania — were mightily amused by
the history of our adventure at Pontailler, and the visit of the
authorities at Verdun. Such is the opening effect of sym-
pathy and kindness, that these two gentle ecclesiastics learned
more about us and our labours in half an hour than the

Guerre. Le brigadier de la gendarmerie de Verdun est parti immediatement pour
Chalon demander des instructions a ses chefs et au parquet. Tout porte a croire que
ce sont des espions."

I need hardly observe that we did not draw the weir at Verdun, which no artist
would think of drawing.

A few days later, a Macon paper spoke of us quite positively as spies. A boat
passed that place, drawn by a horse, and of a shape not common on the Saone. The
name of this boat was painted upon it in foreign characters, and three men on board
spoke a foreign language, which' (of course) was German. " Cet incident," continued
the Macon newspaper, " est a rapprocher de l'arrestation de trois espions a Verdun
sur le Doubs, occupes a lever les rives de la Saone."

On the appearance of the first paragraph a military friend of mine was seriously
asked if it were true. " Certainly," he replied, " but the case is even worse than it
has been represented. Mr. Hamerton tried to force the stockade at Verdun in order
to ascend the Doubs to ascertain whether, in case of war, the German artillery could
not be brought down the Saut du Doubs." This is a celebrated waterfall over a
vertical precipice on the Swiss frontier, in the wildest part of the river ; however,
such is the ready credulity of people during the prevalence of a spy mania, that the
victim of this prodigious pleasantry believed and spread it abroad. I need hardly
add that there is no stockade at Verdun, and that the Boussemroum is not a steam-
ram to break through obstacles.

194 The Sao lie.

gendarmes could ever have extracted from us with all their
questions.

After their departure I told the Pilot to take the Boussemroum
to Chalon, and start immediately. As we had no other motive
power than Zoulou, the Pilot said it would be necessary to take
another man to hold a rope's end and manage the boat. By the
time we were in motion I observed that this man had become two,
but the Pilot informed me that the second was the son of the
first, and would be content with a present. I had decided to let
the Pilot have his own way in everything that day, as I was
curious to see how he proposed to manage the Boussemroum on
the Lower Saone.

,-, mm

The men began by towing the boat themselves. An attempt
was made to land Zoulou, but he objected so strongly (as his
plank went down into the water) that he had to be left in his
stable. Afterwards he landed on the firm bank of the river.

The wind would have been delightful for a sailing-boat. The
distance to Chalon, sixteen miles, would have been a run of two
or three hours under canvas, but with the Boussemroum such a
wind is an enemy. At first we went along sideways, in-
dependently of the men on shore, afterwards we were pushed
against the right bank, which, fortunately, was soft in these parts
with an abundance of rushes, so the boat did not stick fast as in
the adventure above Gray, but rubbed along with enormous
friction, the devoted Pilot standing at his post and receiving the
thrusts of his pole in the chest, lance-like, after the good old

A Summer Voyage. 19:

manner. I need not add that our progress was as slow as it
was painful. The men on shore worked most devotedly, and so
did Franki and Zoulou.

Meanwhile I sat in my arm-chair in the saloon and meditated.
My crew had been increased already at Corre by the addition of
Franki, and here were two men more, making five in all, and we
were accomplishing an average speed of about two miles an hour,
without any of the pleasures of boating ; on the contrary, it was
misery to me to see the water rippled by such a fine sailing-
breeze and know that I had a sailing-boat lying idle at Chalon.
Here were we scraping along the bank, travelling literally with
the greatest possible friction, when anything that could carry

canvas would have been going freely and merrily in mid-stream.
The result of my reflections was, that the berrichon should stop
at Chalon, and the crew be paid off, whilst the remainder of
the voyage should be done on my own boat, the Avar}

This being settled I offered Mr. Pennell a place on the Arar, but
he honestly told me that, although he had taken part in a yachting
expedition, he was not a practical sailor. Neither Franki nor the
Pilot knows anything about sailing, so I determined to postpone

1 The men could be discharged at Chalon without any breach of contract on my
part. The contract was that I hired the berrichon and men for one month at least,
and as much more as I chose to keep them, subject to the condition of bringing them
back to the port of Chalon. Our arrival at this town left me, therefore, quite at liberty
to terminate the engagement, but I could not have done so at Lyons, even if I had
kept the Boussemroum a month longer.

O 2

196

The Saone.

the voyage of the Avar till I could have my own trained crew,
which is composed of my eldest son and a nephew. It was
finally decided that Mr. Pennell would visit the Lower Saone by
himself, making use of the public steamer.

In consequence of this decision the rest of our voyage from
Verdun to Chalon at once took a new character for us, and had
rather a melancholy interest. With all their faults we had
become attached to the Bonssemroitm and its crew, so that the
last day on board seemed like the last in an old home. By
an illusion common to all great changes in one's manner of life,

A Haystack.

our residence on the Boussemroum, from its novelty, had appeared
much longer than the days marked on the almanack. To me it
seemed three months since I had slept on shore.

The scenery between Verdun and Chalon is of a kind that is
always pronounced uninteresting, but to me it is interesting from
the extreme purity of its character, a purity that nothing mars.
I always enjoy a strongly peculiar kind of scenery, whatever it
is, provided there is nothing discordant. Here you have a
broad, tranquil, almost currentless river, reach after reach of it,
between soft green pastures, and with so few trees that the winds
blow freely on its waters. Amidst these pastures, sometimes near

A Summer Voyage.

197

the water, sometimes at a little distance, are quiet, prosperous
looking villages, no longer with the fine character of those on the
Upper Saone, but cheerful with all the evidences of well-being,
all the houses and churches having a look of newness and of

==^^^ ^ M -^^s^^j^ s^&e^d^

Gergy.

good repair. The appearance of such a village, from a distance,
is usually that of a thin line of white houses stretching on the
green plain like an encampment, and crowned by the inevitable
church steeple. One of them, Verjux, is connected with a
romantic page of contemporary history. Some years ago a poor
girl left that village as a laundress, and finally found herself in
Paris, where she married a shopkeeper who afterwards died, and
she' now keeps the shop.

A Village in the Plain.

" Well," you will think, " my correspondent must be lamentably
at a loss for materials to tell me such a commonplace story as
that, and call it romantic ! Such things happen every day."
Yes, but there are small shopkeepers and great ones, just as

198 The Saone.

there are little bankers and the Rothschilds. The young
laundress of Verjux is to-day the queen of all the shopkeepers
in the world, and maintains her royalty after a fashion of her
own. She is famous for three things — her wonderful business
abilities, her prodigious wealth, and her untiring kindness of
heart. Her shop is as vast as a Ministry of State, and probably
requires at least as much ability for its government, her coffers
are like a king's treasury, and her kindness rains benefits on all
around her. 1 She revisits, occasionally, the banks of the Saone on
her way to her Mediterranean villa. I wonder if the Parisian
lady can recall to memory the hopes and anxieties of the poor
young laundress of Verjux !

Like Verjux, on the left bank of the river is the village of
Alleriot, that I mention because it is near a small hill, where
formerly stood the Chateau Gaillard. The Seine was not the
only river with a castle so proudly named, though I am not
aware that history has anything to tell of the vanished Chateau
Gaillard on the Saone. It has not been associated with such
great events as the proud stronghold of King Richard that looks
down upon Little Andelys.

As we passed Alleriot, and for some time previously, the wind

1 The lady alluded to in the text is Madame Boucicaut of the Bon Marcke. Whilst
these pages are in the press I hear of another of her good deeds. She has just given
four millions of francs to the benefit fund of her employes, in addition to one million
already given for the same purpose, and half a million for extra expenses. These
large sums are talked of in the papers, but I have often heard, in conversation, of
most efficacious help given by her quite unostentatiously to persons or institutions
that she considered deserving. The best feature in her benevolence is not so much
its vastness of scale as a thoughtful anxiety to produce the happiest results.

I add a line to this foot-note to say that since it was written Madame Boucicaut has
undertaken to erect a bridge over the Saone at Verjux, which will cost her about

/"2O.O0O.

A Summer Voyage.

199

had ceased, and the calm of evening had fallen upon the land-
scape. Poor Zoulou drew the Boussemroum with little difficulty,
encouraged by Franki's cheery cry. Mr. Pennell and I sat on
the deck with the distant view of Chalon before us, curiously
reminding us of the approach to Paris by the Seine. The
cathedral at Chalon has twin towers, which in the evening, and
at a distance, may recall Notre Dame, and there are domes
at Chalon as in the capital. With her many lights, and the

.♦ji-tM

Allh-iot.

mystery of evening, Chalon had an appearance of vastness that
impressed my fellow-traveller. There is no approach to a city
that impresses one like coming slowly towards it on a broad and
tranquil river in the late evening, when the stars are brightening
in the sky, and the lamps show as little golden specks amidst the
dark, uncountable houses, domes and towers rising in a stately
way as landmarks above the confusion and the mystery. Then
the lights brighten as we approach, they trail in long reflections
upon the water, the houses seem taller and darker, the arches of

2oo The Saone.

the bridge become distinguishable, and the Pilot makes up his
mind where he will moor his vessel.

It was not without mingled emotions of satisfaction and
rearet that we knew when the slow motion of the Boussemroum

fc>

had ceased. Zoulou was brought on board, the Captain's tent
was occupied by one of the new men, and Mr. Pennell used his
for the last time. We were close to a band that played for
dancers at the fair. It kept me awake in my hammock for a
few minutes, during which I went through a short examen de
conscience. " Have I done well," I asked myself, " to hire the
Boussemroum for this voyage ? " The answer was a decided
" Yes, you have done wisely and well." The next question was,
" Shall I ever hire a berrichon again ? " and the answer came,
with equal decision," Never another berrichon ! " I leave you to
reconcile the contradiction if you can. For me it was soon
reconciled in sleep.

LETTER XXXIV.

Autun, July 10/h.

When the Boussemroum expedition had come to an end, the
Mayor and Sub-Prefect of Chalon kindly gave Mr. Pennell a safe
conduct, which made him independent of gendarmes within the
limits of the sous-prefecture, and he was recommended to the Mayor
of Tournus. At Macon he might consider himself safe also
as the Prefect knew our history, but near Lyons the case was
different, so we recommended him to take his safe conduct to
the Prefecture there and try to get a visa with permission to

A Summer Voyage. 201

sketch. This being refused, Mr. Pennell returned northwards
and observed that, whether by accident or design, there was
a gendarme in the same railway carriage. It had been believed
by the authorities at Chalon that with their recommendation
there could be no difficulty at Lyons. The result showed the
extreme stringency with which the recent law is enforced.

Evidently, under the circumstances, Mr. Pennell could not
work in that very interesting part of the Saone which is within
a myriametre (six miles and one-fifth) of the detached forts that
are themselves far in advance of Lyons, in fact, it was not safe
for him to work much below Macon. It was therefore im-
possible for Mr. Pennell to complete his task. The intense —
almost intolerable — heat was another obstacle. Mr. Pennell
had exposed himself to the full glare of the sun during a long
walk between Tournus and Macon which had produced bad
effects, and he returned to England to recruit. 1

Franki had been engaged as Mr. Pennell's personal servant to
accompany him down the river. The lad was better dressed
than before, and his new master gave him a fine hat. Franki had
also acquired the art of brushing his hair, and even of parting
it, wherein he attained a temporary success by a plentiful
application of pure water. As soon as the water dried the
strong and vigorous crop resumed its ancient ways.

The Patron did not take Franki into permanent service as a
donkey-driver, so after his short engagement with Mr. Pennell

1 Mr. Pennell needed rest for another reason. He had worked too much on the
Upper Saone. I never met with an artist who equalled him in industry, but, although
I sometimes told him that he was doing more than his duty required, the Upper
Saone had such an attraction for him that he was led to overwork himself by the pure
artistic passion. An interval of rest was therefore necessary. He soon recovered in
England.

202

The Saone.

the lad returned to his mother at Jonvelle, where no doubt he
has narrated the voyage of the Bonssemroum in terms more
lively than these letters. I cannot give you any recent news
of the Patron. When last I saw him he was in a rage, probably
because I had submitted his pecuniary demands to arbitration.
After the settlement of these he wanted to do a little business
by selling me the Boussemroum for ^24. It had originally
cost ;£i20, but the bargain tempted me not. Our expedition
was the last of the Patron's voyages. He intends to pass
the remnant of his days on land, somewhere in George Sand's
country.

My last glimpse of Zoulou was when the Boussemroum, all
my things having been removed, was taken back into the canal.
Zoulou pushed the door of his stable open, according to his
wont, and observed the scene that was familiar to him with
an expression of tranquil satisfaction. After a minute of
contemplation he allowed the door to close, and I beheld his
intelligent countenance no more.

Zoulou's Farewell.

A Summer Voyage. 203

LETTER XXXV.

Autun, August 2$th.

Since my last letter I have been endeavouring to obtain from
the French authorities a kind of passport, giving permission to
sketch, with the following result.

The authorities, from the French War Office downwards,
have been uniformly most courteous, and I willingly acknow-
ledge that I have been treated with the consideration due to
the subject of a friendly Sovereign. Not one of my letters has
been left without a reply, and in every instance the reply has
been considerate. Nevertheless, whilst fully appreciating the
form of these communications, I have, at the same time, had the
opportunity of admiring the extreme skill with which the
different French authorities parried all my attempts to procure,
directly or indirectly, anything resembling a written permission
to draw.

Let me admit at once that in my view the Government of
a country has a right to forbid drawing if it pleases. An artist
has no property' in the landscapes of a country that he visits —
certainly a foreign artist can have no claims whatever. A
Frenchman might perhaps think it a hardship not to be
permitted to draw the landscapes of his native land.

I have always been quite willing to obey any interdiction
coming from the higher authorities. They had only to say,
" Drawing from nature is not permitted to foreigners in France,"
and I was ready to go elsewhere.

They have, however, very carefully avoided any interdiction

204 The Saone.

of this kind, and they have taken equal care not to grant
any explicit permission to draw. I therefore still remain
exposed to the penalty of a year's imprisonment with a
fine of a thousand francs if I draw within " un rayon d'un
myriametre autour d'une place forte, d'un poste, ou d'un
etablissement militaire ou maritime a partir des ouvrages
avances." 1

Now it so happens that all the river Saone, from a point
about two miles above Trevoux — in other words, all the most
beautiful part of the Saone — is within a myriametre 2 either of
the fort on the Mont d'Or, or of the forts on the outskirts of
Lyons. If I draw at all in that part of the river everything
will depend upon the interpretation of my drawings. Are they
operations de topograpJiie ? Yes, and no. An artist's drawing
is not really topographic, but it may easily be described as such,
and he cannot prove that it is not. I do not see any legal
issue from the difficulty.

In case of arrest, therefore, I have nothing to rely upon but
the British ambassador's passport and a special recommendation
from our Charge d' Affaires written in the French language for
the gendarmes. But the law of 1886 does not say that a
passport is sufficient. On the contrary, it expressly requires an
" autorisation de l'autorite militaire ou maritime."

There is, however, in the correspondence of different French
authorities with me a kind of unexpressed permission. They
will not give a licence to draw, but they know that I am going
to draw, and they do not forbid it. The Minister of the
Interior and the Prefect of Saone-et-Loire have recommended

1 Loi du 18 Avril, 1886.

2 Ten thousand metres (about six miles and one fifth).

A Slimmer Voyage. 205

me to carry a passport. The Chef de Cabinet at the War Office
has told me that the Prefect of the Lower Alps is empowered
to facilitate my studies. The Prefect, however, will not venture
to assume this responsibility outside of his own department,
which is not traversed by the Saone.

My position is perfectly clear. I shall be liable to arrest,
and legally liable to a year's imprisonment, but as I am known
at the War Office and the Ministry of the Interior, and also
to several Prefects, I shall, if arrested, be speedily released.
To be arrested and detained for a day, as at Pontailler, is not a
very terrible misfortune, but it is an annoyance. Even to have
to answer a long interrogatory by a Justice of the Peace, as
at Verdun, is a trial of patience and a waste of time. Worse
than this, the gendarmes in a country place may take you with
them to a town before your innocence is established.

LETTER XXXVI.

Chalon-sur-Saone,
August 2$th.

You will remember that this is the place where the voyage of
the Boussemronm came to an end. I am now making arrange-
ments for the second voyage, that of my own boat, the Arar,
which is to travel over the Lower Saone from Chalon to the
lie Barbe, immediately above Lyons.

My former companions and crew are all dispersed. Captain
Kornprobst is far in the north-east, in the department of the Meuse,
where he is very busily occupied in fishing and boat-building.

2o6 The S aone.

Mr. Pennell is drawing English cathedrals, and the crew of the
Boussemroum are scattered I know not where. Those who lived
together on that vessel, so strangely associated with their different
ages, different occupations, different nationalities, are separated
never to meet again, and that voyage seems hardly real, even to
me, who remember all the details of it so clearly, but I
remember them like the details of a dream. To convince
myself of its reality I have to refer to some place such as Chemilly
or Port-sur-Saone and ask myself how I came to know that
place so well. Even my presence at Chalon makes the voyage
more difficult to realise. The Boussemroum is neither by the
quay nor in the canal, not even the big Pilot is here to connect
the present with the past.

The crew of the Avar is with me here. It is composed of my
eldest son, Stephen, aged twenty-seven, and my nephew,
Maurice Pelletier, aged eighteen. They are both very strong
and active young men, excellent swimmers, and ready for any
emergency on a boat. As they are well acquainted with the
Avar and her peculiarities, they make a more efficient crew than
two sailors of greater general experience. For this particular
reason, although they are only amateurs, the voyage will go
more smoothly with them than with any professional boatmen.
After the noisy and rebellious disposition of the Patron, I look
forward with pleasure to the silent alacrity with which every-
thing is done on board our little schooner.

The Avar is not yet quite ready for sea— or river— sne has
been lying here for nearly a year, and has to be put in sailing
order. New cordage is amongst her requirements, and whilst
Stephen is splicing his ropes— for we have to do our own rio-cring-
here— I will give you some account of Chalon, which was left

A Summer Voyage.

207

entirely and purposely undescribed during the voyage of the
Boussemroum.

In its present condition Chalon strikes the visitor as being a
very modern town with but few remnants of the Middle Ages,
and nothing whatever of Roman times. There was, however,
an important Gaulish town here before Caesar came to the place.
It cannot have presented any architectural splendours, as the
architecture of the Gauls was limited to low houses with
thatched roofs, in fact, it was scarcely more advanced than that

The Bridge from the North.

of the Central African tribes of to-day. But the Gauls knew
how to erect very strong fortifications of a kind that is well
known to us, composed of earthworks, stones without mortar,
and logs of wood ingeniously placed and nailed together, a
composite work that had really a formidable power of resistance.
A Gaulish city, though poor in appearance, might be by no
means despicable as a storing place for provisions, and we know
that Caesar made use of Chalon for this purpose.

As for the first beginnings of the Gaulish city nothing is
known because the Gauls had no historians, but we may

208 The Saonc.

legitimately suppose that the embryo of a riverside city would
be a pre-historic fishing village. There are two islands opposite
Chalon, the Saone being divided into three channels here, or we
might describe it as a broad basin in which two islands are situated.
If these existed in pre-historic times it is probable that they
determined the choice of the site, just as Paris is now situated
where it is because there are islands in the Seine. When the
insular habitations became crowded the town would extend to
the mainland, and spread itself there.

After the Roman occupation the Gaulish town was replaced
by the Gallo-Roman city of Cabillonum. The size of Cabillonum
is well known, as the local architects have traced its walls, indeed
a Roman wall existed still as the defence of the town so recently
as the fifteenth century, though at that time it had become
much dilapidated, and was replaced by a new fortification of a
greater circumference. Some fragments of this wall are still in
existence, hidden amongst the modern houses, but there are no
visible Roman antiquities except in the museum ; there is nothing
at Chalon to compare with the long Roman wall and the gates still
existing at Autun, or with the yet grander remains at Aries and
Nimes. We have some historical evidence that there were fine
public buildings in Cabillonum, and there is good archaeo-
logical evidence of Roman country houses in the neighbourhood,
villas adorned with marbles and mosaics. Cabillonum was used
as a quarry when the mediaeval Chalon was substituted for it,
and some of its adornments were carried to a distance, for
example, M. Niepce tells us that in iooi "the Abbot William
collected, amongst the Roman remains at Chalon, a quantity of
rare marbles, with which he built the rotunda of St. Benigne at
Dijon."

A Summer Voyage. 209

There is one tradition of classic times still preserved in the
hearts of the Chalonese. They venerate the memory of the
Emperor Probus, which may induce the reader to believe that
probity, bravery, and moderation are particularly held in honour
at Chalon. They may be so, but the especial reason why Probus,
" vere probus," is honoured on the banks of the Saone is because
by his encouragement the vine was first cultivated here. M.
Niepce says that the Chalonese are not yet grateful enough to
their Imperial benefactor, that they ought to rebuild the altars
of Bacchus and sacrifice a white heifer, and set up a statue to
Probus, whilst shattering that of Domitian, who uprooted the
vines under pretext that the heads of the Chalon folks were hot
enough by natural constitution.

Our railways lead us to undervalue the ancient arrangements
for communication, but such a place as Cabillonum was almost
as well situated in Roman times as it is to-day. It was the
northern head of the river navigation extending to Aries ; it
was the seat of the river superintendent, 1 and for land traffic it
was exactly at the intersection of two important roads.

I have already mentioned the interesting fact that two towns
on the Saone, Auxonne and Trevoux, have been at one period
of their history capitals of small independent States. A third
town on the same river, Chalon, has also been a capital, but of
a very great and important State. After Hlotair's death (A.D.
561) his empire was divided, and Burgundy was the share of his
son, Gontran. The Burgundian kingdom of the sixth century
was vastly more extensive than the Burgundian duchy of a later
period. From north to south it included Sens and Avignon, if not
Aries ; on the west it included part of the Loire, and on the east

1 Praefectus navium araricarum.

2io TJic Sao tic.

it embraced the lakes of Geneva and Neuchatel and extended
almost to the glacier of the Rhone. This kingdom was about
the size of England, and Chalon was its capital. Augustin
Thierry, in his delightful Recits des Temps Merovingiens, tells us
a propos of King Gontran one of the best stories that have come
down to us from the Middle Ages. Haribert, King of Paris, and
brother of Gontran, having died unexpectedly when away from
home, his wife Theodehild consulted her own interests by laying
hands on the royal treasure, and, recommending herself by so
rich a dowry, offered herself in marriage to King Gontran, who
seemed delighted by the charming proposal. " By all means,"
was the message he sent in answer ; " let Queen Theodehild
come to Chalon with her treasure, and on her arrival I will
marry her, and she shall be a greater queen than ever." The
august widow, on receiving this reply, set forth at once from
Paris to Chalon with her well-stored baggage waggons, and
when she arrived the contents were carefully inventoried and
put in store. Then said the king to his councillors : " Would it
not be better that this treasure should belong to vie rather than
to this woman who was unworthy to be my brother's wife ? "
Of course they were of the royal opinion, and Gontran forwarded
the lady under escort all the way to a monastery at Aries,
where she was quietly put in seclusion.

Many a fortune-hunter has said to himself, " Ah, if I could
only have the fortune without the lady!" King Gontran
realised this desire. Philosophers tell us that man is always
endeavouring to sever the sweets from the bitters of life, and
never succeeding. Did not Gontran succeed in this ?

Whatever may have been the importance of Cabillonum, and
of the early mediaeval Chalon that was visited by Charlemagne,

A Summer Voyage. 211

that city was entirely destroyed by Lothair a thousand years
ago, and all its inhabitants massacred.

In the early history of mediaeval Chalon we find it governed
by Counts, who were first merely lieutenants of the kings, but
afterwards raised themselves into petty sovereigns. William the
Second, twelfth Count of Chalon, a cruel tyrant, was punished
for his misdeeds in a terrible manner. Being- seated at a high
festival " with a luxury like that of Vitellius or Heliogabalus,"
he was appalled by the arrival of a supernatural visitant, having
the appearance of a man riding a black horse with fiery eyes.
At a sign from this unknown personage the Count left the dai's
and mounted behind him, when the animal immediately rose in
the air and rushed off into infinite space. One cry of despair
from the victim, and he was never more heard or seen, but none
believed that the swift steed had been sent to fetch him to
Paradise.

It is probable that Chalon was never so richly and completely
picturesque as in the fifteenth and sixteenth centuries. As one of
the most important towns in the Duchy of Burgundy, it was
fortified anew with walls and towers, the present cathedral was
finished, and there were fourteen churches, whereas at the present
day there are but two, and one of them is modern. There
existed, also, an old Abbey on the highest ground, and there
was a picturesque fortified bridge across the Saone. If only the
Chalon of those days could have been preserved till the present,
if only it could have been gently and tenderly repaired, and not
destroyed by vandalism and revolution ! By an effort of archi-
tectural science a city of that quality may almost be recon-
structed. Viollet-le-Duc could have made a hard architectural
drawing of some town built with equal richness of fifteenth-

P 2

212

The SaSne.

century invention, and then told us that Chalon was, if not that,
at any rate similar to that. But the difference between all such
resuscitations and the reality is that the sun does not shine upon
them ; the cloud-shadows do not fall upon them ; they do not
take their place in the life of the land and the river. The real
Chalon of those days reflected her hundred towers in the gentle
summer Saone, and in the winter the angry floods washed against
her walls and made her seem like a great stronghold in the sea.

Clialoii, the Bridge, a.d. 1600.

Our desire would be to live near such a city long enough to
see her under a thousand aspects, clear in the splendour of
hottest noon, with her gilded vanes bright against the blue, dark
in the solemnity of the twilight, mysterious under the moon.

In the sixteenth century Chalon was fortified anew by royal
command, to the intense dissatisfaction of the inhabitants, but
the conditions of warfare had changed, and the art of fortifica-
tion with them. After that, the beauty of the mediaeval town

A Summer Voyage.

213

appears to have been gradually more and more completely effaced
till we come to the prosaic modern way of building. Nor has the
Renaissance left any beautiful work as a compensation. There
are old towns in France, such as Blois, for example, where the
Renaissance artists have made it difficult to regret the destruc-
tive change of fashion that made room for them, but it is not so
at Chalon.

m Mam

1 u

■'*- T a

Place du Chdtekt,
Chalon.

On the right hand, as you descend the river towards the bridge,
stand the twin towers of the cathedral, substantial and, alas !
likely to last as examples of modern Gothic. Unhappily a great
material mistake of this kind is never rectified. All the vulear
would cry out if so much excellent masonry, worth so many francs
the square metre, were demolished for a mere question of art. 1

1 The old towers, according to M. Chevrier, were unlike each other and unworthy
of the nave, yet still preferable to these which were erected between 1827 and
185L

214 The Saone.

The interior of the cathedral has been restored, but not
spoiled like the west front. Without deserving a place amongst
the great French cathedrals, it is a fine church of the fifteenth
century. The architecture is simple, and the arches do not
impress the imagination by height, but the capitals are well
carved, and the windows rich in stained glass.

The square before the cathedral which serves as the market-
place must have been perfect with the old front and towers.
Even yet the old gabled houses retain the character they had in
the sixteenth century, and the square is delightful on a fine
morning in summer when the market-women are selling fruit and
vegetables, helping to make a picture full of colour, and rich in
vigorous contrasts of light and dark.

During the last hundred years the destruction of old Chalon
has been accelerated by modern improvements, yet there are still
some relics for those who know where to look for them. At the
back of the cathedral is a courtyard with the Deanery Tower of
the fifteenth century, exquisitely elegant both in general design
and in its details, and close to the base of this tower you enter
two long Gothic galleries, or corridors, meeting at a right
angle.

One of these is now a chapel, but they were formerly an open
cloister looking on a garden or close.

The most remarkable of the mediaeval courtyards is one in
the Rue aux Pretres, with open galleries and a turret. The
galleries are on the first and second stories, and entirely con-
structed in massive oak with good architectural panelling. The
inhabitants increase the beauty of the colour by flowering
plants, and I have seen a delightful effect produced by coloured
clothes that the women hung out to air. There is a tradition not

A Summer Voyage.

215

sustained by any evidence, that Charles the Bold of Burgundy
stayed in this house during his visits to Chalon.

CJialon,

the Deanery Tower.

A few towers are still preserved at Chalon, independently of
the churches. There is La Tour de Coco-Louvrier perched high
on a hidden fragment of Roman wall near the river, and believed
to have been originally a military observatory. 1 There is also

1 Coco-Louvrier was an eccentric personage still living at the beginning of the
present century, a money lender (said to have been also a gold-sweater), who dwelt
in the narrow tower.

2l6

The Saone.

the old belfry tower, preserved when the Hotel de Ville was
destroyed.

A'ue St. Vincent, Chalon.

St. Peter's Church, south of the bridge, is a specimen of ugly
Renaissance built just at the beginning of the eighteenth century.
For me Renaissance architecture roughly classes itself under

A Summer Voyage. 217

three heads. 1. The elegant. 2. The cold. 3. The ugly. The
first I am never weary of admiring, the second chills and repels
me like a stiff corpse, the third produces very mixed feelings,
its ugliness being often made strangely tolerable by qualities of
a merely picturesque order. I should hardly attempt to draw
the elegant Renaissance, it is too beautiful in its delicate accuracy,
nor would any artist care to draw the cold Renaissance, it is too
dull and unrewarding, but the roifgh and ugly Renaissance is
sometimes very tempting if you have a box of water-colours.
This is the character of St. Pierre at Chalon. The lofty domed
church is a good subject in its picturesque, irregular Place, with
houses of all heights and of the most various character. In the
ereatest floods of the Saone, this Place is inundated and the
people go about, not exactly in gondolas, but in flat-bottomed
boats. If there were but gondolas at such times the Place de
l'Hotel de Ville would be a little Venice, and under fine effects it
must present most striking and interesting pictures.

LETTER XXXVII.

Chalon-sur- Saone,

August 27th.

My boat, the Avar, wintered at Chalon last year in charge of
the only sea-sailor in the place, who left her high and dry in a
time of flood, and as river-floods do not occur with the punctu-
ality of ocean-tides, we have been obliged to launch her, not an
easy operation, for the boat was on very rough and irregular
ground. However, being within the inclosure 1 of the Blanzy

1 By the kind permission of M. Morin, who for many years has superintended the
affairs of this important company at Chalon and en the river. Many boating men

218 The Saoiic.

Coal Company, which has a building-yard and a fleet of steam-
tugs and barges, I had only to ask for seven or eight men to
help us. Some of these were very powerful, fine-looking fellows,
so the launch made quite a picture. I was greatly pleased with
the careful and attentive manner in which the men followed my
instructions, and also with their perfect good humour, but the
difficulties only seemed to amuse them. After considerable
effort we moored the boat to a place where the incline was more
regular, and then it went briskly to the water on rollers.

I had occasion to admire the courage of my nephew Maurice.
We found that wasps were numerous about the boat so he dis-
covered a nest under a part of the deck that could be removed.
He took up this part with the nest under it and walked coolly
down to the river, his head in a yellow cloud of wasps. Then
he deliberately plunged the nest in the water and escaped
without one sting.

I need not trouble you with the details of what we had to do
upon the boat. The evil of Chalon is that there are no pro-
fessional builders of sailing boats. Steam-launches are built
here, and even torpedo-boats, but if a little yacht has to be
ricked the owner must do it himself. We are not afraid of the
work, except as a cause of delay. A certain sympathy with
material things is required for work on a boat ; you must love
cordage, and wood, and metal. I have this kind of instinct by
nature, and so has my son Stephen. He has a peculiar affinity
for cordage, and can pass a whole day quite happily in splicing

have had good reason to feel grateful to that gentleman for his unfailing urbanity and
kindness. His thorough knowledge of the English language will make him one of
the readers of this volume, and I am not sorry to have this opportunity for thanking
him. We have never met with anything but civility and attention from the men in
the building-yard, and all our things have been quite safe in their keeping.

A Summer Voyage. 219

ropes ; he can make fishing nets, too, and hammocks, so that
although I select and purchase cordage myself I leave its details
to him. My specialty is more in planing and filing, in short, in
fitting things, and in seeing that everything will act properly and
conveniently when called upon. Maurice has the valuable quality
of being always ready to lend a hand when required. This he
does with the most cheerful alacrity, as if an order were a
pleasure to him.

When you start from a port where there is a yacht-builder, and
when you have professional sailors on board your craft you are
above the necessity for manual labour, but in our case we must
always be prepared for it. We really enjoy being hard at work
in a building-yard in our shirt-sleeves ; it is good for both body
and mind. In my own case the manual labour connected with
boating and boat-building has been a source of amusement and
of health. I could not recommend it to every one, as the natural
instinct must be there to give it the necessary zest, but for those
who have the instinct there is no medicine comparable to it,
especially when, as in my own case, the passion for field sports is

wanting.

I value manual labour for another reason, which is that it gives
us a sympathy with and an interest in so much of the common
work that is done in the world. A building-yard is, for me,
quite as interesting as a picture gallery. Here, for example, is
still practised the old craft of building the great river barges.
The construction of these barges is apparently very rude, yet in
reality it is most skilful. A vast quantity of good oak timber
goes into one of them, and it is used with clever economy, the
irregularly shaped planks being made to fit each other with a
minimum of loss. The work is so good of its kind that these

220

The Sadne.

boats are remarkably free from leakage. They are caulked with
moss fixed between the planks by thin iron clamps of which
millions must be used. I learned that it is impossible to make
these clamps by machinery as every one of them has to be
hammered in a particular manner on an anvil. An English
critic might be tempted to despise such boat-building as out of
date and unscientific, but it is in reality a survival of ruder times
wJiicJi stands the test of science. There is science enough at

." ' ' '' '

Chalon
from the
Little Creusot.

Chalon, considering that torpedo-boats are on the stocks in the
next yard, at the " Petit Creusot." As rough and cheap weight-
carriers there are no boats superior to the old-fashioned Saone
barges, but they may be eventually replaced by a new class of
vessel now coming quickly into favour, the steam-barge, built
of steel, and going four miles an hour when laden.

The overlooker and I had a conversation about the building
of the smaller boats which are used as cock-boats for the barges
I argued (from experience on the Boussemroum) that they were

A Summer Voyage. 221

needlessly heavy, and, in fact, their weight is enormous. He
maintained the necessity for the great oaken knees in them and
said that, on account of the rough work, such boats " avaient
besoin de quelquecJiose de confortable"

I found an ingenious joiner in the yard whom I knew personally
already. He is a clever amateur sailor and was now occupied in
building, during leisure hours only, a scientific sailing-boat for
his own use in the Chalon regattas. You will at once infer
that his vessel is made of wood. No, she is entirely of steel,
which gives the builder all the relief of a change of work, and
the pleasure of practical amateurship. I was much surprised to
see how completely he had overcome the great technical difficulty
of hammering the steel plates, so as to give them the proper
curves, which are exceedingly complex. Happy and unhappy
mortal ! Enviable in the possession of the most delightful of all
hobbies, pitiable in this, that the ideal of the amateur boat-builder
is never, and can never be, attained ! 1

When my boat was in the water I noticed that the men were
preparing to launch a great barge, sideways, according to their
custom. In answer to a question from me the overlooker said
that there was no hurry to get the Arar out of the way ; however,
I thought differently and poled her to a safe place. No sooner
was my boat in safety than the barge came rushing down
exactly where she had been, and set up a great wave.

1 I asked him why, being a joiner, he had not preferred wood to steel as more in
his way. His answer is worth quoting, he said: "A joiner knows the defects of
wood too intimately to think of using it for a boat." Steel is certainly preferable in
places like Chalon where the summers are extremely hot. A beautiful little sailing
yacht was in the yard at the same time with the Arar. She was of wood, the Arar
is of steel. When the wooden boat was put on the water (though newly painted 1 !
she sank to the bottom. The Arar, which had been out of the water much longer,
of course floated as usual.

222

The Saone.

There is now a whole fleet of steam-tugs and barges in that
place, doing nothing, because the Saone is at its lowest, and the
navigation is stopped whilst the sluices are all open, and the
civil engineers are repairing the works all along the river. The
commercial navigation is therefore suspended for the present.
The crowd of boats near the building-yard is so dense that the
Arar is completely imprisoned by them, and will not be able to
get out unless the large boats make way for her.

Chalon, the Hospital.

Besides this the heat is so intense that it would not be safe to
row on the shadeless river in the daytime — it would be deliber-
ately courting sunstroke. Sailing is out of the question, as
there is not a breath of wind. However, we cannot remain
indefinitely at Chalon, so I have decided to do our travelling by
night. There is no moon, but we have an intimate knowledge
of the river, and there will be " the pale light of stars."

Before we leave, let us look at the island where the building-
yard is situated. This yard is inclosed with high palings and is
itself extremely picturesque in the interior, as such places often

A Slimmer Voyage. 223

are, but beyond the palings there is a superb avenue under which
there happens just at present to be a large military encampment
of white bell tents, and the place is guarded by sentinels who
challenge us every time we pass. Behind this avenue is the
hospital, originally a very remarkable building of the sixteenth
century. Only a small part of the old hospital remains, but the
modern one that has replaced it is rather a fine structure with
an elegant dome, that produces a pretty effect above the noble
masses of trees. The rest of the island contains some streets
but no building of any artistic or archaeological interest. There
is, however, a poetic interest in the road across the island, for it
leads straight to St. Marcel, only a mile and a-half from here,
and St. Marcel is the spot where Abelard was first buried. His
bones now rest at Pere-la-Chaise by the side of Heloi'se.

During our work in the yard, we received a visit from a tall
and powerfully built gentleman, who sat down on a log of wood
and criticised the set of our sails. As a general rule, one pays
little attention to critics, but here is one who knows all about his
subject. There are now some thoroughly scientific amateur boat
designers, and M. Vitteaut is one of them. Surely no man ever
had the natural instincts and gifts of the ship-builder in greater
strength. M. Vitteaut was as plainly intended by nature for a
ship-builder, as a born artist is for painting, and being a rich man
with abundant leisure he has gone into the whole subject scien-
tifically and knows, perhaps, as much about it as any one, at
least so far as small yachts are concerned. He is clever, too,
with those brown, strong hands of his, and can plane a mast and
rig a vessel and even sew her sails. His greatest happiness in
life is first to design a sailing-boat, then have her built under his
own eyes, not too rapidly, and finally to satisfy himself that she

224 The Saone.

has good nautical qualities. After that he very seldom makes
any further use of a boat, but being extremely good-natured he
willingly lends, or even gives, his vessels to others, and in this
way does much to promote a taste for boating on the Saone.
His yacht, the Falourde, is both swift and commodious, but too
large and heavy to be quite convenient on a river. She would
be more at home on one of the great lakes. 1

Before leaving Chalon, a few words are due to the remarkably
open and courteous ways of the inhabitants towards strangers,
These manners are traditional. In the sixteenth century Saint-
Julien said they were " gracieux, de franc et bon cceur envers
ceux qui abordent leur ville." In the eighteenth century, the
historian Courtepee said that these manners had been preserved
down to his own time. " lis ont conserve cet aimable caractere
de politesse et de generosite qui rend le sejour de leur ville
delicieux aux etrangers." I gladly join my own testimony to
these. Some years ago I was quite surprised by the remarkably
open and pleasant nature of the Chalon people, and their
happiness in making themselves agreeable or useful to a stranger,
but now I am surprised no longer, because I know that this
amenity is natural to them and in their blood.

1 M. Vitteaut is deservedly President of the Chalon Regattas. He has done more
than any one both for sailing and boat-building on the Saone. By always having his
boats constructed on the spot he has encouraged and advanced the art there, and
others have followed his example. M. Brunet-Meige, of Chalon, is now quite an
accomplished builder of steam yachts, and also of sailing boats in steel so far as their
hulls are concerned. I mention his name with the greater pleasure that it was he
who built the Avar after my designs. At Chalon steel hulls are all the fashion.

A Summer Voyage. 225

LETTER XXXVIII.

Port d'Ouroux,
August $olk, Morning.

The Arar set out on her voyage from the quay near the statue
of Niepce at Chalon. It is a very beautiful quay, with steps of
immense width going down to the water, a stately, convenient
place like the quays in the pictures of Claude. The Queen of
Sheba might have embarked there with all her retinue. In this
respect the modern town far excels the walled stronghold of the
middle ages.

The starlight was at first so feeble that we could see nothing
on the river. Some barges were moored along the shore and
we were conscious of their existence as great, indefinite, dark
objects, but we could not easily guess our real distance from
them. We had to pass under a railway bridge and I could not
see all the piers with the naked eye, but just made them out
with the binocular. At this moment a flash of lightning
showed one pier most distinctly, so I was able to take my
bearings.

Stephen and Maurice were at the oars, there being not a breath
of wind. I may tell you that the Arar was designed simply for
convenience in river travelling, and is not at all a regatta boat.
You will become familia>ised with her different qualities as the
voyage proceeds, but just now I ask you to notice three points.
We start, as you see, to row the whole distance to the next port,
so that although the Arar is a sailing boat, able to bear the
stress of 260 square feet of canvas in a strong breeze and much
more in a light one, she can be propelled with oars in a calm. I
may add that the arrangements for rowing are convenient and

226 The Saone.

have received especial attention. There is nothing to interfere
with the oarsmen who have their full liberty of action unimpeded
by the sailing gear.

Another convenience is that we are never obliged to lower a
mast or even a gaff when passing under a bridge. The height
of the masts is under nineteen feet, which in summer gives us
the freedom of all the bridges on the Saone.

The third convenience is that we only draw fifteen inches of
water, and are consequently not confined to the deep channels.
Low masts and a light draught of water mean liberty in river
navigation. I know that a tall mast mav be lowered and
formerly had a boat on which this was necessary, but it is
troublesome to have to stop for that, and the sails, just at the
very moment when you want them to sail through the bridge,
are converted into a vexatious encumbrance. 1

These prejudices of mine against deep keels and tall masts
have reference to river navigation only. I should prefer a
different type of boat if I had the great luxury of deep water
and nothing between it and the stars.

After leaving Chalon and its lights behind us, we soon came
into the open country, and the great curves of the river, which
just here is very serpentine, made the town seem already remote.
We were soon in complete silence and calm except that now and
then we could hear some peasant driving a cart on a distant
road, and singing as he went, the sounds coming to us with that
strange distinctness combined with distance that they have in
the night time when Nature is at rest.

The lightning 1 which at the moment of starting- seemed to

1 Another objection is that the mast must be down when you are towed behind a
steamer, and nothing can be more awkward than a mast all along a boat's deck.

A Summer Voyage. 227

promise a storm, had now entirely ceased and the clouds which
had been so vividly illuminated by it had now all sunk beneath
the southern horizon, so that the entire expanse of heaven was
splendid with innumerable stars. Their light was certainly a
great help to us as it enabled us to distinguish clearly between
the star-studded water and the obscure shores, but the land was
mere darkness with an indefinite edge and we could not make
out anything even with the help of the binocular. The power
of a night-glass in lighting up obscure detail is most evident in
twilight.

The lantern we had on board (which I kept well behind me
to accustom my eyes to the starlight) was a subject of wonder
to the invisible inhabitants of a house on the right bank. From
the distance we had travelled I knew this place to be Port
Guillot which is close to the village of Lux, about half a mile
inland, a place that I never pass without thinking of two very
dissimilar personages.

The first is the Emperor Constantine. You know, of course,
the legend about the apparition of the cross in heaven and the
words " In hoc vince," or " In hoc signo vinces," indeed, I
believe the original words are said to have been Greek. You
know, also, that Constantine adopted the cross for his standard
or " labarum," afterwards. Well, if the incident ever occurred,
tradition, and history registering tradition, have fixed the scene
precisely here on the right bank of the Saone in the land round
the village of Lux. During our starlight voyage nothing
appeared in the heavens but the familiar constellations that
had shone exactly in the same way for the earliest of all earthly
navigators, yet by a very slight effort of imagination, one might
see with closed eyes the celestial cross of Constantine. Indeed

Q 2

228 The Sao nc.

the natural forms of clouds are so various that a bright cloud
may easily have assumed for a moment some resemblance to a
cross. This, however, is mere sceptical criticism. In the poetical
mood we believe in all beautiful legends and this legend is in-
comparable in its grandeur. What magnificent elements ! A
Roman Emperor is riding with his host in battle array and
suddenly there appears a miraculous sign in heaven that he takes
for his victorious standard ! Can anything be grander than
that ? Could any legend more ennoble this somewhat dull and
commonplace scenery on the banks of the Saone at Lux ?

The next association with Lux is quite of a different order.
It has neither antiquity nor the rank of a great personage to
recommend it, and yet there are good reasons for supposing that
it will be remembered in the most distant ages. The father
of photography, Nicephore Niepce, made his experiments at
Lux and there succeeded in fixing the photographic image.
You will remember that the voyage of the Arar began from the
quay at Chalon where the statue of Niepce now stands. I need
not go into details about the origin of photography in this letter
but may say briefly that the common opinion which attributes
the invention to Daguerre is erroneous. Niepce was the inven-
tive genius, Daguerre the commercial partner who brought the
invention to the knowledge of the public and gave the Daguerro-
type his name. Inventors have often aimed at marvellous
results and attained them, but surely no quest could be more
exciting than this eager hope that the image in a silvered mirror
might be kept after the departure of the original ! These banks
of Saone have seen much that is memorable in the history of
mankind, they have been visited by Julius C?esar, by Augustus,
by Constantine, Charlemagne, Napoleon, but which of all these

A Summer Voyage. 229

conquerors ever made so permanent a conquest as this ? The
Roman Empire is split into fragments, the Empire created by
the sword of Napoleon is a tale that is told, but the results of
those researches and experiments made at Lux are independent
of all frontiers and will endure with the civilisation of the race.

How recent it all is ! When the statue of Niepce was un-
veiled a little time since at Chalon his widow was living yet, in
her old age. 1

It is a strange coincidence that the name of the place where
Niepce worked was Light (Lux), and one name of the triumphant
worker was Nicephore, the victorious, the bearer of the prize
(vi/cr)(f)6po<;.)

It is time, however, to return to our voyage on the Arar, which,
you will think, is getting forward very slowly. Yes, slowness is
one of its principal characteristics, and one of its great superiorities
over ordinary hurrying from place to place.

Some time after leaving Port Guillot we came to a dead stop
with the intention of having our supper, as the preparations for
departure had caused us to omit the ceremony of dining
altogether.

1 The statue is well situated in a place forming three sides of a square, the fourth
being open towards the Saone. The face looks straight in the* direction of Mont
Blanc, sometimes clearly visible from thence. The inventor, with a gesture a little
too emphatic, has brought his right arm across his breast to point to the camera at his
left. The sculptor worked for nothing, animated by no motive more selfish than the
desire to express in lasting bronze his respect for a great man's memory. If every
human being who has had occasion to be grateful to the discoverer of photography
had contributed to this work the sculptor might have been royally remunerated, and
the statue instead of bronze, might have been of silver and gold.

There is a museum at Chalon for the preservation of antiquities and pictures, but it
possesses one treasure that is absolutely unique, a glass case containing the apparatus
with which Niepce made his immortal experiments, and some plates engraved by him
which are the earliest specimens of heliogravure.

230

T/ie Saone.

It is one of my rules always to have the materials for one
meal in reserve on board the Avar, but never more. This meal
is ready cooked to save trouble, and if it is not eaten I have it
cleared out of the provision-box at the next inn, and replaced
by a fresh one on departure. By following this rule we avoid
spoilt food in this hot weather, though if we remain away from
the inns twelve hours at a time we may be put on rather
short rations.

The Avar, Deck Vieiv.

I have been anxious to spare you details about boat-building,
but some parts of our voyage would be unintelligible if I did
not tell you that the Avar is a catamaran or double boat on the
principle of the Calais- Douvres. She has consequently a fiat,
floor-like deck, and when she is run aground she remains steady
without heeling to one side or the other, and requires no
" crutches." You will therefore imagine us at supper on this
flat deck with a lantern hanging above us from a piece of string
that goes from one mast to the other. We possess very low,
but very comfortable, chairs expressly devised for the boat,
and I can assure you that on a fine night there are less pleasant

A Slimmer Voyage. 23 1

supper-rooms than the "chamber," as we call it, of the A rar.
How we manage in bad weather you will learn when that
kind of weather comes.

As we are quite accustomed to living on board, our repasts
are conducted with order. Without carrying anything super-
fluous we possess all the apparatus necessary for a civilised
meal, and our out-door existence gives the appetite of a savage,
which is a happy though a rare combination. Stephen and
Maurice supply that gaiety which I am young enough to enjoy,
but perhaps too old to originate. On this occasion the enjoy-
ment of the night was enhanced by the intolerable heat of
the burning day that had preceded it. The air was neither
hot nor cold, but deliciously temperate. There was nothing to
hurry us, and we took no account of time. We might row
along quietly till sunrise on these tranquil, monotonous waters.

Burgundian inn-keepers excel in the art of filling a traveller's
provision-basket. Our supper began with a great melon, ripe
and full-flavoured, then continued with a fine cold roast poulet
de la Bresse, a slice or two of Mayence ham, a little Gruyere
cheese, and for dessert we had an abundance of fine peaches
and grapes. Is it .esthetic to mention these details ? I fear
not, but Mr. Grant Allen admits that dessert may be poetical,
if not dinner, and you may remember that Byron was enthusiastic
about Lady Mary Wortley Montague's lines, —

" And when the long hours of the public are past

And we meet with champagne and a chicken at last."

Byron said " Is not her champagne and chicken worth a forest
or two ? Is it not poetry ? " We had not champagne with
our chicken, but we had sound red Burgundy, which is better
though not alliterative.

232 The Saonc.

It was hard to disturb the young men and tell them to resume
their toil as galley slaves when the kettle was singing over the
spirit-lamp and they had lighted their cigarettes, so we fell to
talking about the constellations, deeply regretting that we had
not some learned astronomer to lecture to us. Our ignorance
did not proceed from any want of interest in the subject. We
are the happy possessors of some excellent treatises on astro-
nomy, and we know as much of the subject as my grandmother,
being able to recognise the most popular constellations. I have
humbly tried to fix the names of others without attaining to
certainty. They do not really look like bears, lions, dragons
and dogs, or, if they do, I cannot understand why others, that to
my uneducated eye appear strikingly similar, should be com-
pared to a lyre and a ship. These may be bold words, but I take
courage from the reflection that the constellations existed
some time before the unaccountable names that were applied
to them.

In their presence is there really any time ? How long is it
since Caesar crossed the Saone and tried to see which way the
imperceptible current flowed ? In a museum of Gallo-Roman
antiquities the interval seems immense ; here on the river at
night, when not a habitation is to be seen, nothing but calm
water, dim shores, and a starry heaven, the war in Gaul is an
incident of yesterday.

After rowing some miles further in perfect solitude, and in
a silence broken only by the leaping fish, one of whom jumped
into the boat and was kindly restored to his native element, we
came at length to a place where the dark silhouettes of houses
were visible on the left bank, with a turret at the north end of
them. This was our haven, and the inn was not difficult to find,

A Summer Voyage. 233

being the last house at the southern extremity of the hamlet.
The whole place was dark, silent, and asleep, nor was there any
sound in the country except a flageolet played by an invisible
swain away across the fields. The notes came to us very
distinctly and with great purity, but it was always a repetition
of one tune. Was the invisible musician a piping shepherd, or
was he some rustic lover ? That will never be known, but the
tune did not seem plaintive enough for passion, it breathed
a calm content.

I always feel a disinclination to disturb people in their sleep,
but the hostess here recognised my voice and gave us a hearty
welcome. Soon all our things were housed, and we saw the
stars no more.

When I tell you that this inn is a poor, cheap little place
you may infer that the rooms are wretched. That would be
a great mistake. We have a very large room with three
magnificent armoires (linen-presses) in old walnut, elaborately
panelled and carved and adorned with most artistic iron-work
about the locks and hinges. The beds, too, are handsome and
comfortable, and have red curtains. Altogether it is one of the
richest-looking peasant interiors I ever saw, and it would cer-
tainly produce an admirable effect in a picture if the details
were carefully painted.

W T e made the discovery of this room on a previous voyage.
We had been beating to windward in cold and rain, and after
passing this place, as we were then sailing northwards, we had
still some hours of tedious work before us in the dark. I began
to feel symptoms of chill and thought it prudent to return here,
when we discovered the qualities of this quiet inn and those
of the good people who keep it.

234

The Saone.

LETTER XXXIX.

La Colonne,
August 30///, Afternoon.

Few scenes are more characteristic of the Lower Saone than
the view from Port d'Ouroux early on a splendid morning. The
place has no advantage of altitude, it is merely the river's bank,
perhaps twenty feet above the level of the water, and yet
there is a most open prospect in every direction. It is useless

Pott d'Ouroux,

North End.

to attempt any minute description of scenery, but you may soon
realise the character of this. To the east is a vast green prairie
without a division, level for a long distance, then rising gently
to a low eminence, which is crowned by a village. Westwards,
across the river, is another green plain, quite fiat, with a village
in the middle of it and hills beyond, with white gleaming villages
on these. To the north another stretch of plain and another
village, to the south a straight reach of river four or five miles
long interrupted only by a distant bridge. I have often heard
this scenery described as dull, or even ugly, but it has character,

A Summer Voyage. 235

and on a bright sunny morning the character is exhilarating.
One would like to be a horse galloping in freedom over the soft
green plain, or, better still, one of those sea-gulls that fly
above the river, and have come up so far from the
Mediterranean. 1

The village of Marnay, just opposite the Port d'Ouroux, is
situated on a river called the Grosne, which falls into the
Saone a mile further to the south. The Grosne is a slueeish
stream, only remarkable near Marnay for its many windings,
but higher up it is remarkable for something else.

Port d ' Ouroux, South End.

On the banks of this little river Grosne stood at one time the
largest and grandest church in Christendom. After the building
of St. Peter's, at Rome, it was the second, and remained so.
In other words, all such buildings as York Minster, Notre
Dame, and the cathedrals of Cologne, Milan, Strasbourg, and
the rest were its inferiors, at least in size. They were also very
generally its inferiors in unity of design and in magnificence
of plan. Of all the colossal churches in the world it was
probably, except St. Peter's, the most harmonious and the

1 Sea-gulls are very common below Chalon, but not on the Upper Saone, though
we met with smaller marine birds there.

236 The Saonc.

most complete. It was also one of the oldest, having been
begun in 1089 and finished in 1 131.

The great abbatial church of Cluny, with its many towers
and chapels all built consistently in the same style, was the
most magnificent example of Romanesque architecture in
existence, and might have lasted like the Pyramids had it not
been pulled down by the secular authorities of Cluny early in
tht, present century, for no reason in the world but the devilish
desire to commit an act of Vandalism. The loss is the
more painful and provoking that the edifice had escaped the
Revolution intact, and if it had only been left standing half
a century longer it would have been classed as a monument
historique, and preserved as long as civilisation lasted. 1

The first question for travellers with a sailing-boat is, " Any
wind to-day ? " the second, "In what direction ? " The faintest
of faint breezes began to touch the surface of the river early
in the morning. They came from all points of the compass,
then died away and left a sullen calm with increasing heat.
After eleven the south wind sprang up, and we determined
to set sail and beat against it. We had at last the pleasure
of seeing white canvas in the sunshine and the small waves
dancing and glittering, and it was sweet to hear once more
the merry noise they made as they dashed vainly against the
twin steel hulls of the Arar.

1 The act of the civil authorities was the more brutal that Cluny had been in the
middle ages the home of learning and the light of Europe. "It is unquestionable,"
says Viollet-le-Duc, " that Cluny supplied western Europe with architects as it furnishtd
reforming scholars, professors for schools, painters, savants, physicians, ambassadors,
bishops, sovereigns, and popes, for if Cluny were effaced from the eleventh century
little would be left but darkness, ignorance, and monstrous abuses."

It is pleasant to know that when the Cluny Vandals presented themselves before
Napoleon at Macon he reproached them as they deserved.

A Summer Voyage.

237

I had a fancy for making an experiment. I had found on
the last voyage that the Arar would come round without her
jib, and therefore tried to suppress it, but after a fair trial
it was Stephen's opinion, and mine also, that a jib must be
considered an indispensable sail on a catamaran. On canoes
the case is different, and the suppression of the sail is wise. 1

The Arar under sail.

This question being settled we restored the jib, and perhaps it
was quite as well that we had done so when an unforeseen peril
revealed itself. Just at the moment of tacking, when the Arar
v/as in stays, I perceived that we were within a very few yards of

1 " A jib in canoes is a troublesome snare, its driving power is comparatively small,
and it is only in play when the wind is abeam or forward of the beam ; yet it entails
a lot of extra gear, requires constant watching, and in a really bad squall is suicidal
to the boat." — Dixon Kemp.

238 The Sad ne.

one of those great subaqueous walls that are called
dayonnages. These walls are built out in the river to protect
the shore from erosion, but as they do not rise above the surface
and are not marked, as they ought to be, by buoys, you have to
learn where they are by actual experience. This clayonnage first
came far out into the river from the left bank and then ran
parallel with the shore for a long distance, after which it returned
to the same bank, forming a vast inclosure. Where it came out
the current (rather strong in this place) was carrying us rapidly
upon it, and it was a question of seconds whether we were to
strike or not. However, the Avar got way on her new tack just
in time to take us clear. We were then within five or six yards
of the wall, but of course cared nothing for it as soon as the
sails began to draw. 1 What would have happened if we had
missed stays ? We should simply have been carried against the
wall and glued to it by the steady pressure of the current. With
the Avar, which has two insubmersible steel hulls divided into
water-tight compartments, there would have been no danger
either of sinking or upsetting, but the difficulty of getting out of
such a situation might have been very great. Captain Kornprobst
and I both retain a vivid recollection of an accident of this kind
in which we got the boat over the wall twice, as a huntsman
leaps into an inclosure on land and out again. This is the only

1 A catamaran has two defects at the moment of tacking. She does not come
round so quickly as an ordinary boat, neither does she shoot forward rapidly in stays.
The first of these defects may, I think, be easily remedied by a special form of hull,
but the second is due to the lightness of a catamaran and its consequent want of
momentum. Lightness is, however, such a precious quality at all other times that
one does not like to sacrifice it. Mr. J. Mackenzie, of Belfast, has overcome the
difficulty by having a watertight chest under the deck. This chest was filled with
about 6 cwt. of water for beating to windward, but kept empty at other times, the
water being easily discharged by the opening of a valve.

A Summer Voyage. 239

danger in the navigation of the Saone. There are neither rocks,
as in the Rhone, nor sand-banks like the shifting sand-banks of
the Loire.

Beating to windward is the sure test of a vocation for boating.
Young men like Stephen and Maurice, who have the true
vocation, will go on working steadily against the wind for a
whole day without complaining, and, if the weather is pleasant,
with actual enjoyment, but any one who looks upon boating simply
as a means of getting from one place to another, will always find
the zig-zag method of progression exasperatingly tedious. For
us, since we intended in any case to stop at La Colonne, a
contrary wind was the best we could have had, for it gave us
prolonged occupation on the water. When we came to the bridge
of Thorey, above La Colonne, we managed to sail through one of
the arches without tacking under it. This is always rather
delicate work against the wind, as you must come close to the
first pier in order to clear the second. At the weir of Gigny we
found the lock closed and the sluice open, so we had to sail down
the sluice. We had the current in our favour, but the wind was
dead against us, so we had to tack in the sluice, which is narrow
with a great wall on one side and the weir on the other, just a
place for a strong current of air. After the weir was past we had
to avoid the backwater, which ran back with a strong counter-
current to the foot of the fall.

La Colonne is a small hamlet on the right bank of the Saone
with a few picturesque cottages and an inn. The place takes its
name from a Roman column which existed here and has since
disappeared. The shaft of a great column was found in the bed
of the river near this place some years ago, and is now at Tournus.
This is believed to be, and probably is, the monolith which gave

240 The Sadne.

its name to the hamlet. It is also believed, with great appear-
ance of probability but no exact certainty, that this is the place
where Cresar crossed the Saone with his legions when pursuing
the Swiss, and that the column was erected as a memorial and as
a guide to other Roman armies. One desires to fix the place of
an event so important as the first Roman passage of the Saone,
and here it is, accurately enough for belief though not for
knowledge.

There is an inn at La Colcnne and it is a favourite haven of
ours. The host is a prosperous corn and hay merchant, very
friendly to us but often away from home on business. This time
he and his wife are both absent at a fair, and, strange to say,
there is nothing to eat in the house, usually so well provided.
The servants knew us and were distressed by the dearth of pro-
visions. " Be not anxious on our account," I answered, " there is
always food in reserve on board the Avar. Only fetch the pro-
vision box." So we ate our own dejeuner in the cool shade of
the inn. This is a charming specimen of the Saone inns. The
entrance hall is a great room trellised round three sides which can
be closed with shutters against sun or wind, or open to the roof.
There are half-a-dozen small tables at the sides, with one great
round table in the middle. The door is open, and through the
doorway we have an uninterrupted view of the river from our
table, which is in a corner. You would think that I had enough
of the river by this time, but the love of water is an insatiable
passion, and I like to see it without stirring from my place at
tabic. I remember on a former voyage sitting in this sheltered
corner and seeing the moon just in that doorway, and the shore
quite dark beyond under the clouds, and the silvered waves
tossing restlessly under a strong south wind. To-night there will

A Summer Voyage. 241

be no moon, and the wind has fallen, and the heat is like the
heat of Africa. But the water is cool in the well, and the wine
cools in the water-bucket on the floor. It is a cheap white wine
that sparkles naturally, and though rather piquant is neither
harsh nor acid. It is grown in the neighbouring vineyards, and
its reputation is entirely local. The colour is a pale amber, and
it is clear as the fountain of Bandusia. Nothing drinkable could
be prettier than a goblet of it,

" With beaded bubbles winking at the brim."

LETTER XL.

Tournus, September \st.

Our host and hostess at La Colonne returned before dinner-
time with an abundance of provisions in their carriage. We
dined in the trellised hall, and afterwards had a long talk with
the innkeeper. Then came the keeper of the lock at Gigny,
which is a few hundred yards up the river. He is a great friend
of ours, not for any good we ever did to him, but because he
once rendered a service to us, and whenever we pass this way he
never fails to pay us a visit. On these occasions he particularly
enjoys a long talk with my son. I wish you could see the
interior where we met. I told you that it is a large room
trellised on three sides and open to the roof, which is high. A
large lamp hangs from the middle beam, and fishing-nets in
picturesque festoons from others. We have dined, the peaches
and grapes have disappeared, the cloth has been removed, and
our host offers us chartreuse on the green table, which liqueur will

242 The Saone.

not be included in the bill. Our host is a large, strong man with
a rubicund face and a thick moustache. The heat has reduced
his costume to a pair of white trousers and a shirt. Stephen and
Maurice are almost as lightly clad, and enjoy this liberty after hot
broadcloth in a town hotel. The young men contrast much
more strongly in outward appearance than they do in character
and tastes. Stephen looks entirely English and Maurice
entirely French. Stephen, as you remember, has a light florid
complexion with fair hair and a full beard ; Maurice is dark,
with a young, dark brown moustache. A painter would not
wish for a better contrast, and it is repeated between our host
and myself. Anybody would guess our nationality at once, but
it is not so with the lockkeeper. No one meeting him out of
France would say immediately, " That is a Frenchman." He is
above the middle height, spare and active, and reminds me in
his general appearance of an English gamekeeper. Altogether
we made a diversified and picturesque group under the light
of the high lamp.

"Ah, Messieurs" said our host, "I shall ever remember that
night when I first made your acquaintance. I was sleeping quietly
in my bed, about one o'clock in the morning, when I heard a
loud noise at the door and opened it. I saw our friend here,
the keeper, and he asked if I had beds for three poor ship-
wrecked mariners. And then you came in, sir, you and your
sons, and I heard your story and we laughed over it merrily, and
part of your wet cargo was spread out upon these tables, and the
next morning we got out of the boat everything that remained
in it."

"My recollection of that night," said the lockkeeper, "is as
clear as if it were yesterday. Somebody came and awoke me

A Summer Voyage. 243

before midnight, and I got up to let you through the lock. I
did not see you as there was little moonlight and the sky was
cloudy, and you down in the lock, too, where it was very dark ;
but when we had opened the lower gates I asked why you did
not go forward, then you answered that you could not go on very
fast as the boat was sinking."

" I remember," said Stephen, " that you were very much alarmed
just then. You thought we were all going to be drowned and
were kindly anxious to save us."

" Yes, I was more frightened than you, but you soon put me at
ease by telling me that it would be a bath and mattered no-
thing."

" It was a double boat like that you have now," said our
host, " but each hull was divided into three sections."

" That was done for portability, so that the boat might be
readily put on board a steamer, and this division into sections
was the cause of leakage. The builder had made a mistake,
he ought to have given her a double skin with canvas between
applied with marine glue, but he relied on thin single boards
and they leaked at the angles. Every compartment was leaky
more or less, but the starboard hull much more than the other
as it filled first with a gurgling noise that my son called ' le
sinistre glou-glou! I said it would be worse when the glou-glou
ceased, and so it turned out, for then the starboard hull sank
bodily and hung suspended from the other."

" I recollect," said the keeper, " that when I came to you with
my boat you had somehow got out of the lock by using your
oars as paddles whilst you stood up, but I could see nothing
under you. You appeared to be standing on the water."

"One hull had sunk entirely and the other only just floated.

R 2

244 The Saone.

We were able to stand by putting one foot on the angle of the
floating hull and the other on the bulwark of the deck. The
most wonderful thing in this adventure was that we did not
even get wet."

" If the things you had on you remained dry," said our host,
" you cannot say the same for those in the coffers of the boat.
What a fishing up of soaked and ship-wrecked goods we had
the following morning : — clothes, books, provisions, what a
cargo you carried with you ! "

"We had started on a long voyage. Our plan was to go
down the Rhone to Avignon and Aries, and it was a part of my
scheme to make use of the interior of the hulls for storing things.
The hulls of the Avar are merely air-boxes containing nothing.
All we have with us now is on the deck."

" I think that kind of portable boat would have been very
practical if it had not leaked," said the innkeeper. " The day
after your accident, when you took the steamer, the different
parts of the boat were as readily put on board as common
passengers' luggage."

" That was my first plan, to have a thing that would sail much
better than a canoe, and yet be as readily put on a steamer or a
railway train. I like a heavy, well-ballasted sailing-boat when
there is a wind, but in dead calms she is a fixture on the water
and keeps her owner a prisoner unless he abandons her."

The day after this conversation we ourselves experienced a
kind of imprisonment not due to the immovableness of the
Arar, which can be either rowed or towed, but to the excessive
heat. I enjoyed my day in spite of it by observing my hot-
weather rules, which are to rise very early and take advantage
of the cool hours, to keep in shade as much as possible during

A Summer Voyage. 245

the hot hours, and to travel in the evening. I worked hard
from morning till night making two water-colour studies, and
only tore up one of them. This is true self-denial, as there is
no pleasure in the practice of art comparable to the savage joy
of annihilating one's own works. Nature sets us an example in
this respect ; she never keeps her pictures. All her groups are
immediately dispersed, all her sunsets obliterated.

In the afternoon, just at the hottest time, an astonishing
incident occurred. On entering the trellised summer-house
I beheld our host with the crew of the Arar seated before three
glasses filled to the brim with what seemed to be pure water.
" Can it be possible," I asked, " that the liquid before you is
water ? " " Certainly," our host answered, " it is nothing else ; "
but there was a humorous light in his eye, and after a pause
he added, " There is an explanation for every wonder. The water
is but to cool the glasses."

We quitted La Colonne just before sunset without a breath of
wind. It was therefore decided that Stephen and Maurice
should tow the boat as long as the twilight lasted, and after
that we calculated that we should be near Tournus and might
row into the town. The tow-rope for the Arar is merely a
piece of good string eighty-five yards long, which is passed
through a pulley on the foremast and brought down to a
cleat on the deck. By this arrangement it can be continually
lengthened or shortened on the boat without troubling the
man who tows. It was my business to steer, Maurice took
charge of the tow-rope, and Stephen walked on the somewhat
irregular shore with a broad belt over his shoulder. I am not
quite sure that towing is a good economy of power except
because two men can take the work alternately. The toil

2_j.6 The Saone.

itself is certainly heavier than that of reasonable rowing, but
it is a change after a sitting posture, and Stephen, who is a
pedestrian, enjoys it.

After the miserable experience of the Boussemroum it was a
pleasure to be on the Arar, which answered to the helm as
delicately when towed as if she had had a side wind in her sails.
Her power of lateral resistance is so great that when I desired
to keep off the shore she would travel forward steadily with the
rope almost at a right angle with her course, and the rudders were
so persuasive that Stephen could do nothing whatever against
them, indeed he said that by simply steering I could almost have
dragreed him into the water. 1 It is in this varietv of service that
consists the merit of a travelling as distinguished from a regatta
boat. The traveller does not want brilliant qualities, but he
wants to go on steadily, whatever the motive power. Our first
day's voyage was done with oars, our second by sailing against
the wind, our third by towing. This adaptability to different uses
is explained by the comparative lightness of the Arar, which
does not carry a single pound of ballast, and by her shallow
draught of water. For travelling on the Saone the oar and the
tow-rope, though more prosaic than "white wings," are at least
equally necessary.

The sun went down after we had been half an hour on the
water, and just at that time we were opposite Ormes, a charm-
ingly situated village on rising ground to the left. The view from
this village, that we did not visit, must be one of the finest on

1 A catamaran offers a far greater lateral resistance than any single boat can do if
it has only the same draught of water. The inner sides of the hulls of the Arar are
flat walls, which act as keels of a greater depth. These make her rather slow in
stays, but are invaluable in towing. The centre-board is of course always raised in
shallow water, and i^ only used in sailing.

A Summer Voyage. 247

the Saone, as it includes two long reaches of river, two great
woods, and a distant view of Tournus. After sunset we crept
along the edge of one of these woods, and then the towers and
bridge of Tournus became visible far away, a dim grey picture
over miles of water still to be traversed. After sunset the twilight
deepened rapidly, and then Stephen became absolutely invisible on
the darkening shore, so that we had the strange effect of being
drawn by an unexplained force like the boat in Foe's " Domain of
Arnheim " or the ship in " The Ancient Mariner." A very thin
young crescent moon, only two days old, hung over the sombre
forest on the right in a sky still warmed by the afterglow.

The Saone, as I told you from Chalon, is so low at present
that the business navigation is suspended, and even the Avar
could not make her way near shore without occasionally ground-
ing. The rushes, often far out in the stream, prepared us for
some shallow places, but we came upon others unawares. On
these occasions we had good reason to congratulate ourselves
upon the absence of ballast and on the steadiness given by the
two keels when the Avar runs aground. She was always very
easily set afloat again, either by forcing her over the shallow or
by going back and seeking another channel. When poling we
walk from end to end of the two hulls on their own special decks
left free for the purpose, the middle deck being encumbered with
sailing-gear and luggage and divided into compartments.

Maurice took his turn bravely enough at the tow-rope and we
found that our rate of progression averaged four kilometres an
hour, or two and a half English miles. This is exactly the speed
usually calculated for the horses that tow empty barges, so that
there would have been no advantage in having a horse with us.

Sailing is rapid with a good wind, and even a light breeze

248 The SaSne.

gives motion, but the average speed of sailing is often low. One
of my friends who has an excellent sailing-boat built by a
famous builder and the winner of many prizes, told me that on a
long Saone voyage his average speed had been but half of that
which we easily maintain with the tow-rope.

The moon set about eight o'clock, and after that we had
nothing but stars and the distant yellow lights of Tournus.
The bridge had now become invisible and its place could only be
known by its lamps. It being now too dark for towing on an
irregular path, the crew took to the oars and I steered for the
central arch, as yet perfectly invisible. It became visible,
however, on a nearer approach, in the shape of a great dark and
dim shadow.

There is a most deceptive effect of perspective in approaching
a bridge when your mast is nearly as high as the arch. The
mast being close to you and the bridge still at a little distance it
akvays seems that the mast is sure to strike. No reasoning, no
recollection of measurements, can overcome the delusive testi-
mony of the eye. You think " that mast was low enough for
the other bridges, but certainly not for this," and you resign
yourself to the inevitable accident. There is no accident, the
mast passes easily, but the old illusion will recur at the next
bright.

A Summer Voyage.

!49

LETTER XLI.

Touknus, September 2nd.

The morning after our arrival here I rose early and enjoyed a
walk about the place just after sunrise, whilst the air was still cool
and refreshing.

This old town was very familiarly known to me already, but

^%m

Toumtis, the Bridge

no degree of familiarity can take away its one great and striking
characteristic. All the towns and villages we have seen hitherto
on the Saone visibly belong to northern or to central France.
Even Chalon, the last of them, is not at all a southern city, it is
not more distinctively southern than Dijon, but at Tournus you

250

The Saone.

arc really in the south, and might easily believe yourself in one
of the old towns on the Rhone. This southern character begins
exactly at Tournus itself. The village of Ormes, that we passed
after leaving La Colonne has nothing of it, there is not a sign to
warn you that the genuine south is at hand. Your boat
touches ground at Tournus and you are in another country

fijIC s i

On the Quay at Tournus.

a country as distinct from central France as Middlesex is
from Midlothian.

How shall I describe the effect of this sudden plunge into the
true South ? First, you have a vague general impression of
change, like that after arriving in a foreign land, then you look
about and notice one by one the many details which in their
aggregate have produced the impression.

A Summer Voyage.

251

Some even declare that the sky at Tournus has the southern
azure, and has it not yet at Chalon. It is difficult, in a matter
so gradated as the depth of the sky, to determine where the
veritable azure begins, but assur-
edly on the first of September the
rosy towers of the old Romanesque
abbatial church of St. Philibert
caught the first rays of the eastern
sun against a sky of such blue
that it seemed Italian. 1

The picturesque character of
the streets here is quite the south-
ern picturesque. The roofs are
pitched at a very obtuse angle,
and they project far out at the
eaves ; the tiles, too, are of the
rounded, southern form, and more
often of a pale ochrous yellow
than of the comfortable northern
red. The small degree of in-
clination in the roofs makes them
generally invisible from below, you
see only the projecting part that
casts its dark shadow. The houses
themselves are often roughly built,
so that even when new they have
a picturesque texture from the
beginning. Occasionally the walls are supported on arcades.

Ruelle at Tournus.

1 The stone of the highest story of these towers has a reddish tinge, which in
early or late sunshine becomes rosy.

25:

The Sao in- .

At one cafe there is a spacious arcade of this kind giving coolness
that is much appreciated by the crew of the Avar at noon.
Many of the streets are extremely narrow, as in the far south,
in one of them you pass under low arches which reminded
Stephen of Algiers. In this little street there is a long external

itr- ' -*

Xi 8ffl JUB-rssr-f- 8 —

The Marketplace at Tournus

balcony with a balustrade of turned oak ; as I was admiring
this a man came out upon it and said it was the greatest con-
venience in his house, being the sole means of communication
between one room and another.

There is more colour in Tournus than in the northern towns.
To look down one of the narrow streets when the buildings on

A ^Summer Voyage. 253

one side are in strong sunshine, and those opposite in broad
shadow is to incur a painter's temptation, so rich are the ochres
and russets, so deep the glimpse of blue ! Then there will
be flowers and verdure at the windows, spots of pure bright
colour amidst the yellows and browns.

The important streets are irregular, and there are two or three
places, one opposite the Museum with a marble statue of Greuze.
There is an old tourelle at the corner of this place and the
market is held here. But no scene in Tournus is so impressive
as the quieter place on the hill before the great church. It has
no describable shape, but is narrow at the entrance, guarded by
an old round tower, then the ground rises and the place widens
with irregular and very picturesque buildings on each side, but
it is impossible to pa)- any attention to these in the presence of
the extraordinary church.

The west front looks on the place. It is a striking example
of a certain kind of power in architecture, that is separate from
beauty. You feel the power at once, and may account for it
afterwards at your leisure. It is a strong assertion of military
and ecclesiastical domination at the same time, fortress and
church in one, and the effect on the mind is far stronger than
that of more elegant and amiable architecture. This piece of
rude eleventh century building goes up first to a great height
like a precipice, with no openings but loopholes, and nothing to
amuse you but the rough texture of the stones and their various
warm or cool greys. Then the architect indulges in a military
machicoulis and twin towers, one only being completed. They
are good Romanesque towers with as much elegance as is com-
patible with the serious character of the style. Besides the
finished tower at the west end there is another, also finished, but

254 The Saone.

so much further eastwards, that from a distance it seems almost
to belong to another edifice.

On entering, we do not find ourselves in the body of the
church, but in a vast covered porch or narthex, with a low vaulted
roof carried on eight huge round columns. 1 Above this narthex
there is a hall or chapel, with lofty nave and low side aisles.
The narthex is one of the peculiarities of the great monastic
churches of the Cluny fraternity. At Vezelay it is rich with
sculpture, here it is as plain as a prison, and as depressing. One
feels a sense of relief on emerging from the low vault into the
lofty church. The nave is very plain, too, with its tall unadorned
columns, round arches, and wooden tie-beams from one column
to another. Beauty is reserved for the choir and apse. The
pourtour of the apse is delightful with its richly-carved capitals,
the intricate perspective given by the intersection of the arches,
and the charm of the small chapels that seem like refuges from
the uncouth vastness of the rude monastic church. One of these
chapels is dedicated to Saint Filomena and adorned with a
series of illuminated pictures, each of which has under it one
stanza of a quaint old poem that I transcribed. I give the
original here for readers who relish old French, and a prose
translation for others.

In the palace of the

^1 pato t!0U fam tOg SOn Pfte good king her father the

%\ ^BrtltrrSSC jFtUtmma Princess Filomena dedi-

■ - . cated herself to Jesus for

*on rucr pov sa bir nrtten al] her life from the age

!&m OmC ang al frills tlOlta of eleven years.

1 Two of them are against the west wall, and partly sunk in it. The aisles have
half columns.

A Summer Voyage.

255

Now the Emperor of
Rome loved her, think-
ing that she would love
him, but Filomena would
love no man, nor any
throne or diadem.

Uonc come aiesus oespoltee
IL'uenotste fill? tie rojj
JHult grantcment fust flagellee
}8ar les mauureeurs por sa fon

Wherefore, being
stripped like Jesus this
blessed daughter of a
king was heavily
scourged by blasphemers
for her faith.

ILors tueli enuota 60ns Angeles
jcaluer la satnete en son nom
iEli eoatant otanctjes atles
^ourterent 00 w lee gartson

Then God sent good
angels to save her in His
name, and beating the
air with white wings,
they brought her sweet
relief.

5
8U anere toe ncf attache
Ut tiolentc jfilumena
HI <Ttoens fust cnfouretjee
gltns tioui gjesus It salua

Being fastened to the
anchor of a ship, the
suffering Filomena was
cast into the Tiber. But
kind Jesus preserved
her.

Hi prenant por tnagtctene

JHult fust mautrattee par oourels

&tns It tres tone Ottesttene

iEeust pour ooulceurs tormens cruels

Taking her for a
witch, the executioners
mistreated her, so this
good Christian had cruel
torments instead of
pleasures.

256

The S aone.

©gant re riHmprrror rust mult ire
iSaillant ortre nl srs arrfjicrs
Bi fair la pourr martprc
iltns 1 1 rops bant al srs rijters

The Emperor heard
of this with great wrath,
and gave orders to his
archers to strike the
poor martyr so their
arrows entered her flesh.

ILors tie It sainrtr petsom
%\ binu cttef fust taillr
£Uns p.ir BicU - tronr abe corone
&l jFtlumena fust bailie.

8
Then from her holy
body the beautiful head
was severed. And thus
God gave a throne and
a crown to Filomena.

This seems to me a most able piece of poetical work. A tale
had to be told in a very few words and I think it would be
difficult to combine brevity more perfectly with grace. How
decidedly the story is opened in the first stanza, how completely
it is concluded in the last ! The finish of the concluding lines in
their reference to the last line of the second stanza is masterly.
The sympathetic sentiment is pure and elevated and it is never
overdone. There is pity, yet not too much, for what need had
she of pity who was to be so rewarded ? The poet has a sense of
beauty, he thinks of the white wings of the angels, 1 and of
Filomena's beautiful head, but he thinks more of what seems to
him the religious beauty of her life.

In the chapel of St. Filomena, where these illuminated stanzas
form an appropriate decoration, it was almost irritating to observe

1 What can be more beautiful than these two lines in the fourth stanza, describing
the descent of the healing angels ?

©li rbatant utartchrs ailcs
13ourtcrmt tioulcc gavtson.

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Xv '^

^ - -.V ?3^Wi" r::V . v ■' -if'-'- ">V "*':

y r

•ft

A Summer Voyage. 257

the readiness with which the priests had accepted the most
trivial offerings. I believe they do this from a good motive, the
desire to avoid hurting the feelings of the poor, the wish to make
them understand that the Church cares for them, but this in-
dulgence is disastrous to ecclesiastical edifices. A poor believer
buys a bad coloured print in a sixpenny frame and the priest
hangs it in a splendid chapel, as if he were destitute of all
sense of the incongruous. In the south transept at Tournus
there is a small collection of water-colours, copied by Creys, a
miniature painter, from Poussin. These water-colours are framed
and hung exactly as if they were in a gallery and nobody seems
to perceive that they look nugatory where they are.

The whole church is interesting but the present crypt contains
an edifice more interesting still, a small and very ancient church,
one of the most ancient in Europe. A vault of the rudest
masonry is supported by ten thin columns, some of which have
been borrowed from a Roman building. Here is the tomb of
St. Valerian, and also a sacred well. The water is still believed
by some good people to have miraculous qualities. Round the
ancient church is a pourtour which is comparatively modern,
being of the eleventh century. There was a fascination in the
gloom and silence of this relic of antiquity that made me linger
in it long. The desire for historical continuity is gratified by
the preservation of buildings for their original uses. The
present Bishop of Autun has officiated in this church — at how
wide an interval from those who first worshipped there !

258 The Saone.

LETTER XLIL

Tournus, September yd.

You will remember that in my letter from La Colonnc I
mentioned the Roman column which gave its name to the place.
The shaft of it is now at Tournus, lying prostrate in a court-
yard behind the gendarmerie. It is a monolith, about twenty
feet long, of a pale, slightly reddish, colour. After fishing it up
in the Saone, the authorities erected it at Tournus in the square
of the hotel de ville, and afterwards removed it. A thing of this
kind loses half its interest when displaced. It ought to be
re-erected at La Colonne.

The place opposite the hotel de ville is at present occupied by
a statue of Greuze in white marble. If you enter the museum
you will find a letter bearing the signature of Greuze between
the two windows that look out upon the square, and you may
read the letter and see the statue at the same time. The two
together point to a combination which is not rare in the history
of men of genuis. The statue tells of established and enduring
fame, the letter of lamentable and absolute penury in old age.
It is a most painful letter, but only from sad circumstances, not
from any lack of dignity. If the unfortunate writer could have
received the present value of one of his pictures he would have
been above anxiety in his declining years. 1

Greuze was born at Tournus in 1725. The date is com-
memorated on a slab of marble placed outside the house.
Besides this, and the statue, there are other memorials of him.

1 The popularity of the engravings from his works had enabled Greuze to save
money, but he lost it in the turmoil of the Revolution.

A Summer Voyage. 259

The museum contains a few very able sketches, besides one or
two copies from his more famous works, including, of course, the
inevitable CrucJie Cassee. But nothing of his charmed me so
much as a small picture of a girl's head, painted with that
indescribable lightness and grace of execution that belong only to
a master, and in fine colour too. The face of the girl is attrac-
tive without much beauty of feature. This led me to notice that
the style of prettiness immortalised by Greuze in his paintings
is still preserved by Nature herself in living faces at Tournus,
and that the artist's inspiration came evidently from his native
place. Whilst we sat at dinner a girl was sent to fetch cold
water from a public fountain. When she came back she paused
a moment in the doorway, and I said, " There is the Cruclie
Cassee ! " — not because the pitcher was broken, but it was
exactly the shape of that in the famous painting, even to the
little spout, and the girl had the peculiar grace that inspired
the artist.

Our inn at Tournus is an eccentric, yet pleasant house. The
stairs, which are narrow, open directly on the street, but by
turning aside you stumble somehow into the kitchen, and after
that into a sort of large cafe-restaurant, at present rather
encumbered with oars and other impedimenta from the Avar.
The master of the house is a joiner, absent all day, and there is
neither the usual male cook nor even a garcon, the work of the
house being entirely done by women, but it is very well done.
Cleanliness and good cookery are the great merits of the place.
I wish you could see our hostess, so fat, so kind, and so
maternally attentive to our wants !

A dead calm has reigned ever since our arrival until yesterday
evening. As we were at dinner we were startled by a sudden

S 2

26o

The S aone.

roar and a ereat noise of shutters clattering violently, and lo !
the town was enveloped in a great squall. We ran to secure the
boat more effectually, and it was all we could do to reach her
against such a furious blast. The river must have been rough,
but the truth is that we could not see it. The Saone was entirely
concealed from view by a cloud of dust like a sandstorm in the
desert. Had we been out on the water in this brief hurricane,

™5«

■■'■,/■'■'

Tourntis,

the Big Parasol.

we could only have scudded before it under bare poles ; sailing
and rowing would alike have been out of the question.

After the squall came a thunderstorm, very short and sharp,
but hardly any rain, and to-day the sky is as clear as ever, and
the sun like the sun of Africa. I have not thought it prudent to
start before evening, so we shall travel at night. My time has
been occupied in sketching a solitary house, above the bridge,
that the people call " The Folly," because the builder ought to
have known that it would be surrounded by every flood. Of
course, he knew it, just as he must have known that his house

A Summer Voyage. 261

would be exposed to the east wind, but he accepted these
occasional evils for the enjoyment of a site generally delightful.
There is now a fine group of trees for shade, and the front of the
villa has an open prospect looking towards Mont Blanc. This
does not imply that Mont Blanc is always or often visible.
Would that it were so this evening, for that would be a sign of
rain ! The stately king of mountains only shows himself before a
change of weather. It is almost incredible that he can be there
really when we see the open sky to the east without a trace of
the vanished Alps, yet clear as in a picture by Perugino. I
cannot imagine any better example of the most perfect dis-
simulation. To hide things behind a visible cloud is what a
clumsy person may accomplish ; but only a master can hide them
behind an appearance of perfect clearness, as Nature conceals
her Alps.

* ©A

S. ^J* p '- — - „. -rill

» .— *-4Ti fmtvwmrtta')/^.

LETTER XLIII.

Port of Fleurville,
September s^h.

We left Tournus an hour before sunset. There was not a
breath of wind, so we rowed to Villars, which I sketched from
the boat.

JO J

The Saone.

The day before, having occasion to make a purchase at a
linen draper's, I had been amused by his extreme interest in the
Avar. He had asked a dozen questions about her, all showing
real nautical knowledge, and now when we were out on the river
he came to us in his boat and examined ours. He was much
interested in the Herreshoff rudders, which indeed are a scientific
curiosity. There is a rudder to each hull, and the two are so
connected that the one inside the intended curve always turns
more than the other, though the action of the steersman is as

Villars

simple as in ordinary steering. Either a tiller or cords may be
used with this apparatus. I prefer cords as in a rowing boat,
and steer without effort, though the rudders are large and heavy.
Villars is an uncommonly picturesque little village, perched
on the top of a steep height, and crowned with a Romanesque
church of the twelfth century. At a distance sufficient to explain
the fine situation of Villars in a sketch, it is not possible to
discern the picturesque detail which reveals itself only when you
are under the steep. By the time we arrived there the sun had
set, and as the calm continued Stephen went ashore with the
tow-rope.

■POST HE

*te ,2S

a su&aqueo'tf

Bection jfi

(Section jni

FORT DEBeUeViUE

FINIS

ny^wtinf 1^ AtyvRJS

LYONS

A Slimmer Voyage. 263

After some time we passed, on the left, the mouth of an
important tributary, the Seille, which takes its rise in the Jura
near Baume-les-Messieurs, in abounding springs. There cannot
be a greater contrast in the life of a river than that between the
early and the late existence of the Seille. It begins as a moun-
tain torrent, rushing through the deep, rocky ravines of the Jura,
then at Louhans it joins another such torrent, the Valliere, and
after that they flow together in one peaceable stream till they
end in " the gentle Saone." Had we not been pressed for time
and impeded by the hot weather, we might have explored this
river as far as Louhans, where it first becomes navigable. This
is its great distinction, as the Saone has no other navigable
tributary. 1

After passing a place called Farges, on the right bank, we had
a good example of the un-communicativeness that often marks
the peasant. Stephen was still at the tow-rope, and he ques-
tioned some peasants, who allowed him to go on without warning
till the Arar \\a.s engaged in a channel between an island and
the mainland. This channel was an impasse, being closed at the
lower extremity by an engineer's wall. We had consequently to
row back and turn the point of the island. 2 After that we gave
up towing as usual when the light is insufficient, and trusted
entirely to our oars.

The departed sun had left only an orange glow in the clear
western sky, and the moon was now bright enough to be of

1 The Doubs, it will be remembered, is not navigable where it joins the Saone,
though a part of its upper course has been canalised.

2 The same thing happened afterwards on our return from Lyons. There is a very
long island below Fontaines, and we rowed up the wrong channel, finding it barred by
a clayonnage. There was a peasant on the island, but he did not warn us. It would,
no doubt, be rather a pleasure to him to see two bourgeois labouring in vain.

264 The Sad ne.

great value to us. Nothing could exceed the perfect serenity of
the night. Not a breath of air disturbed the broad surface of
the river, and before us the distance seemed without limit except
that a light and lofty bridge was just dimly discernible. I
always profoundly enjoy these hours of nocturnal calm when we
are alone on the great river under moon or stars, and hear no
sound but that of our own leisurely rowing.

Stephen reminded me of an interesting ethnological tradition
concerning a village to our right, not quite two miles from the
river. When the Saracens invaded this part of France they left
it appears, a colony here which founded this village of Uchizy,

&*b^!ffi!^ *. r^^

A Landing-stage.

and it is said that until quite recent times the difference of race
between their descendants and the neighbouring French people
was very strongly marked. We regret not to have visited this
village, but we cannot leave the Avar except in safe keeping.

Passing under the bridge we remembered in time the existence
of a subaqueous wall more than a mile long, and kept to the
open channel. There was no sign of life but some dark houses
on the right bank, with lights shining in their windows and a
group of barges at anchor visible vaguely as a dark space with
very dim outlines. Having left the clayonnage behind us we
kept in mid-stream, and the river appeared to increase in width

A Summer Voyage. 265

till it resembled a lake. Here Maurice began to talk about the
opera, where he has been much more frequently than I, and he
illustrated his discourse by singing various romantic songs. This
animated Stephen who also favoured us. I was a little surprised
by this sudden musical ardour, and the more so that the crew
of the Avar never sing in drawing-rooms, but boating develops
all kinds of latent ability.

The moon being low in the west we decided to sleep on the
boat, being aware that lodgings were not to be had at the next
"port," or for several miles after it. It is a fixed rule of mine,
in this kind of travel, always to have the means of sleeping
comfortably on board our little yacht. She has no cabins, that
is to say, the six water-tight chambers in her hulls are too narrow
for use as berths, and, in fact, are employed only as pontoons. 1
The arrangement of the Avar will be best understood if I
describe what we did on the present occasion.

First we beach the boat, and as soon as her two hulls rest on
the sand the deck presents a perfectly steady platform, with no
risk of heeling over to one side or the other. The deck is
divided by partitions, the large middle compartment being called
the " chamber." We sling a long pole between the two masts
by cords running in pulleys. The roof line of a tent being
suspended to this pole we raise it by the pulleys, and then tie
the bottom of the tent outside the central deck. An arrange-
ment with oars and slender external side-poles helps to give more
room inside and opposes more effective resistance to a wind.

1 The hulls of a double boat made in Ireland contained four berths, but I have
never wished to sleep in the hulls, because they are low in the night fog, and often
contain a little bilge water. Hammocks well above the upper deck are, in my
opinion, much healthier.

266

The Saone.

No internal poles are necessary, as the masts replace them
admirably. The tent is pitched in a few minutes, and is
always handy when rain comes on, even in the daytime. In
a heavy shower we beach the boat and encamp till it is over.

On the present occasion we used the tent first as a dining-
room. It is of a warm, reddish-brown colour, and looks the

The Avar, with tents.
perfection of comfort with its flat wooden floor, like a room, and a
lantern suspended from the roof. The height of the tent allows
a man to stand up, so it appears lofty to us on our low chairs.

The moon set at 9.-3 1 when we pitched the tent. Having eaten
nothing since noon we appreciated the skill and foresight with
which our good hostess of Tournus had anticipated all our
wants. There are moments when the provision box is more
interesting than the box of books, and when three very hungry
men meet over a very good supper they may be merrier than
dyspeptic philosophers think mortals have any right to be. I
often admire the prowess of my young companions, but never
more than on these occasions.

A Summer Voyage. 267

As we were eating our grapes and peaches Stephen reminded
me that we had encamped exactly at this place last year under
very peculiar circumstances. We were sailing up the river by
moonlight when heavy rain came on, so we stopped to encamp
and passed the night under a downpour. There is nothing
remarkable in this, and it would not have been worth mentioning
but before the rain we had been in a perfect storm of ephemera.
You probably know those flies, but it is very unlikely that you
can ever have met with them in such prodigious quantities. They
have large white silky wings, and long, slender, pale-yellowish
bodies, and are said to live only for a day. That night they were
quite as numerous on the river as the flakes in a heavy snow-
storm, and it is the simple truth that they pelted against my face
in such quantities that I could scarcely see to steer. Whenever
one of them touched the boat he remained on it helpless, and the
consequence was that in about fifteen minutes the decks were
entirely covered with their bodies, in some places to the depth of
two or three inches.

To return to our encampment. We stretch hammocks for
Stephen and myself in the chamber, and another for Maurice in
the poop. Then we erect a small habitation for Maurice, whose
berth is not too spacious. His tent is fastened to the mainmast at
one end and to a short, upright pole at the other. It gives good
shelter from wind and rain, but he cannot stand up in it as we
can in ours. Nothing would be easier than to have a much wider
tent in the middle with hammocks over the hulls, but this would
occupy the gangways which we prefer to keep disengaged on each
side in case of sudden alarm at night.

Our clothes, books, papers, and sketching materials are kept in
japanned tin boxes with pill-box lids. These are not the most

268 The Saone.

convenient lids to open, but the advantage of them is that
everything remains dry inside, even in the heaviest rain. Leather
and wooden boxes are never to be trusted, and it is better to
reject them on an expedition of this kind.

And now you may fancy us fast asleep, as comfortable on
board the Avar as Mr. Vanderbilt on his big steam-yacht, our
one practical inferiority being that we cannot sleep and advance
on our voyage at the same time, but the earth will carry us
eastwards and bring us surely to the dawn.

LETTER XLIV.

MAcon, September $tk.

I rose early the next morning and made a study. When the
crew turned out of their hammocks they soon prepared for
sailing. Everything has its place according to two systems, one
called " night order " the other " day order," and each of us
knows the place of each detail under the two. There is conse-
quently no confusion, and I am spared the trouble of giving
directions.

Those young men had dined so heartily that there was nothing
in the provision-box for breakfast. Stephen found a piece of
dry bread for me and a pear. He had not even a glass of ale to
bestow on his aged parent.

The lack of food and drink decided our immediate departure,
it being quite contrary to rule that the Avar should be destitute
of provisions.

There being, as usual, no wind, we crossed the river for the

A Summer Voyage. 269

towing-path, and as we rowed observed a pair of magnificent
buzzards, the largest birds of prey except eagles which are found
in this part of France. The coolness of these birds is amazing.
When not much disposed for flight they settle on the bank of
the river, and if you follow them in a boat they will rise and
settle a little further, and so on, not taking the trouble to fly more
than is necessary at a time. They are not exactly lazy, but they
understand the economy of effort. 1 Their strength of wing is
great. I know a sportsman who once saw a buzzard fly across
the Saone carrying a hare in its claws. He fired, when the bird
(having crossed the river) dropped the hare in a field. On exam-
ination it proved to have been already emptied, but the muscles
remained intact.

Stephen towed the Avar vigorously enough till he came to an
embankment with a glacis of masonry. He walked on the top
of this, and as the water is low a herd of cattle had been driven
down on the bare ground between the glacis and the water to
drink. Our tow-rope passing above them kept clear of their
horns, but the water was extremely shallow and we grounded.
We found it most difficult to get off, as it was necessary to keep
the tow-rope stretched, and it constantly pulled the Avar to
shore before she could get way on her for steering. To add to
our perplexities there was a formidable bull on the embankment

1 On referring to Macgillivray {Rapacious Birds of Great Britain) I find this
passage on buzzards : "The birds, in fact, are not fitted for such headlong flights as
falcons, and are satisfied with a sufficiency of food, and when they have no curiosity
to satisfy, nor any amusement to engage in, they naturally take their rest. Buzzards
are generally in good condition, which proves that they are industrious." In France
a very stupid person is often called " une buse," but this is unfair to the bird, which
seems to be a practical philosopher. Why should he kill more game than he requires,
or trouble himself to fly further than is essential to his safety ?

270 The S aone.

which contemplated Stephen in an unfriendly manner; however,
nothing came of these little dangers, and if a cow had entangled
herself in the tow-rope I should have cut it at once.

At this time, wonderful to relate, there suddenly sprang up a
strong breeze. It was contrary, of course, as we do not seem
destined to have a favourable wind in the whole course of our
voyage, but any wind is better than tiresome calm.

At length we approached the suspension bridge of Fleurville,
and as Stephen towed the Avar sharply round the corner under
the bridge my anxiety was not for the boat. I desired to see a
certain person, and there she was, washing in the river ! You
may perhaps be curious to know the reason for my strong desire
to meet with this particular washerwoman. The reason is that
she is an excellent cook, and her husband keeps a little public-
house. It is really wonderful how well you are served in some
of these humble places on the Saone if only you know them.
Our dejeuner was fit for a prince : a great ripe melon, a dish of
perfectly fresh fish, then poulet saute, excellent cheeses, and an
abundance of pears, grapes, peaches for dessert, all served with
irreproachable neatness and cleanliness.

There is a window in the room where we had our
meal that looks out upon the Saone. On a former voyage
we dined here, and had a perfect view of Mont Blanc
all the time. Our host was not at all aware that Mont
Blanc was visible from his window, he had always taken
the mountain for a cloud. So we lent him our telescope and
made him see the dome and the aiguilles. At first all the snowy
parts were of a warm white, and the aiguilles dark by contrast,
then the white became rosy at sunset, and after sunset the moun-
tain remained visible for some time as a purple-grey silhouette,

A Summer Voyage.

271

both snows and aiguilles dark against the sky. A cloud rose
gradually behind it, exactly of the same hue, and after a while
we could only distinguish the summit of the mountain by its
well-known forms. The distance is a hundred miles.

This time Mont Blanc remained invisible though the day was
brilliantly fine. The breeze increased and got up a sea, but

adhfeuMMMki

Island of Fleurville from the Inn.

it was still against us, and on continuing our voyage we had to
beat to windward in a narrow channel the whole length of an
interminable wooded island. We had a short, chopping sea, and
the water was too shallow at the sides to permit the use of the
centre-board ; however, the A rar had sufficient lateral resistance
to go to windward without it. On this occasion she was exactly
in those circumstances which are most unfavourable to a
catamaran — rough water and short tacks — but in course of time
we got past the long island, and then the wind declined. After

272 The Saone.

the island a long subaqueous wall has been continued by the
engineers in the same southerly direction. Not knowing how far
this extended we had a mistaken idea that it had come to an
end, and ignorantly sailed straight at it. The keels struck simul-
taneously and rose upon the wall, bringing us to a dead stop.

This gave us an opportunity for examining the wall, which was
of strong masonry with a rounded top. Neither the wall nor
the ship seemed any the worse for the collision, and we ourselves
were perfectly at ease, for the boat retained her usual stability.
The deck sloped upwards, that was all.

Soon after this incident there was a dead calm again, and we
had to row. We talked of another incident that happened to
us in this part of the river in 1885. The heat was stifling, and
the south wind so feeble that Stephen had rigged out the tent as
a spinnaker to catch whatever there was of it. We were lolling
here and there on hulls and deck, trying to keep ourselves in
the shadow of the sails, when I happened to look to the south-
west and saw that a tremendous thunder-squall was coming,
dangerous shreds of cloud flying, as it seemed, straight at us,
and all the sky rolling like sudden smoke. Stephen got in his
tent and we had time to lower the mainsail, but the fore halyard
was impeded in its action by a piece of string that my son had
tied round the mast for his ingenious tent-spinnaker. In
obedience to a word from me, Maurice whipped out his pocket-
knife and severed the halyard just in time. Then the squall was
upon us, a fifteen minutes' tempest of such fury that the white
waves were up in an instant, and we ran for shelter under bare
poles into the port of Fleurville. 1

1 The only danger to a catamaran in a squall of this kind is that if too much canvas
is left upon her she may dive head foremost, not having great floating power in the

A Slimmer Voyage.

273

Having got the Arar off the wall we lowered our sails and
rowed on deliberately till nightfall. It is sometimes necessary
to stimulate industry by an edict, so I proclaimed that there
should be no dining till we reached the island of St. John,
exactly seven miles from the place where we struck the
clayonnage.' 1 We looked for this island down the long expanse
of grey river and made it out at last like a dim cloud suspended
between water and sky. This part of the Saone is as straight
as the railway, and you often see ahead for miles.

i^Sfe^

•-■.•. '•■'<: .-iV

jufVifr,,?! Jin Hmmii rrcpr

>m*JJg££

M&con from St. Laurent.

The island of St. John is about five hundred yards long by
one hundred in width, and is thinly wooded. We moored our
vessel to the southern extremity, and dined quite at leisure, as
we knew that Macon was easily within reach. On leaving the
island we saw the lights of Macon miles away, brilliantly
reflected in the straight reach of river, and they gradually
seemed to brighten till we found ourselves amongst them.

We moored our boat at St. Laurent, a distinct town exactly

bows. If I had to design a new catamaran I would increase the floating power
forward and have high prows as a precaution against squalls.

1 A seven miles' pull is nothing in a light rowing-boat, but in a sailing-craft
weighing eight hundred pounds it is more serious. The young men pulled nine
miles that evening, which, in muscular exertion, is fully equal to twenty in a skiff.

?74 The Saone.

opposite Macon. Here dwells Batafi close to the water-side.
He was already sleeping, when I knocked loudly and announced
the arrival of the Avar. As a fireman springs from his couch
when he hears the electric signal, even so sprang Batafi
from his bed, alert and ready. He knows the Avar, and
surely the Arar must know him, and the spot where he brought
her to her mooring, for Batafi is her guardian, and this is her
permanent home. 1

LETTER XLV.

Macon, September 6th.

The peculiarity of the present voyage is that we sleep in all
kinds of places, one night in a little rustic inn, another on board
the Arar, a third in a large hotel. We might, no doubt, have
slept regularly on the boat, but I dislike being encumbered with
bedding, so we have only rugs and hammocks, and do not undress
on board. Our floating accommodation is therefore reserved for
an emergency.

The hotel where we are staying at Macon is the Sauvage,
which merits a brief description. In the last century it was a
fine private residence belonging to one of the important families
of the place, a sort of palazzo. My bedroom has an old oak
parquet in squares. The door opens upon a vestibule, which
is wainscoted with elegant old-fashioned taste ; and another
door in the same vestibule is that of my study, formerly a

1 The Arar is kept at Macon when not in use, simply because Batafi is the most
careful and orderly man I have been able to find upon the Saone.

A Summer Voyage.

275

private cabinet in the old house. Nothing in travelling is so
agreeable to me as the occasional possession of a study, especially
a quiet little old room like this where I am now writing. It
seems like a sort of home, with my books on a shelf and a
spacious table to spread my papers.

There is a fine staircase in this house with some good forged
ironwork, and there is also good ironwork at the back of the
house in the narrow street. Some of the rooms are stately both
in size and decoration, with old-fashioned adornments of carving

Macon, the Hotel

du Saavage.

and painting and marble. One of them on the upper storey
retains much of its old magnificence, but has been divided. It
was probably a saloon put there for the view of the river.
Another good room on the second storey contains a bed and an
arm-chair which have some historical interest, as they were used
by Napoleon on his return from Elba. They are still in service
amongst the ordinary furniture of the hotel, but that their
historical character may be preserved care has been taken to
leave them exactly as they were in 181 5. The bed has four

276 The S cione.

slender fluted columns supporting a light iron framework, the
whole painted a pale grey. The chair is of the same style
and colour, with faded green upholstery. It has happened to me
sometimes, as to many other travellers, to be lodged in this room.
I dislike historical associations got up for the occasion, but you
may readily believe that it is quite impossible to sleep in that
bed without thinking of Napoleon. I have lain awake in it at
night wondering what could be the real state of his mind &t the
beginning of the Hundred Days. His reception at Macon had
been most enthusiastic ; the people themselves had made a little
local revolution in anticipation of his arrival, and that day
had been a successful day for him, but so cool a head as
Napoleon's was not likely to be intoxicated because Fortune
smiled on him once more. He must have clearly foreseen the
difficulties of the immediate future. One of his great superiori-
ties was his clear sense of the value of time, but that tells
both ways. One who knows the use of time also keenly
feels the want of it, and the difficulty of Napoleon's position
after his evasion from Elba was, that his enemies were not likely
to give him the time necessary to organise a really effectual
resistance. His anxiety would be far more about this want of
time than about the restoration of the empire, which he looked
upon as already achieved. The date of his stoppage at Macon
was the 13th March, 181 5 ; the next day he went on to Chalon,
and afterwards rode forward quietly by way of Autun, Avallon,
and Auxerre. Exactly a week after sleeping in that bed at
Macon he rested in the Palace of Fontainebleau. 1

1 Though the bed and arm-chair in the hotel at Macon are those used by Napoleon
the room is not the same. Napoleon's room has since been demolished along with
others to make space for the present large dining-room of the hotel.

A Summer Voyage. 277

The most remarkable event in the history of Macon is not
of a military nature. It is not the invasion of Attila who
pillaged it in the fifth century, nor that of the Saracens in the
eighth, or of Lothair in the ninth. There was a great and terrible
famine here in the eleventh century, but there have been terrible
famines elsewhere. There have been fearful religious wars at
Macon between Protestants and Catholics, but there have been
religious massacres in many other cities. The unique distinction
of Macon amongst the cities of the world is, that a Council of
the Church was held here in the year 585, during which learned
ecclesiastics argued solemnly on the question whether a woman
ought, or ought not, to be considered a human creature.

Like Tournus, Macon has a strongly southern character. A
reason for this may be that it belonged to the Provencal
kingdom of Aries after the division of the empire of Charle-
magne.

Roman Macon (Matisco) was not close to the river, but on the
height. In the Middle Ages the town was picturesque, as we
know from the remains of mediaeval fortifications still visible in
old views of the place. The bridge was grandly fortified at both
ends ; the town itself was surrounded by a wall with towers.
There were spires and towers of many churches, and a cathedral,
whilst the height once occupied by the Romans was the seat of
a mediaeval castle. Every change since then has been a diminu-
tion of the picturesque, but the town has gained in convenience
by the fine quays and by the modern French tendency to build
handsomely near a river.

I have never seim Macon under a more favourable aspect than
one August evening in 1885. A large and very complete military
band was playing in a lighted kiosk in the broad open space

278 The Sadne.

between the houses south of the bridge and the river. The gardens
and terrace there were occupied by a dense crowd sitting on
chairs or sauntering on the gravel. The cafes along the river
front were brilliantly lighted, and the tents opposite each of
them, on the other side of the causeway, were crowded. The air
was deliciously warm, not hot, but it had the kindly temperate
warmth of a southern summer night. The whole sky was
perfectly clear and serene, and in it, over the river, hung the full
moon in her most perfect splendour. On such a night the air is
not wholly stagnant ; you feel it gently moving, and now and
then a faint touch of it may silver the water under the moon, yet

" If zephyrs come, so light they come,

Nor leaf is stirred, nor wave is driven " •

There is always some powerful reason why we remember a
particular scene, a particular time, and the reason why that
evening remains in my memory is this : Amidst the crowd and
the music and the lights of the town, I had only to turn my
head to see one of the calmest and most lonely landscapes in all
France. There was the broad, tranquil river flowing slowly and
quietly to the south. Beyond it dimly stretched the vast plain
that ends only at the mountains of Savoy, a wide and open
country in which the villages are but as little groups of fishing
boats at sea. It was the strength of this contrast that fixed the
evening in my memory. Here we were in the heart of city life,
with the crowd and the music and the lights, and only a few
yards from us began the silence of the great spaces of Nature.

The statue of Lamartine stands here by the Saone like that
of Niepce at Chalon. It might have been more appropriate to
place it near his birthplace in the upper town, but here it is visible

A Summer Voyage. 279

to all who pass on the river. Unfortunately the statue is a little
ridiculous from its total absence of repose. The well-booted
poet is clothed in a mantle, the mantle of inspiration, and this
is blown about him in such a way that he seems, in the serenest
weather, to be inconvenienced by an unpleasantly high wind.
Of all the arts that of the sculptor most requires tranquillity.
A work of this nature ought to have been dignified and
monumental.

The house that is shown as the birthplace of Lamartine does
not answer to the grandeur of the description in his memoirs, and
there may be some confusion about it. The one I know is old,
but neither large nor stately, and it is in a narrow street. The
difficulty may be explicable in this way. Lamartine may have
been born, as he says, in the great house, but whilst still a
young child he went to live with his mother in a small one
because the family mansion was sequestrated. Both the descrip-
tion and the situation of the smaller house answer to that which
has always been shown me as the birthplace of Lamartine. He
describes the street as " a gloomy lane, narrow and silent as a
street of Genoa." If he lived there as a child, the inhabitants
of the street may easily have supposed that he was born there.
It was from this humbler house that his mother shot arrows
carrying letters across to the prison where his father was detained,
and also a file with which he filed a window-bar, and a thread
that served to draw up a rope that he used as a bridge for
nocturnal visits to his wife. If the narrative in the memoirs is
trustworthy he returned to his prison cell by the same means
before morning.

Lamartine is the great man of Macon, and was certainly one
of the most gifted among mortals. Besides his poetical genius,

2 So The SaSne.

which is indisputable, he had the gift of the most persuasive
eloquence and an attractively handsome person. The kind
fairies gave him the qualities that command admiration, but not
the wisdom that leads to happiness. He was an idealist out of
place in the world of reality, yet bearing himself with fine
courage when he came into contact with it,

LETTER XLVI.

Macon, September 6th.

Before leaving this historical town I must give you some
account of its present state. The Middle Age fortifications
have entirely disappeared. The bridge is still the old bridge,
but so much repaired and modernised that its age is revealed
chiefly by a certain pleasant irregularity. Some of the arches
towards the Macon side are either new or re-cased ; those
towards St. Laurent are the old arches. The bridge does not
go straight across the river, it is not level, and it has not a
uniform width. These are great merits in the eyes of an artist.
We might have preferred the stone parapet, which must have
existed in the Middle Ages, but it has been replaced by an
incongrously light iron railing. Still, it is the finest bridge upon
the Saone ; more than that, it is all that is left of the old bridges,
and after the numerous modern festoons of wire carrying a road
of planks, it is a pleasure to see arches of massive masonry,
and piers wedge-shaped and iron-armed to meet the wintry ice.
We may well regret the loss of the castles at each end, but they
have very rarely been preserved, that of Cahors being almost a

A Summer Voyage.

281

solitary example. The modern passion for convenience
demolishes everything that even seems to be in the way.
The bridge of Macon has a very fine tone of colour. It is
neither chilly nor dingy, but of a warm yellowish tone that
is singularly favourable to the best effects. On a moonless night

The Bridge at Macon.

it can be as gloomy as Hood's " Bridge of Sighs," when the
arches are dark over the black flowing river, but nothing can
exceed the mellowness of its colouring in the warm-toned
August moonlight, and in the most brilliant sunshine it is light
but never glaring.

Our first feeling about the churches at Macon is a grievous

282

The Saone.

sense of loss. The place is an ancient bishopric. In the Middle
Ages there was a cathedral which existed down to the Revolution,
when it was almost entirely destroyed. Nothing remains of it
now but its two towers, which have been lowered, and its narthex
of the twelfth century which is converted into a coarsely
decorated chapel. One of the most melancholy sights on the
banks of the Saone is a sort of lapidary museum of the
cathedral that once existed, kept in a little garden close by. It

Macon, St. Laurent.

is astonishing what a destruction of old churches there has been.
Chalon in the Middle Ages had fourteen, it has now three if you
include the Protestant chapel ; Macon had twelve, it has now
'three if you include the poor remnant of the cathedral. With this
exception the Macon churches are modern, an unmeaning structure
opposite the hospital, and a Romanesque edifice with twin spires
not far from the river. The exterior seems a little meagre, it
appears to lack the solid substance of the true Romanesque, but
the interior is effective and interesting, with the usual round apse

A Summer Voyage.

283

and chapels of the style. There has been a determined attempt
at mural painting in this church, with good effect in parts but a
lack of ensemble. Mural painting is always a dangerous ex-
periment. It ought to be strictly subordinated to the architec-
ture and carried through in one consistent spirit. If many
different artists are employed the church becomes a sort of

Macon, Towers of St. Vincent

and Prefecture.

picture exhibition, with the inconvenience that the pictures are
not afterwards dispersed.

I did not speak of the picture gallery at Chalon, and pass
this at Macon for the same reason. These little provincial
collections contain a few good examples of modern painting,
generally by men unknown in England, but they are lost amidst
a quantity of mediocre or bad work. The scientific and archaeo-
logical museums, and the public libraries, are not open to this

284 The Sadne.

objection, as in them we find interest for the mind without
offence to the eye. Of course there is an imposing portrait of
Lamartine in the gallery here.

The prettiest modern building in Macon is the Prefecture. It
is in that recent French Renaissance style which gives great im-
portance and elegance to the roof, and as the Prefecture is
situated on a steep which has been planted with massive trees
and adorned with terraces and stairs, it has a romantic aspect
like a palace in an opera. Beautiful as it is, it suggests
something more beautiful still. The river ought to have washed
the very foot of the steep and reflected the terrace and foliage
instead of being separated from it by a space of flat land with
houses, and there ought to have been a stately landing-place
with stairs going down into the water.

I took my English passport to the Prefecture to get a visa,
which was given at once and most courteously. The Chef de
Cabinet told me that the Prefect, who was absent, had left
instructions that a special French passport was to be pre-
pared for me, and that this would be forwarded to me en route.
Here is a new move easily traceable to the influence of the
British Embassy in Paris, as the Prefect would not have ordered
this passport to be delivered without instructions from the
Ministry of the Interior. 1

1 Since the Prefect had said that it was impossible for him to authorise sketching,
T had not applied for any further countenance from the Prefecture, and was surprised
to learn that there had subsequently been a move in my favour there.

A Summer Voyage. 285

LETTER XLVI.

Port d'Arciat,

September "jth.

Before leaving Macon we were invited to dejeuner by an old
officer, a friend of ours, who has earned his leisure by nineteen
campaigns, his only regret being that the Crimea was not
amongst them. We tried to console him by remarking that
he might possibly, like so many others, have left his bones
at Sebastopol, but military men do not take this much into
consideration, either in prospect or retrospect.

He is a humorous old gentleman and he entertained us with
some excellent stories, especially one about an unexpected
meeting with a lion. In our friend's younger days lions were
numerous in Algeria, and sometimes approached the outposts.
One moonlight evening he and some other officers, quite
unarmed, had gone outside a fort to the banks of a little
stream, where they suddenly perceived a very handsome lion on
the opposite bank within a very few yards of them. The humour
of the story lies in the skilful strategic movement of the officers,
which our friend describes without the least pretence to useless
bravery. His name is not Tartarin, and he is not of Tarascon.

What a pleasure it is to have to do with competent, quiet
people ! W T hat a difference between Batafi and the Patron of
the Boussemroum ! Batafi does what is to be done and vexes
not my soul with verbosity. Stephen and Maurice know their
work on the Arar, so I have simply to fix the hour of departure
and then step on board to find everything in its place. A
push with the boat-hook and the voyage is resumed.

286 The Saone.

Will there be any wind to-night ? The answer is ever the
same, calm and the toilsome oar, calm and the straining tow-
rope ! There is, no doubt, a profound poetry in wide expanses
of tranquil water, especially under moonlight, but it is like
always reading the same line from Moore : —

" All hushed — there's not a breeze in motion ; "

or this from Byron : —

" No breath of air to break the wave ; "
or Tennyson's : —

" Calm, and still light on yon great plain."

The note, you see, is the same, the expression only is different.
But the poetry that we should just now prefer to read in nature,
would, if we had the choice, be more of this quality : —

" A wet sheet and a flowing sea,
A wind that follows fast
And fills the white and rustling sail
And bends the gallant mast ;
And bends the gallant mast, my boys," —

and so on — not quite to the point of carrying all the gear over-
board, but enough for lively motion and just a little anxiety.

There being, however, not a breath of wind, the young men
rowed through the bridge, and as it fell behind us I turned
round and saw Macon under a rarely beautiful effect. The
moon was high in heaven, but the light was hardly moonlight
yet ; it was that indescribable yet exquisitely tender and
delicate illumination when what remains of the afterglow is
mingled with a beginning of moonlight. The old bridge
assumed a kind of pale golden brown, so mellow, so entirely
opposed to all coldness or crudity of colour that it harmonised

A Summer ]*oyage. 287

exquisitely both with sky and water, and seemed as fair as
they. As the Avar continued to descend the stream the long
quay was foreshortened and reflected with all its lights.
Even the white spires of the new church seemed poetical
in the magic light. The last sound that reached us was from
a chorus of singers, whose voices came to us softly rising and
falling over the water. Then we met a dark boat with rowers,
and some women in the boat sang also, not without sweetness.

After that I turned my back definitively on Macon and
paid more attention to my steering. Having passed under
the railway bridge (the line to Geneva) we had nothing before

i- II * & 4i nut ■

as^M ? ^^pr , ™ ,p, ^^ , ^— S5^?r~s

Macon from the Railway Bridge.

us but what seemed in the moonlight a long, calm, silent lake.
There was an island in this lake a mile or two below the bridge.
When we had left this island behind us, the scene became
one of the most perfect in its absolute unity that I had
ever beheld.

The moon had now gained strength, giving real moonlight,
and there was just enough mist to convey the impression of
vastness without concealing very much. Amongst the hills
to the right were plainly visible the pale silhouettes of two
remarkable cliffs, one of which is Solutre, close to the cave
where such prodigious quantities of pre-historic remains

288 The Sao fie.

have been discovered. These cliffs present a very striking
profile, the land rises in a gradual slope up to the edge of
them, and then there is a sheer precipice as if the hill had
been blasted away, but it is natural in both.

As we were now quite clear of the town, the young men
began to use the tow rope and I had good reason to con-
gratulate myself on the small draught of water of the Avar,
and also on her lightness, for the river was extremely shallow
near the shore, and she grounded repeatedly. Whenever she
does this, a man walks on each of her hulls and poles her

Cliffs of Solutre. '"- ~ — -

off easily, thanks to the entire absence of ballast and the
stability of the double construction.

Whilst Stephen was towing he found a great number of
quails, as many, he thought, as fifty in one place. They are
in season now, wonderfully plump birds, and as good to eat
as partridges.

At length the absolute solitude of this most tranquil and
peaceful scene was enlivened by a sign of human habitation.
Far to the south-west we could make out a dark spot on
the right bank more square in shape than a clump of trees,
and in the midst of this burned one brilliant star of golden
light reflected in the river.

A Summer Voyage. 289

What an advantage it is to know a river well already and
be your own pilot ! Stranger tourists would have seen no-
thing in that dark spot but a lonely peasant's cottage.
Stephen and I knew better. We shouted to Maurice, who
was laboriously doing his duty at the tow-rope. — " Maurice,
do you see that light ? It is the Palace of the Vatican ! "

" I understand. You mean the residence of the Pope."

The Pope is a fisherman, not a fisher of souls like the
representative of St. Peter. Everybody here has his sobriquet.
Batafi is not Batafi on the register, and there is nothing Papal
in the real name of the Saone Pope. How he came by his
Papal title I know not, but he has it for life, quite as securely
as Leo XIII, the fisherman by the Tiber.

As I have said that the light is in the window of a
fisherman's cottage you will imagine some very poor and
perhaps dirty little place. We, however, intend to spend the
night there, so as soon as we get opposite we take Maurice
on board and pull straight across.

The fisherman has nothing quite ready for supper, therefore the
provision box of the Arar supplies our repast, which is served
in the cottage. Then Maurice and Stephen play at billiards.
A billiard-table in a fisherman's hut? Yes, and more sur-
prising things than that, an external staircase leading to a
pretty balcony, both staircase and balcony adorned with a
luxuriant vigne vierge. The door of my bedroom opens upon
this, and I lean upon the rail and contemplate the peaceful
scene. First a broad space gravelled, with a summer-house
in it, then a garden, then the river-shore and the Saone itself,
broad and tranquil, asleep in the moonlight. My bedroom
is exquisitely clean, the woodwork all painted white, and

2qo The Saone.

there is a light paper on the wall. I have not the luxury of
a carpet, but the deal boards are spotless and dustless, and
the furniture good and sufficient. There is a prevalent good
taste about this little inn that is a constant pleasure. You
ask to wash your hands and are shown a little grotto with a
fountain trickling behind green leaves.

I remember sleeping in this room before and awaking in
the night with the vague idea that I was not alone. The
door that opens on the balcony certainly began to move, I
could see it distinctly in the moonlight. Then a ghost ought
to have entered but it was only a large dog, my friend Pataud,
the Pope's dog, a black and tan colley of the rarest size
and beauty. To-day I inquired after him and was shown
his skin, now used as a descente de lit, with a red cloth border
round it. Alas, poor Pataud ! He loved a comfortable rug
and has become the thing he loved.

A peculiarity of this place is that in summer the people
seem to live entirely in the open air. I have never seen the
Pope eating in the house, or even taking his glass in the
house, but always on a table outside under a great canvas awn-
ing, which is a permanent institution in summer. The Pope is
a very short, thickset man, of most muscular build, and his
summer costume invariably consists of light blue trousers
with a white shirt (both so clean that they look fresh from the
laundress), and a broad-brimmed straw hat with a scarlet riband
round it. The Pope is a man of substance. He has erected
this pretty inn himself with its commodious outbuildings.
He rents this great reach of the Saone, and goes down to
Lyons from time to time with the vivier in his boat full of living
fish. His trade is far larger than a stranger would ever imagine ;

A Summer Voyage.

291

sometimes he will take fish to Lyons to the value of several thou-
sand francs. His nets are hung in perfect order under a shed, they
are of enormous size, and very valuable. The success of his inn is
explained by the moderate distance from Macon, whence parties
come in summer as Londoners go to Richmond or Greenwich.
A wedding party came in five carriages during our stay and had
a fish repast. The Pope himself could not understand how these
folks were able to eat. " They have just had a big wedding

.'4-'. 1 *'«»
-'** sis

^gg

A House at Port d ' Arciat.

... ".^ssfes

— - . o^e--"

breakfast," he said, " at Macon, and they are going back to a
great dinner, yet this does not prevent them from eating plenty
of fish in the interval, and they have taken no exercise except
sitting in a carriage." The Pope has kiosks in the garden for
these parties. His success has been so marked that a rival inn
has been set up close by. I would rather be this Pope than
the one at Rome. See what a pleasant life he leads ! His
wife and servants do all the work except the fishing, and that
is an amusing occupation for those who like it.

U 2

292 The Sadne.

These little inns have often some celebrity for a particular
dish. Here we do not fail to order the traditional matelote,
the masterpiece of the Saone fisherfolks. A matelote contains
many kinds of fish cut into pieces and served in an abundant
sauce with red wine and toasts of bread therein. Its excellence
depends on the quality of the fish and the genius of the sauce-
maker, but when at its best it is indubitably a great invention,
enough to convert Lent itself into a festival. It may be a
cheap or an expensive dish. A matelote was once ordered of
a Saone innkeeper famous for his culinary talents, and carte
blanche was given as to outlay, so he compounded a chef
d'ecuvre and charged sixty francs for it. As I said at Verdun
the matelote, pauchouse, and bouille-abaisse are kindred dishes
invented originally by poor ingenious fishermen to make a
good meal out of such heterogeneous materials as they
possessed.

They served us here at another meal a large bream that
did not look at all promising. Its first aspect was that of
a dried fish served with hay instead of a sauce. Further
acquaintance only proved how wrong had been our first
impression. The hay was herbs dry only on the top, and
beneath lay a depth of savoury sauce which with the green
things made a succulent bog, or marsh, in the bottom of the
deep dish. As to gudgeons the art of frying them is
practised to perfection all along the Saone, but only a
Frenchman can love a friture with such constancy as to
enjoy one every day.

The scenery at Port d'Arciat merits a word of description.
From the inn to Macon, between four and five miles, there is a
vast green plain uninterrupted by hedges, like the plain near

A Sammer Voyage, 293

Ray on the Upper Saone, but more extensive and greener. There
is nothing to be seen on this great space but cattle browsing here
and there, as in the polders of Holland. To the west, at a dis-
tance of between two and three miles from the river, the land
rises suddenly in a hilly region with the cliff of Solutre and
another like it in the distance. The rising ground is enlivened
by villages and chateaux. To the south there is also a plain
extending for some miles, and the hills beyond it are more
mountainous in character. We have now reached a part of the
Saone where we shall be constantly accompanied by mountain
scenery at a distance of a few miles from the right bank. On
the left there is a great plain with very distant mountains some-
times visible beyond it.

It is wonderful how the simple fact of having made a voyage
together draws men to one another. In the evening came the
engineer and some of the crew of the boat that towed the
Boussemroum to Corre. The engineer greeted me heartily.
He talked about our present voyage and offered to tow the Avar
southwards. Unfortunately towing and sketching are almost
incompatible. He said that for our purposes the right boat
would be one with spacious cabins and a small engine steaming
five miles an hour. This would be practical but still expensive,
and there would be none of the pleasures of boating. It would
be the Boussemroiwz with steadier travelling power, paid for in
dirt and vibration.

294 The Sao ue.

LETTER XLVIII.

POKT DE THOISSEY,

September gt/i.

The pleasant inn at Port d'Arciat, and the want of wind,
detained us till yesterday afternoon, when a light breeze sprang
up and we continued our voyage. The liveliness of the Avar
makes her move sweetly in light breezes, and it is pleasant to
feel her free motion over rippling water. The wind not being
quite directly against us, we got along by taking what sailors
call a long leg and a short one. This was almost the perfection
of mild catamaran sailing in the pleasant sunshine on the broad
river, with beautiful mountains slowly altering position as we
advanced. At St. Romain the breeze fell and we drifted, though
by the force of the current only. There was an angler sitting
on the islet of the central pier, and he must have thought that
he had discovered three aquatic amateurs at least as indolent
as himself.

It became a moral necessity that somebody should make an
effort to clear us of this imputation, so Stephen shouldered the
tow-rope and we entered a pool about two miles long and of ex-
ceptional width. This pool is situated between the two
suspension-bridges of St. Romain and Thoissey. Calm as it
was now, we remembered the second of September, 1883, the
day of a great gale, that raised waves comparable to those of a
Highland lake. We were out here with the A rar in that gale
under double reefs, going before the wind from Thoissey to St.

A Summer Voyage.

295

Romain and beating all the way back. This we did at Stephen's
request as a crucial test of the Avar. We found her perfectly
safe, and our central deck remained dry though the water flowed
freely over the hulls, but it is well known that wave water is un-
favourable to catamarans. Notwithstanding their remarkable
speed on mere ripples they become sluggish in high waves, to
which their structure and their lightness are equally ill-adapted.
However, on that occasion the A rar was handier than I expected

The Beaujolais Hills from Thoissey.

her to be, and we returned to port at Thoissey without the
slightest accident or disorder. 1

Now, in this smooth lake, the Avar was moving lightly when
she disturbed the solitude of a group of girls bathing. They
hid themselves in the water, and let the tow-rope go over their

1 This is understated in the letter. Having returned as far as Thoissey, we con-
tinued in another reach of the river against the wind, and then returned with it. An
experiment of this kind is of the greatest value, as it leaves you entirely without
apprehension in all winds of inferior strength. The only danger that day was the
tendency to run nose under in going before the wind, which is a well-known defect of
catamarans.

296 The Saone.

heads. They were able to swim, but not with confidence or
style. Three hundred yards lower down we came upon a
numerous group of boys. All these were skilled swimmers, and
two of them came out at a great pace to the boat. As they
seemed breathless I told them to rest on the port hull, so they
sat upon it for a minute and then plunged again. Those nearer
the shore, rivalling their comrades, swam out vigorously to the
Avar, and, one after another, would sit for a second or two on
the hull, then plunge again with much laughter and splashing.
Can any momentary happiness be more complete than theirs ?
Wisdom herself might wish to be fourteen years old, swimming
about with merry comrades in a beautiful broad river, on a sunny
afternoon, without a thought of winter that will freeze the stream,
or of age that will chill the blood ! It is the perfection of
physical enjoyment, of mere living without a thought or a
care.

Thoissey itself is a village about a mile from the river. Port
de Thoissey consists of an inn and a few houses, and is con-
nected with Thoissey by one of the most beautiful avenues of
plane-trees I have ever seen. The inn at the port has the charm
of a delightful situation. It is well above the water, and just by
the garden flows a tributary of the Saone, the Chalaronne, which
offers here a delightfully safe little harbour for small boats. The
Arar could not use it on account of her masts, too tall for the
bridge on this river. Before the inn is a large square terrace
shaded by a flat thick roof of green, the foliage of many
oriental plane trees whose pale grey peeling trunks stand like
columns in a church. The art of cutting these trees to produce
this result is well understood in this part of France, but I have
never seen it practised with such complete success. The roof of

A Summer Voyage.

297

green is impenetrable by direct sunshine. After a blaze of
sunshine on the exposed river this terrace seems a paradise.

The peculiarity of our life at this inn is that we do not live in
it at all. We have our meals in the open air, on the terrace, and
we sleep in a large room in another building, quite rough in
comparison with our pleasant lodgings at Port d'Arciat. Every-
thing here is rough, yet the meals are served neatly on the

■■)',

VA f X
V 1

. -«.^^,^r2^5K^%i ; :i-"-.;,^{

Where we slept

at Port de Thoissey.

terrace, with all correct observances, down to cooling the wine.
There is a tendency in the dejeuner to repeat itself during the
present voyage — melon, matelote, grapes, and peaches reappeared
at Thoissey under the shade of the much-spreading oriental
planes. Peaches are almost as plentiful here as apples in
Normandy.

The most expensive restaurant in Paris would be less to my
taste than this terrace, with the broad Saone below, the -slender

298

The Saone.

masts of the Avar peeping up between the trees, and the hills of
the Bcaujolais beyond. It is perhaps most charming to dine
here late in a summer evening and enjoy the delicious coolness
an hour after sunset when the sky is still crimson in the west, and
the evening star is brightening over the obscure western shore.

Near Thoissey.

LETTER XLIX.

Port de Belleville,
September loth.

We quitted Thoissey immediately after dejeuner, and having
a favourable wind soon came to the lock. There was a steam-
tug in it but I saw that the gate was still open, and when we got
within hailing distance asked if we could go through at the same
time. 'We are waiting for you," said the lockkeeper very
politely. Had he not waited we might have been detained there
for hours as there is no obligation to open the locks for pleasure-

A Summer Voyage. 299

boats, and at present the keepers do not willingly spend the
water of the river, which is very low. When the water is super-
abundant they will pass a pleasure-boat even if it is alone.

Soon after leaving this lock a trifling accident occurred. A
block had been insufficiently fastened to the foremast at Chalon,
so it now came down suddenly, and the gaff and foresail with it.
This was a matter of small consequence, as Stephen immediately
climbed the mast and fixed the block more securely, but it
reminded us of an accident that once happened near the same
place. The crew was then composed of Captain Kornprobst,
Stephen, and myself, and we were on another boat rigged as a
sloop with one very heavy and tall mast. This mast had wire
shrouds, and the foot of it was fixed in what is called a tabernacle. 1
Owing to a little piece of lazy negligence on the part of the
workman who made the tabernacle 2 it was not strong enough to
resist the enormous leverage of the mast without the help of the
shrouds. There came a sudden squall, the shrouds snapped, the
tabernacle gave way under the sudden strain, and over went
mast and sails and all their gear into the Saone with a magnifi-
cent splash ! Being luckily quite unhurt, we soon got the
wreckage on board, after which we immediately rigged up the
boom as a jury-mast, turned the jib into a shoulder-of-mutton
mainsail, and sailed on to our destination which was thirteen
miles away.

Yesterday we had nothing but the west wind blowing kindly.

1 A sort of case for the foot of the mast that allows it to be lowered when passing
under bridges.

2 I could not explain this properly without the help of a diagram, but may say that
the workman's negligence was from the nature of the case, quite undiscoverable by
any one before the accident revealed it.

300 The Saone.

It was the plcasantest sailing and yet we were all melancholy,
the cause of our sadness being the knowledge, of which we
spoke very little, that our dear companion, Maurice, was to part
from us the next morning. He has to prepare for an examin-
ation in which boating, though a most profound science, is not of
the slightest value. The examiners have not included it in their
list of subjects, probably because they themselves could not tell
the difference between a vrisse 1 and a drisse? between a drisse
and a drosse 3 between an /coute 4 and an icoutille? And yet
without this elementary knowledge all learning is but vanity !

It was hard for Maurice, perhaps, that this last afternoon was
so agreeable. The Avar sped so smoothly over rippling water
with all her canvas set that we had not a care except that
this stealthy swiftness was taking us too quickly over the little
distance that remained to us. It had been sagely but reluctantly
decided in council at Thoissey that we were not to go beyond
Belleville, because Maurice must sleep near a railway station to
take the earliest train in the morning.

There are three considerable islands above Belleville, and also a
long clay 'otinage, the top of which was just above water as we passed,
with a fisherman perched on the end of it like an aquatic bird.
The current here is reputed to be very rapid. I have been told
that it is equal to the Rhone, but am sceptical about currents.
No stream is rapid that can be ascended by a tug with a train of
heavily-laden barges. 6

We like the personal freedom we have on board the Avar. It
is not like being cramped in a rowing-boat or a canoe. You

1 Tow-rope. 2 Halyard. s Tiller-rope.

4 The rope called a sheet in nautical English. 5 Hatchway.

' The speed of such trains seldom exceeds three miles an hour on the Saone.

A Summer Voyage. 301

may stand up, sit down, lie down, if you like, or take walking
exercise on the windward hull. With a favourable wind I leave
the navigation to the young men and sometimes read, often
looking up from the page to the passing scenery. It is delicious
to read poetry under such circumstances, especially if it tells of
aquatic travel in passages like the following : —

" in the night
They by the moon past the high cliff and white
Ceased not to sail, and lost the other shore
When the day broke, nor saw it any more,
As the first land they coasted, that changed oft
From those high cliffs to meadows green and soft. 3

Or this :—

" And the next day the long oars down they laid,
For at their back the steady south-west blew
And low anigh their heads the rain-clouds flew ;
Therefore they hoisted up their sail to it
And idle by the useless oars did sit."

This last line exactly describes our own indolence, but where-
fore toil when Zephyrus was taking us along too rapidly ? Too
soon we came in sight of the bridge where Maurice was to end
his voyage.

After landing, we found ourselves in a street thronged with
noisy peasants and neighing, excited horses returning from the
fair at Montmerle. The inns were so full that it was hardly
possible to enter them, and a hundred people were dining on
tables set outside. However, the Port of Belleville is only a
passage, people do not stay there, and we got bedrooms high up
in a lofty, ill-kept house.

There was nothing of interest in the place except one old
house with a turret. This is inhabited by a gentlemanly old man

302

The Saone.

with a long white beard, a red Arab cht'cJiia (a kind of fez) and
very good manners. I learned that before the Revolution the
turreted house had been the depository for salt. You are
aware that the withholding of salt from the people and the heavy-
taxation of it were amongst the most hated abuses of the old
regime. The turret is the monument of a past tyranny, exactly
like the pigeon-turrets still often met with where the grand
seigneur kept pigeons to feed on the peasants' crops.

Neither painter nor novelist could have found a better sug-
gestion for tale or picture than this old white-bearded gentleman,

Montmerle from Port de Belleville.

living alone in his antiquated house. I felt a curiosity about
him, and had ample opportunity for gratifying it as he passed
a long time at our inn, or rather, in the open space before it
where we were dining. There was a certain Philistinism about
the house itself, but the scene in front of it was far from common-
place. I sat at dinner looking towards one of the finest reaches
of the Saone, now in brilliant moonlight with an island in the
distance, and near the island a height on the left bank, and on
the height the towers of an old castle and church. In the fore-
ground sat the white-bearded gentleman talking with animation,
his fine countenance and red fez splendid in the glowing lamp-

A Summer Voyage. 303

light. After a busy life in Algeria he had settled here to spend
the evening of his days by the Saone, angling from dawn to
dusk. We discovered another angling philosopher of the same
kind, perfectly solitary, who had no reason for living at the
Port of Belleville, except that he happened to be there. The
nooks and corners about the islands here may have a strong
attraction for these brethren of the rod.

LETTER L.

Beauregard, September nth.

Maurice has left us, greatly to our regret and to his own.
His disposition is lively and merry, which does not prevent him
from bearing the delays and annoyances of a voyage with the
most exemplary patience. Every such voyage has its draw-
backs. This time the drawbacks have been dead calms and
terrible heat, and our slow travelling, naturally tiresome to young
people, has been made slower still by my sketching, but Maurice
takes it all as it comes. Prompt in obedience, 1 cool in emer-
gencies, 2 equally ready to enjoy a pleasure or put up with a

1 For example, on one occasion, when beaching the boat in a strong wind, I was
afraid that some large stones might injure the rudders. Maurice was over the side in
an instant, working up to his chest in the water to get the stones out of the way.

2 After swimming in the middle of the river for a considerable distance with Stephen
against rather a strong current, Maurice suddenly felt exhausted. Stephen said,
" Put your hands on my shoulders." Maurice did this, and after some time Stephen
asked him to take them off, which he did instantly, not touching the stronger swimmer
again till invited to do so. It is scarcely possible to imagine a severer trial of self-
control.

304

The S aone.

hardship, always willing to help with his hands to the utmost of
his ability, he is exactly suited to an expedition of this kind,
and it is useless to think of replacing him.

Stephen and I resumed our voyage yesterday afternoon against
a head wind, and for a second time had to beat to windward in a
narrow channel between a long island and the mainland. This
island is one of the largest on the Saone, but is noticeable only
for its size. After passing it we came to Montmerle, a long
village close to the river with the too much modernised remains

Afontmerle
from the South.

of a castle and a church, on a height that Turner would have
elevated to sublimity.

The wind had now entirely fallen, and the boat ran aground
which saved the trouble of anchoring, and enabled me to make
a sketch of Montmerle. I was cheered at work by the music of
a band in the fair. The hills to the west in the department of
the Rhone made a beautiful picture here with the mouth of the
little river Mezerine which loses itself in the Saone at this place.
It was one of those rare moments when Nature herself produces
her most lovely harmonies of colour, this time in her tenderest
greys.

A Summer Voyage. 305

We pursued our voyage by rowing alternately at a slow pace,
there being nothing to hurry us. The scenery below Montmerle
is very rich in wood and meadow, and the river broad, with an
imperceptible current. Though a breeze was denied to us the
voyage was still enjoyable, indeed Stephen remarked, at the very
time when he was labouring at the oar, that there was no travel-
ling comparable to this, with the beauty of the river all to our-
selves, and our indifference about arriving at any destination.

After an hour of solitude, I heard the footsteps of a man on
the left bank but could see nothing, as he was in the gloom of
the trees. However, I called to him and asked a question.
Then a voice came to us from the shades with friendly advice
about a clayonnage lower down. We never saw the speaker, or
any sign of him. It was really, for us, a case of Vox et prtzterea
nihil.

The moonlight now brightened, the river seemed still wider
(the result of a slight haze), and after some time there sprang up
an almost imperceptible breeze, so faint, so faint, that it just
silvered the water under the moon. It was dead against us, but
we spread all our canvas and began beating to windward.
"Well," said Stephen, "if the A rar will come round in this she
will do it out of pure good will." As he spoke, she came round
very prettily, to please us.

Sailing with so faint a breeze is idleness, as we can row more
rapidly, but we deeply enjoy the solitude of the broad river, so
beautiful in the moonlight. Stephen declared that one such
night is worth ten years of the life of a proviseur} Our pleasure
was simply in the beauty of nature, as we had no luxuries on
board, there being nothing but bread and cheese in the provision-

1 Head of a lycee.

306 The Saone.

box. On this \vc supped contentedly without regretting the
llc^h-pots of Belleville and the crowd of noisy horse-dealers
from Montmerle.

After an hour of this lazy sailing the wind fell completely, so
that there was a moon in the water as perfect as the other in
the sky. Stephen resumed the oar, and I made out the distant
bridge of Beauregard with the binocular.

The people at Beauregard being all asleep we took the Avar
to a sheltered corner and speedily established " night order " —
not too speedily, for we were hardly under the tent when it
began to rain.

Our berth was near the bridge, and next morning we heard a
long procession of waggons crossing from Beauregard to
Villefranche. As each waggon came near the end of the bridge
the driver uttered an exclamation, and all the drivers said
nearly the same thing. There is not much curiosity about the
boat itself; it is the tent that awakens interest, because travellers
are supposed to be inside it.

We crossed over to the inn, and being at once recognised
were very cordially received. Not only was the master the same
that we had known several years ago, but the servants had not
been changed. The master is an old Saone pilot with a brown
skin, clean blue clothes and gold earrings, his wife is a lady
who understands the tastes and feelings of the better class.
Perfect order and the most scrupulous cleanliness give one the
impression of being on a visit in some well-kept private house.
Immediately in front of the inn there is a courtyard shaded with
a canopy of oriental plane-trees, as at Thoissey. Beyond this
courtyard is a garden with five summer-houses or pavilions in it.
The garden is in the same state of order as the house, not a

A Summer Voyage. 307

fallen leaf upon the walks. There is a shady terrace at the end
of the garden by the Saone, well above the level of the water,
and on this terrace are tables and lounging chairs, where one
may rest deliciously in the heat of the day and enjoy that
famous view which has won for the place the well-deserved name
of Beauregard.

This view is a panorama of the hills of the Beaujolais, from
nowhere better seen than from this terrace. The mountain
outline extends for sixty or seventy miles, and is extremely
varied in character. Far in the folds of the pale grey-purple
hills you see innumerable white villages and many isolated
farms. The detail is without end, especially if you explore it
with a telescope. That small speck on the knoll is shown by
the telescope to be a chapel, a place of pilgrimage. That other
speck is a farm, so high and lonely that the farmer must hear no
voices but those of the four winds. Chateaux and towers are in
the pleasanter situations. The background of mountains rises
to the height of those in the north of England. St. Rigaud, the
highest summit, measures 3,319 English feet. These mountains
are generally bare of trees, but beautiful in their changes of
pale aerial colouring of greys, purples, and greens.

I wrote all morning in the garden, seated in one of the
excellent lounging chairs and with this remarkable view before
me. The servant came naturally to lay the cloth for us
out of doors. It seems to be taken for granted that every one
prefers a repast in the open air.

The village of Beauregard contains some picturesque houses,
quite of a southern character, with projecting eaves and a pre-
dominance of brown or ochrous colouring enlivened with the
green of their vines. Behind the village there is a gorge in the

X 2

3 oS

The Saone.

hills, and just to the south of this the castle is situated very
grandly on one of the finest sites near the Saone. The present
castle is modern but one or two of the old towers have been
preserved. The design of the modern building shows in one
thing an appreciation of artistic possibilities. The castle is in
two principal masses connected by a central structure on three
large open arches, and from the garden behind you see the
Beaujolais panorama framed in these arches like a triptych, a
most successful combination of architecture and landscape.

Beauregard from the South.

The rich scenery about Beauregard, the hills, the woods, the
avenues on the left bank of the river and the open country on
the right, make it a charming place for walking, and we spent
the whole evening in the bright moonlight according to the
custom established on the Boussemroiim. The beauty of this
place made Stephen give me a long and enthusiastic description
of the beauty of Algiers. All who know Algiers intimately
have the same enthusiasm, the same longing to go there once
again.

A Summer Voyage.

>09

LETTER LI.

Tr£voux, Septe7nber 12th.

Our voyage from Beauregard to Trevoux was an enchant-
ment. The scenery is lovely, the weather was perfectly beautiful,
and we had just enough wind to speed the Arar as fast as we
care to travel. With all our canvas set, and never either a spurt
or a stoppage we kept the pace of a good walker, and so steadily
that I was able to make several slight yet not unfaithful sketches
of the shore.

Beauregard from the West.

After Beauregard the left bank takes a more broken character,
with steep and strongly formed natural buttresses. Riottier is a
charming little village with picturesque brown buildings and
green vines and a clean-looking inn quite close to the river.
Above the village rises a steep mamelon clad with vines and
crowned by a little tower. The view on the opposite side of the
river is much more extensive, there you have a vast range of
elevated country interesting to explore with the binocular. It is

3io

The Saone.

dotted all over with hamlets, farms, or chateaux, new and old.
We noticed one very large modern house in its own luxuriant
woods. Costly residences begin on the Saone a little above
Macon, and increase in number after Thoissey, becoming
gradually more frequent as the river approaches Lyons. We

The Arar with a fair wind.

observed that at Beauregard it was already quite possible to
guess (if we had not known from the map) that we were
approaching a wealthy city. There is a small chateau near
the water to the south of Beauregard, that has all the finish
of Parisian building. It looks like a rich Parisian's, dwelling

A Summer Voyage.

at Passy or Auteuil placed on a smooth green lawn in the fairer
landscape of the south.

Here we find ourselves between Villefranche and Anse, a
region celebrated for its beauty even in a popular proverb :

" De Villefranche a Anse,
La plus belle lieue de France."

The rural poet who made this rhyme had perhaps not visited
all the leagues in France, and his praise is certainly exaggerated,
but it is honest exaggeration, due to love of the native land.

Riot tier from
the North.

Anse is half a mile from the Saone, but it is connected with it
by the river Azergues. I have not explored this stream (fit only
for a canoe), but think it not impossible that it may be the most
beautiful tributary of the Saone, except, of course, the Doubs,
which is an ally rather than a tributary. The Azergues is
scarcely more than forty miles long and flows entirely through
picturesque valleys. Anse was an important Roman station and
there are still remains of Roman walls. Augustus had a palace
here which has long since disappeared, but some remains of it

3 1 -

Thc Saonc.

were used to build a chapel that afterwards became a warehouse,
the last state of an imperial dwelling.

Being anxious to reach Trevoux, where my correspondence
was awaiting me, I did not, to my regret, take the opportunity
of visiting Anse to see the great mosaics which once adorned a
Gallo-Roman mansion, and, having been preserved and protected
in their place, are now classed as historical monuments. There
is also a mediaeval castle at Anse, or the remains of one.

It is probable that the Romans liked Anse because it is so
well supplied with water. One of the fountains has the ex-

- -/T

Riottier from
the South.

tremely convenient property of flowing most-abundantly in times
of drought, like the most opportune charity.

Opposite the mouth of the Azergues is the chateau of St.
Bernard, which has the look of new masonry in old forms, but
who can look at St. Bernard, or anything else, when Trevoux
comes in si<jht ?

The approach to Trevoux from the north is made into a more
complete picture than common, by the presence of some beauti-
fully wooded islands and islets on the right hand exactly where
they are wanted. The first thing visible is the old castle of

A Summer Voyage*.

313

Trevoux on its commanding height, an octagonal keep, two
or three other towers, and some massive fragments of the con-
necting walls. The keep is built in bands of differently coloured
stone, but grey is the predominant colour of the ruins. As you
approach, the town itself becomes more distinctly visible. It
rises on a very steep slope from the river to a point below the
castle, and is composed of a most picturesque medley of houses

- .- ■

Tr&vaux from the North.

with a number of little towers. Many of the houses are capri-
ciously coloured in a southern, almost Italian taste, but these
pinks and ochres give no worse effect at a distance than a
general impression of warmth. I remember seeing them glow
in the red light of a sunset, when the city turned perfectly
crimson.

As we were landing our things on the slope near the quay, a
coal merchant kindly offered the use of his little boat if I

314 The Saone.

desired to anchor the Avar at a distance. The navigation on
the lower Saone being now resumed, it is necessary to keep our
boat away from the towing path. We therefore anchor her
systematically in the river nearer to the opposite shore. Our
new friend was most obliging, and brought us away from our
ship when she was anchored. During our stay at Trevoux he
kindly placed his boat at our service.

Being within a myriamctre of a fort (that on the Mont d'Or)
I am liable to imprisonment for sketching, so I was glad to find
at the post the expected French passport with a personal recom-
mendation. Having also a special recommendation in the
French language from the British Embassy I may escape any
lengthened detention, and yet these passports are not what the
law requires, which is a permission from the military authorities,
and that, in any producible form, I shall certainly never obtain.

The finest sight in Trevoux is the famous view from the
terrace. This we did not fail to see at the best time, a little
after sunset. It naturally suggests a comparison with the well-
known view from Richmond Hill. It is not any recent passion
for the Saone that leads me to prefer the view from the terrace
here. It is grander for two or three reasons, but especially
because it includes mountains. The Mont d'Or is hardly a
mountain, being only two thousand feet high, but it has
picturesque forms, it rises conspicuously from a low country,
and it is near enough to be imposing. This is to the south-
west. The view on the north-west is bounded by the hills
of the Beaujolais that we saw from Beauregard, and immediately
in front, in the west, is a remote mountainous distance extremely
graceful in form, as seen from here range behind range to the
crests of the Tarare Mountains, as high as Skiddaw or Helvellyn.

(FN

5
r

■to \;;?:f?^lfe^f

A Summer Voyage. 3 1 5

These hills divide the Saone from the Loire, the two rivers being
here only thirty miles from each other as the crow flies. This
description is not intended to convey the idea that the view from
Trevoux is a grand mountain panorama. It is not that, but a
lowland scene of the most exquisite beauty, with the added charm
and poetry of remote mountainous distances. The perfection
of the scene from Trevoux consists in the presence of different
elements in sufficient but not overpowering strength. The river
sweeps in one magnificent curve from north to south, calm as
the tranquil sky that it reflects, its breadth spanned only in one
place by the thin festoons of the suspension bridge. There are
the well-wooded islands above the bridge, and graceful groups of
trees on the rich green banks below. Beyond the river a fertile
plain stretches far away to the foot of the Mont d'Or, and the
more distant mountains of Tarare. Those of the Beaujolais rise
in pale azure beyond the darkening woods.

" Stephen," I said, as we were gazing together in silence on
all this, " I think that in the way of beauty — not grandeur or
sublimity, but beauty only — this is the most perfect scene I have
ever beheld, and we are here at its own hour. It can never
have been more beautiful than now. There is enough, but not
too much, of light, the colouring is as harmonious as a Titian
and nothing is too sharply defined. The moon is brightening,
the red in the western horizon is lingering still, but not for long.
Let us go before it changes more ! "

So we buried ourselves in the thick shade of the pathway that
goes down to the river-side, carrying away in memory the fairest
landscape on the Saone, perhaps the fairest scene in France.

3i6

The Sao/ie.

LETTER LI I.

Tr£voux, September 14J/1.

There is such a glamour in romantic history that a place like
Trevoux gains infinitely in interest when we know that it is not
only very old and picturesque, but that it was once the seat of a

Trevoux, Rue du Port.

line of sovereigns, though they were but princes and had not a
very extensive territory.

Trevoux has a history as romantic as its situation. It was
the capital of the Principality called to this day ■ Les Dombes."

A Summer Voyage. 317

One of its princes was made prisoner at Agincourt. After
fighting against the Counts of Savoy and the Dukes of Bur-
gundy, the Principality was recognised and respected, and long
retained a degree of independence that is very surprising in the
case of a state neither large enough to be really powerful nor
little enough to escape attention. The later princes of the
Dombes lived at Paris, but retained almost complete sovereign
powers. They could create nobles, coin money, levy taxes, and
condemn to death. They had a Privy Council of their own at
Paris and a Parliament sitting at Trevoux. The final annexa-
tion of Trevoux to the French crown only took place about the
middle of the eighteenth century.

The Principality of Les Dombes was remarkable for the pro-
digious number of its fish-ponds. In the Middle Ages these were
less numerous, but in the eighteenth century there were more
than a thousand of them. They have since been reduced to
about half that number, for sanitary reasons. Since their
diminution, marsh fever has become much less prevalent. Some
of these ponds are of considerable size ; that of the Grand
Birieux covers about eight hundred acres. This land of ponds
would still be a most curious region to explore with a tent and a
canoe, and I have not a doubt that it contains many strange
landscapes highly interesting from an artist's point of view, but
the dread of marsh fever keeps me out of it.

The upper town of Trevoux is now little more than a single
street, and there is an ascent to it for pedestrians by a stone
pathway winding in a curiously Italian little street of its own,
with immensely tall gaunt houses on one side, whose lofty
windows command the river and the plain. The lower town
is not much more than a line of houses by the Saone.

3i*

The Saone.

Seen from the bridges, Trevoux abounds in curious details,
remnants of mediaeval times. The steep street that comes down
to the bridge has one or two fine tall mediaeval houses, and close
to the quay there is an old oriel window.

A false bed of the Saone above the hospital remains a marshy-
pond when the river is low, and with its rich trees and aquatic
vegetation presents some beautiful pictures. After we had
visited this on the evening of the 13th, we dined as usual out
of doors, when there came a sudden squall with thunder and

§JyA

mas iissswfj

■*=-^--

Trevoux,

the Bridge.

rain. The diners passed all that was on the tables with surprising
rapidity into the hotel through the windows, a very amusing
scene. Amongst the company was a gentleman about twenty-
two years old, weighing twenty-six stone. He is healthy, good-
looking, has very animated and pleasant manners, and is wonder-
fully active, being a good walker and a lively dancer. He is built
in proportions like those of Raphael's baby-angels. I saw him
quite in the stern of a small boat whilst another man rowed.
He seemed in great peril as the stern almost foundered under

A Summer Voyage. 319

him whilst the prow rose high in the air, but he only enjoyed the
humour of the situation. It was exactly that of " The Wee
Man " in Hood's comic sketch. 1

After the thunderstorm we took a moonlight walk, and when
we looked for the Arar there was not a boat to be seen. Could
she have foundered in a squall ? Impossible, with six water-
tight compartments ; but whither had she gone ? Following the
direction of the wind, we presently discovered her serenely
anchored in another place. Fairy sailors had navigated her, and
chosen a safer anchorage. She had dragged her anchor during
the squall and passed under the bridge. Here was a fresh
reason for moderation in the height of her masts.

LETTER LIII.

Neuville,
September 16th, Morning.

We quitted Trevoux in the evening of the 14th. Immediately
below the town the river is not wider than the Upper Saone,
which it closely resembles, but it expands afterwards. The
moon was now high in heaven, and we had a fine disengaged
view of the Mont d'Or, so that the effect in the bright moonlight
was quite that of a lake. In this lake were several small
islands, and Stephen at once drew my attention to them for a
particular reason. The earth of these islands was quite invisible,
their place being indicated only by their trees, the trunks of
which were partly under water, exactly as if the country were
inundated. In fact, it was a misnomer to call them islands at

1 See Hood's Whims and Oddities.

»2o The Saone.

all, since they were not surrounded by water, but submerged.
We then rowed to the right bank to examine the state of the
shore, and found there also the inexplicable appearance of
Inundation. The ground, it is true, was more elevated and there-
fore out of water, but the belt of trees stood in it as cattle do on
a hot day. " Can there be a flood ? " we asked, " or are we the
victims of some extraordinary delusion ? " A moment's reflection
set aside the notion of a flood, as the river was low at Trevoux,
and could not have risen since we left, and as for delusion,
the A far roosted like a bird amongst the upper branches.
The difficulty was explained to us afterwards. A weir and
lock had been established at Port Bernallin, below the islets,
since the trees had grown, and these works, aided by a dyke
on the left shore, had formed a reservoir of water, which had,
in fact, flooded the islands and produced a purely local inun-
dation.

In the midst of this pool the weir was not visible by moon-
light, and we could have imagined ourselves on some broad
river of America.

With the great mass of the Mont d'Or rising pale in the south
and looking far vaster and more distant than it really is, the
scene was the grandest, so far, on our voyage, though unfit for
pictorial representation of any kind. We quitted it reluctantly
to set up the tent on the Avar and have our supper, after which
we enjoyed such an excellent night's rest that when we began to
stir in our hammocks the sun of a new day was already warm
upon our habitation.

" I notice, Papa," said Stephen, " that whenever we sleep on the
boat you seem more refreshed the next morning and have a
much finer appetite than after a night passed in an hotel."

A Summer Voyage. 321

The reason may be that there are no smells on a catamaran,
not even bilge-water. In fact, the arrangements are sanitary,
except that we are near the water, but we are raised far better
above the surface mist than in the cabin of an ordinary boat. I
have never, hitherto, got anything but benefit from sleeping on a
catamaran. There is a prudent and a reckless way of doing
everything, even gipsying.

We arrived at the lock just in time to see the public steamer
Parisien, a pale green vessel, 245 feet long, her decks crowded
with passengers and luggage. 1 The Arar was moored against
the glacis to let the great ship pass, when, lo ! in the opposite
direction and quite close to the same glacis came a steam-tug
with its train of boats. Apparently these must crush the Arar,
but I had confidence in the steersman's skill and in the usual
Saone civility. He managed his train beautifully and, of course,
spared us. When the tug stopped I was amused to see a fat
pilot lightly leap ashore without a gangway, other men repeating
the same exploit, and the women laughing at their agility. I
made their (the men's) acquaintance, and asked to be towed.
They readily consented, and we went through the lock together.
When the water had descended to its lower level, Stephen
was still on the quay, but he let himself down with a rope,
hand over hand, and very soon the Arar was going by steam.

1 Not long after our voyage this vessel foundered in consequence of striking against
the spur of the Vaise bridge (just above Lyons) in a fog. The captain, M. Meynier,
behaved with remarkable presence of mind. He got his sinking boat alongside a
barge, counted all the passengers carefully as they left his vessel, perceived that one
was missing, and went himself to seek through the cabins up to his chest in water,
and with the probability that before he could get out again the sinking ship would
make her final plunge. A last he found a woman paralysed with fear standing
on a table and carrying a child. The captain took both in his arms and brou^h*
them safe to the barge, the Parisien foundering immediately afterwards.

522

The Saone.

I have never seen anything in the way of locks so magnificent
these great locks on the Lower Saone. They are, in fact,
more like clocks than locks, and can contain a great train of
enormous barges with one or two steamers all at the same time.
In passing a lock along with very heavy boats on a comparatively
delicate thing like the Arar, it is best to keep behind and

St. Germain an Mont a" Or.

contrive to be the last, so that when the steamer begins to tug
its train out of the lock you may not get crushed between the
oaken side of some huge rude barge and the granite wall of the
basin.

Going by steam was quite exciting after our usual lack of
motion, but I object to being pulled along through beautiful
scenery without permission to stop and sketch it. We were in

A Slimmer Voyage. 323

the finest reaches of the Saone, with a view of the Mont d'Or
directly in front of us.

This basin, between the lock at Port Bernallin and Neuville,
is the seat of the most refined boating on the river. It is the
Solent of the Saone.

As the Avar went rather speedily behind the steam-tug (the
train being light) we passed two or three rowing boats of delicate
Parisian build. One of these was rowed by a gentleman in grey,
with three charming little boys all dressed exactly alike in dark
blue jerseys with soft hats of scarlet felt. He looked at our boat
with evident interest, and made an attempt to follow, but the
steamer was going too fast for him. We landed at Neuville and
found, not an inn, but a pleasant little cafe restaurant close to
the water, so I persuaded the people to lodge us. This being
settled, we took the things out of the Avar, when the gentleman
with the three little boys came alongside. In the kindest and
most gracious way he offered to do all in his power to be of use
to us. He was the owner of a pretty sloop, moored to a chain
in the river, and he helped us to moor the Arar to the same
chain. Then he took us to see his garage, a long building near
the river full of boating things, all kept in the most perfect
order. Like many amateurs of boating, our new friend likes to
work with his own hands. He showed us a portable canvas boat
that he had made himself, and there was another sloop in the
garage, keel uppermost, that he was engaged in caulking. He
had a Canadian canoe, bought in London, and other interesting
things. "But this is nothing," said M. Vibert, "there is another
garage close by which is far superior to this. I must take you
to it now." He then guided us past the bridge where another
yacht was at her moorings, and introduced us to his friend

Y 2

324

The Saoue.

M. Zipfel, who has a pretty house and garden close to the river-
side In the garden is a very long, well-lighted building that
might serve for an infant school. This is the garage. It is a
sort of museum of the prettiest boating toys and, in fact, is kept
as neatly as any museum can be. M. Zipfel works with his
hands, too ; but few amateur boat -builders could compete with
him in delicacv and finish.

Petite Amie in a Light Breeze.

There are several small yachts in the Port of Neuville, all of
the same type, namely, the centre-board sloop, which is found
most convenient for the river. We visited two of these,
M. Vibert's Petite Amie and M. Zipfel's Croquemitaine. Every
place soon acquires its own boating character. At Chalon this
is scientific, but rather rough, and the local building is done in
steel ; at Neuville both the boats themselves and all their
belongings are kept with a perfection of care and order that

A Summer Voyage. 325

cannot be excelled anywhere. They are of Parisian build, and
of wood. M. Zipfel has a light centre-board boat for rowing and
sailing that he lent us for an excursion to the Albigny Islands.
M. Vibert and a friend of his offered to row us, the little
cardinal-hatted boys accompanied us, and in a few minutes our
voyage had assumed quite an unexpected character. It was no
longer the Saone, for the long channel to the right of the islands
was like a narrow, but exquisitely beautiful river, hitherto utterly
unknown to us. 1 It was no longer our own voyage since we had
completely lost sight of the Arar. Here were friends treating us
with the utmost kindness whom we had only known an hour. We
were so completely disconnected from the past of the day before,
and even of that very morning, that the present did not seem real.
If a dream, it was a pleasant dream ! Nothing could be more
beautiful than this channel, completely hidden from the main
river by densely wooded islands, whilst the mainland is hilly and
picturesque, with a finely situated tower. The islands are six
in number, in a chain a mile and a half long. They take their
name from Albinus, the rival Emperor to Severus, who had a
splendid villa with fine gardens on the right bank opposite the
isles, one of the prettiest sites upon the Saone, afterwards
occupied by a feudal castle.

1 I had never explored this channel, knowing this part of the Saone only by voyages
on the public steamer, and without our new friends it would have remained unknown
to us, as we naturally avoid such passages for fear of obstructions.

^26 The SaSne.

LETTER LIV.

St. Ram BERT, September I'jtk.

The Arar has reached her destination at the lie Bar be, just
above Lyons. I have no intention of taking her through the
city to the Rhone. The Saone in Lyons is so protected by high
embankments and tall houses, and precipitous hills above them,
that sailing is quite out of the question, and I dislike rowing
a heavy ' boat, short-handed, in a crowded water thoroughfare
with fast little steamers flitting every five minutes through the
bridges.

Sailing boats require something in the nature of a lake.
Chalon possesses this in the quiet and well-exposed reaches
between that city and Verdun on the Doubs. Neuville has its
lake in a beautiful basin as long as Derwentwater. This basin
has all the characteristics of lake scenery. The Mont d'Or rules
over it as Skiddaw over Derwentwater or Ben Cruachan over
Loch Awe, besides which the whole of the right bank is grandly
precipitous and richly wooded, whilst the shore is as green as
that of Windermere with weeping willows drooping their branches
over the water.

As there happened to be a light breeze M. Vibert invited us
to sail on this basin in his yacht, Petite Amie. She is the fastest
boat of her class on the river, and as she stands for the best
French building for river work, I was glad to have an oppor-
tunity of steering her. I found her easy to handle against the

1 It may seem contradictory to call the Arar sometimes heavy and sometimes light.
She is light tor sailing, heavy for a rowing boat.

A Summer Voyage.

527

wind and very quick in stays, but so sensitive to the helm as to
require incessant attention, in consequence of which these boats
are not so easily managed when the wind is strong and fair.

r \1»

1 s

R"'-i •? \" v£,;.-.'Aa---' 5 . ,. -■ •— *
Mis

Petite Aniie in a Gust.

The clever Parisian builders, who work chiefly for the Seine,
attach the greatest importance to rapidity of evolution which is
of less consequence in more open waters. I should have liked to
try the Arar in company with this boat, but her comparative

328

The Sao ii.

slowness in stays would only have put us out of temper. The
next day I invited the owner of Petite Amie and a friend of his *
to sail on the Arar as they seemed curious to try her. We were
six on board, counting two little boys who were certainly the
ornaments of the boat. The boys were stowed away safely in
the small fore-deck on rugs, very happy to be in this strange
new kind of vessel. We had first to go to windward up the river
and then return with a fair wind. Our guests took a keen scien-
tific interest in the catamaran, and seemed to find her both

■

it— ■■muml flfl ff> IffMMIHf

- -

hi the Basin
above Neuvillc.

handier and faster than they had imagined. I believe they had
inwardly suspected that we should be obliged to use the oar in
coming about.

Catamaran sailing gives quite a peculiar sensation, which for
our guests had the charm of novelty. The wonder is to see a
boat getting up her speed without heeling, in fact, you may sail
through a gust of wind without spilling a drop from a wine-
glass, I mean on protected water. On a catamaran, too, your
relations with the water, though not dangerous, are very close
and intimate. You see the emerald stream rushing faster than
1 M. L'Eplattenier, also a member of the Neuville Yacht Club.

A Summer Voyage.

329

the Rhone under the suspended deck which is only a light
bridge, and even small waves may splash harmlessly over the
hulls. " I feel," said M. Vibert, " as if I were sailing on a plank."

Immediately after this trial of the Avar we bade adieu to
Neuville. How marvellously the significance of a name changes
with changed experience ! " Neuville " once meant for me
simply the least beautiful town upon the Saone with an ugly
church, a long promenade, and a shot tower ; to-day it means
the place where the flower of French amiability grows fairest.

A good breeze soon took us past the islands of Albigny and
down to the lock at Couzon, the last lock in the voyage.

j3.,^.-_

Cliff of Quarry at Couzon.

The situation of Couzon is in the highest degree picturesque,
indeed for valley scenery it is the finest site on the river.
Couzon is on the right bank of the Saone, in a space of flat or
gently rising ground bounded on all sides except the river by
fine steep hills with much grandeur and variety of form. To
the north, the hill has been extensively quarried for building
Lyons, the result being a great precipice. To the south the
hills are green and wooded, to the west wilder. 1

1 The southern hills include the Mont Ceindre, and the western the Mont d'Oi

330 The Sadne.

The near neighbourhood of such an important quarry has had
its effect on the village itself which is entirely of stone, and for
the most part roughly built in the southern fashion that does not
wait for age to be picturesque. The Byzantine church, which is
new ami very effective in the distance, has nothing glaring about
it externally, being built of a stone almost the colour of yellow
ochre. Internally, it is decorated throughout with gold, colour,
and stained glass. Stephen protested against the glare of colour,
but this may be endured if it is consistently and thoroughly carried

,\ L^

I ' : i r :

'J.-' WiiiiV"

i' 'J :

Couzon Church and Hills.

out. It is better than the common mistake of leaving a church
quite bare in one part and richly decorated in another, making
the decoration seem overdone and the nudity chilly and miser-
able. .It is strange to find such a church as this in a country
village ; its place would be in the heart of Lyons.

Close to the shore at Couzon we found the finest willow we
had ever seen, a tree as tall and strong as a well-grown elm, a
most graceful tree with its delicate foliage.

Works were being carried forward on the opposite side of the

A Summer Voyage. . 331

river to fill up a " losne " or false bed covered only in floods.
The treatment of rivers by engineers leaves these false beds
generally dry but barren. In a natural state they often remain
stagnant marshy ponds. Opposite Couzon a large stone dyke
separates the false bed from the present river, but to the east of
this is a wide stony desert at a low level. Beyond it rises a
steep hill with the village of Rochetaillee and the remains of its
castle. This village has some importance in the arts as the
place first chosen by M. Guimet of Lyons for the manufacture
of French ultramarine.

After the lock at Couzon the character of the Saone is com-
pletely changed. It is no longer the river of great spaces and
great distances, no longer the best river for sailing in the world.
It has suddenly been transformed into a curving narrow river of
short reaches, shaded on both sides by richly wooded hills. To
the right is the range that includes the Mont Ceindre and the
Mont d'Or, to the left a wooded steep that rises to about eight
hundred feet.

This part of our voyage was of a very peculiar interest.
Inclosed, as we were, by the hills, it seemed useless to think of sail-
ing, yet there was just air enough to keep the sails out like wings,
and with the help of the current we maintained an unfailing
motion. The daylight now deserted us ; the moon had not
risen, and we dined in complete tranquillity, broken only by the
sound of invisible carriages on the road close to the water,
suggesting the neighbourhood of a great city. In this way we
passed through a long narrow channel where are two thickly
wooded islands, the faint breeze being just strong enough to
make steering possible.

This being a part of the river that we had not before visited

332 The Saone.

with our boat, it was rather disquieting to explore it in total
darkness. At such times Stephen takes the tiller-ropes and I
stand in front of the foremast trying to see in the dark with a
binocular. We passed under a bridge and near a dredger, then
we suddenly found ourselves close to some intricate scaffolding
rising out of the water, and veered to the right just in time to
avoid being entangled amongst it. 1 Having escaped this danger
by a few inches I concluded that it might be wiser to land and
wait till the moon looked over the brow of the hill, so we beached
the Avar on the right bank.

For some time previously we had heard a French horn ad-
vancing toward us. On landing I walked along the shore and
met the performer. His instrument was slung over his shoulder
and he had replaced it at his lips by a tall-bowled German pipe.
He was young, and had a pale, melancholy countenance, which,
with the doleful music, led me to conclude that he had the mis-
fortune to be in love. I asked if he knew the river down to the
lie Barbe. Yes, he knew it, but he gave a pessimist account.
It was full of rocks, the navigation was difficult, we had better
not attempt it with the sails. Under these circumstances of
quite imaginary peril we turned to literature with a lantern as a
resource against the tedium of waiting for the moon. In half an
hour she rose above the brow of the dark wooded hill and began
to silver the water. Stephen said, " Who could believe that we
were on a river and near a populous city ? Surely this is a little
woodland lake in some unfrequented country." I answered
that, for the moment, it was exactly like one of the quiet
wooded inlets on Loch Awe.

1 I learned afterwards that these were preparations for building a new bridge. Such
a scaffolding is a nice thing to run your bowsprit into on a dark night.

A Summer Voyage.

333

Having now light enough to continue our voyage we rowed
with needless prudence till we came to the rocky end of the tie
Barbe. All we saw of the famous island by moonlight was a
rocky shore, one or two dimly defined towers, and a great obscure
mass of dense, dark, and apparently impenetrable foliage. We

Tie Barbe, North End.

entered the western channel according to sailing directions given
to us at Neuville. Here I landed and went to seek for the
restaurant Des Tonnes which had been recommended to us.
The polite restaurateur put a lantern on his private landing
place. Guided by this beacon, the Avar accomplished the two
last furlongs of her voyage.

?34 The Saone.

LETTER LV.

ST. Rambert, September 191/1.

When you want to have a thing done, some competent person
ought always to present himself and beg to be permitted to do it
for nothing. Acting on this excellent principle, a very skilful
amateur photographer came and requested permission to take a
portrait of the Avar. It had been my intention to do this
honour to our ship, and lo ! it is done without cost.

The photographer took his station first on the tie Barbe, the
Arar being at anchor with all sails set, and he afterwards, from
St. Rambert, made an instantaneous picture of the boat in
motion. The breeze was moderate and the channel narrow, but
we sailed in circles before the photographer till he had taken his
bearings. 1 At last, on passing before him, we heard the rapid
opening and shutting of the apparatus, the time of exposure
being the eightieth part of a second.

As we were preparing to be photographed a racing skiff passed
us, and the occupant rested on his sculls to examine our vessel,
after which a single powerful stroke carried him away. I observed
his long brawny brown arms, and then it occurred to me that he
was not of common mortal stature. The Arar had been

1 The ordnance map gives the width of the channel here as about eighty yards. An
eyewitness on the shore said that we had not occupied more than half this width in
describing our circles. This is good evidence that a catamaran may be handy enough
for river work, and it would be easy to build a catamaran much superior to the Arar
in facility of evolution if the designer's study and attention were specially directed to
that quality.

A Summer Voyage. 335

inspected by the gigantic Champion of France. Here, too, was
a piece of good fortune, as we had particularly desired to meet
with this very remarkable Frenchman on his own river.

He is about seven feet high and has all his life been fond of
manly exercises. Rowing is but one of his accomplishments.
He has had a bicycle specially built for him which looks as if
intended for a superhuman cyclist. He is also fond of sailing,
and of nautical travel as well as racing. The current anecdotes
of his prowess are very numerous, and are likely to be preserved
for generations in popular tradition like the legends about the
heroes of antiquity. 1

This place seems to be remarkable for one quality. I have
only to wish for a person and here he is ! First, it was the
photographer, then the champion, afterwards I expressed a
desire to know the address of some clever mechanic. " Res-
taurant des Tonnes "' was the answer, where we are staying.
The mechanic is a brother of our host's, and he has a workshop
at the top of the house with a lathe and other delightful things.
He did some good work for the Avar, and being a practical
electrician expressed the opinion that she might readily be
converted into an electric vessel. " What ! " you will exclaim,
" can a lover of sailing be hankering after a prosaic machine ? "
Dull calms have rather calmed our enthusiasm for white canvas.

We are lodged in a very peculiar sort of place that can only
be made intelligible by a description. It is neither inn nor
hotel, but a restaurant in front with a cafe behind it, and behind

1 M. Bidault did not succeed in retaining the championship to the end of the year
1 886, being defeated in the annual sculling contest on the Seine, but considering his
various kinds of activity and his gigantic frame it is likely that on the whole he is
physically the first of Frenchmen.

336 The Sao lie.

the cafe arc a few rooms occasionally let to visitors, the
restaurant is a summer-house open in front with a view of the
lie Barbe, but our rooms look on a quiet street in the village.
Without having hoped for such a luxury, I am in possession of
a private study, furnished simply with a quiet artistic taste, and
there are some interesting old engravings on the walls. In
Stephen's room there is a painting of the Muse seated on clouds,
a ray of light issuing from her forehead, and her left hand
reposing on an open book with the legend " non nisi grandia
canto" I regret to say that Stephen is able to read Pickwick
in this imposing presence, instead of Paradise Lost.

I have discovered who has given that artistic touch which
pleased me in this house. It is the mechanic. He showed me
a reduced cast of the frieze of the Parthenon, and a marvellous
copy in pen and ink of an etching by Boissieu, a deceptive piece
of imitation, but a waste of talent and time.

LETTER LVI.

St. Rambert,
September igt/i, Evening.

The He Barbe is six hundred yards long with a width of about
a hundred and forty. The southern end is arranged as a public
promenade easily accessible from both banks of the Saone by a
suspension bridge. The buildings begin about the middle of the
island and continue to the northern extremity, where there is a
barrack occupied by one or two companies of soldiers. The
southern part of the island has no character except that given
by its fine trees ; the northern extremity is rocky and rises to a

to
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ssar

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j f 1! tj — -

■'■■,*

■■'yj' i

"'/ ■■■ ; i

-49

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?«*■:

3»t

A Summer Voyage. 337

certain height which gives a fine position for the buildings
upon it. On the eastern side is a Romanesque church tower in
excellent preservation.

Stephen and I took a small rowing-boat and circumnavigated
the island at our leisure whilst I sketched it from different points.
It is certainly one of the most beautiful islands in Europe. From
the north, the combination of rock and foliage with picturesque
buildings is delightful, reminding one of the most perfect lake
islands. I remember seeing it on a former voyage under an
effect of warm, hazy afternoon sunshine so perfectly adapted to
its character that it was impossible to believe it real. It seemed
to be a painter's invention.

During our present visit we have seen this island under beautiful
aspects also. There are three or four important views of it, from
the two banks of the Saone, above and below, and also from the
water. It has hitherto not been spoiled * but it had a narrow
escape when the Government intended to build a fort on the
north end, a project which, I believe, is now happily abandoned.
There is nothing offensive in the present buildings which are
picturesque and crown the natural forms of the island satisfac-
torily. By good luck, even their colour is mellow and agreeable.
The strong northern end is still called the " CJiastelard" cas-
tellum arduum, Castle Difficult. The name " lie Barbe " is said
to be corruptly derived from Insula Barbara, Wilderness Island,
which was given before the monks built upon it.

The ecclesiastical establishments on this island are of great
antiquity, but as it is not my business to write history in these
letters I need not trace them from the fifth century downwards.

1 The promenade and suspension bridge have done less to spoil the island than
might have been expected, as they are at the less interesting extremity.

338 TJie Sad ne.

The one astonishing fact is that in the twelfth century, when the
tie Barbe was at the height of its power, the superior of the
monastery there had a hundred and thirty-seven ecclesiastical
establishments under him, and was himself a mighty feudal lord,
treating with Savoy and France on the footing of an indepen-
dent sovereign. The monastery itself was like a town, fortified
and defended by its Chastelard, and full of accumulated riches.
The Chastelard itself contained the library given by Charle-
magne, the treasury of the Abbey, and one relic of surpassing
heroic and poetic interest — the banner of Roland the brave, the
paladin who fell at Roncevaux.

The monks of the fie Barbe deserve to be remembered for ever
as examples of almost superhuman candour. First they became
immensely rich and powerful, then their wealth made them self-
indulgent, the severity of their rule was relaxed, and their
idleness led to vice, so at last they themselves petitioned to the
King to be disestablished. " We are so bad," they honestly said,
" so sunk in turpitude and vice, so delivered over to iniquity, that
we might be able to work out our salvation better if our monastery
were dissolved, and if we abandoned our monkish dress, asso-
ciated as it is with such a vile, licentious life." The King referred
their petition to the Pope, Paul III., who admitted the validity
of the reason assigned, and disestablished the monastery in 1549.
The monks have left a reputation for many vices and one virtue.
At least they told the truth.

In the present condition of the island we have to regret the
disappearance of the monastery. A fragment of the monastic
church is partially preserved. We visited the interior. All that
remains of any value is a few rich romanesque capitals.

The north end of the island belongs to the State for military

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A Summer Voyage. 339

purposes, having been purchased for the intended fortress. A
rocky and steep road leads past the barrack down to the water's
edge on the west side, and we followed along the rocky shore till
stopped by natural obstacles. The bank is here supported on
strong arches.

The middle part of the island is owned entirely by private
proprietors, who have houses upon it, not of a very dignified
style of architecture, but picturesque and half concealed in
beautiful foliage.

All the southern third is occupied by the public promenade
with the usual fine trees and benches under them. From this
promenade you have good views of both shores of the Saone.
The eastern is occupied by a line of lofty houses between the
fortress-crowned hill of Caluire and the rocky side of the river,
leaving only space for a road cut in the rock. The western
shore is covered by the village of St. Rambert, built on the side
of a steep hill with its gardens in terraces supported by arched
walls that leave the rock visible. The buildings are pretty and
picturesque, with many turrets, and there are masses of foliage
amongst them as well as beautiful separate trees and long
" tonnelles de verdure," arched corridors of trellis-work entirely
covered with creepers. It is a pretty village, but we feel that it
is suburban, and that it has not the truly rustic character of the
villages on the Upper Saone.

Above and below St. Rambert the ground is almost entirely
occupied by a succession of parks with magnificent foliage and
stately private residences. The one objection to these is their
high walls. Those to the north leave only a narrow path on the
rock between the wall and the river ; to the south there is a
broad public road that follows the river to Lyons. We readily

Z 2

340 The Saone.

understand the charm of this part of the Saone for the rich
Lyonnese. It is delightfully beautiful and most charming to
visit, but for permanent residence I should object to being down
in a dell. I should prefer an open prospect, even with far
inferior beauty.

The air, again,. of the valley at lie Barbe is exactly the air of
Lyons, which is so like that of London with its fog and coal
smoke that with the help of a little imagination we could fancy
ourselves in Kensington Gardens.

LETTER LVII.

Lyons, September 20th.

The natural beauty of the Saone ends now at fie Barbe, though
it is easily seen that the river must have been beautiful down to
the Rhone in Gaulish and Roman times.

There is, however, in the modern city of Lyons an artificial
grandeur that is more impressive than anything in the approaches
to London or Paris. For nearly two miles (to Vaise) the Saone
keeps nearly straight, with but a slight bend to the left, but
after that it takes a sudden turn towards the Rhone, coming to
within six hundred yards of it ; then it runs nearly parallel with
the swift river for two miles and a half, and finally meets it at
La Mulatiere. At the turn after Vaise the Saone is in a deep
gully between the heights of La Croix Rousse and Fourvieres, but
after that the tongue of land between the Sa6ne and the Rhone is
perfectly level, and entirely occupied by the better part of Lyons.
La Croix Rousse reminds one strongly of Edinburgh by the dizzy

A Summer Voyage. 341

height of its houses, and their grim unhomelike appearance. The
opposite height is covered by a new and costly chapel (more
costly than beautiful), whither the votaries go in pilgrimage to
seek the aid of Our Lady of Fourvieres. This part of the river
is remarkable for its tall buildings against the steep rock that
rises immediately behind them ; the grim forts, too, are there
on right and left to command the river and threaten the
turbulent citizens.

The quays of the Saone in its course through Lyons had at
one time the reputation of being the finest in the world, but since
then Paris has exceeded them in extent and the Thames Em-
bankment in architectural beauty. Still, the quays of Lyons are
a magnificent work, not unworthy of the second city in France
and her most navigable river ; and if the Saone has been de-
nuded of her natural beauty during the last league of her
existence, it must be admitted that she ends her course with
all the dignity of human wealth and civilisation.

The old cathedral of Lyons is near the river, on the right
bank, at the foot of the height of Fourvieres. The last of the
great churches on the Saone has a gloomier aspect and sootier
colour than the grand abbatial edifice at Tournus, but the
architecture is richer. The west front, of course, is turned
away from the river towards the steep. It has triple portals, like
those of Amiens on a smaller scale, but all the statues are gone.
The insignificant towers at this end remind one also of the
stunted towers at Amiens, but at Lyons there are two others,
more important, to the east. The apse, towards the Saone, has
x\o pourtour with small chapels like that which gives such charm
to the apse at Tournus. Down to the last century there was an
ecclesiastical peculiarity about this cathedral — the situation of the

342

The Saone.

episcopal throne. It was behind the high altar, and in the middle
of the apse. This came from early Christian times, when the
altar was a table only, without an altar-screen. 1 Though the
apse is without pourtour there are fine fourteenth-century
chapels on the south side of the cathedral. Altogether it is
an ink-resting church, but not grand enough in scale for so
important a city as Lyons.

The smaller church called L'Eglise d'Ainay, two hundred yards
from the bridge of Ainay on the Saone (south of the cathedral),
is an interesting and ancient little church. Viollet le Due men-
tions the apse amongst the remarkable apses of France. There
are some decorative mural paintings by Flandrin in the small
apsidal chapels. 2

After passing under thirteen bridges in the city of Lyons, the
Saone joins the Rhone at La Mulatiere. At the point of junc-
tion, the Saone has but one-third the breadth of the great river,
but higher up they are equal in this respect, the Pont du Palais
de Justice on the Saone being as long as the Pont de 1' Hotel
Dieu on the Rhone. Nevertheless, although the width and
depth of the two rivers may be nearly equal, the swift stream
discharges more than twice as much water as the slow one.
They also differ remarkably in colour. The Saone is emerald
green when clear (its clearness is never more than relative) ; the
Rhone is a blue-green, very like crystals of sulphate of copper.

1 In a modern Roman Catholic church a bishop seated in the apse and looking
westwards would have his face to the back of a stone wall.

3 The reader may possibly not be aware that there is a very curious kind of quasi-
independence in ecclesiastical matters at Lyons. The ritual differs considerably from
the Roman, and is called the Lyonnese ritual habitually. Thus "le rite Romain"
and "le rite Lyonnais" are spoken of just as Englishmen talk of the Roman and
Anglican rituals. A Roman Catholic lady who passed a Sunday at Lyons told me
tha she had been embarrassed by the difference.

A Summer Voyage.

343

The point of junction is not so impressive as a lover of the
two rivers might desire. It is spoiled by the mechanical per-
fection of the engineering works, including the railway bridge.
The distance is more noble. On the side of the Saone you have
the imposing height of Fourvieres, and on that of the Rhone a
view of the broad river up to the first bridge and beyond it the
eastern faubourg of Lyons.

The peculiarity of this confluence is that the minor river im-
mediately loses not only its name, but also its very nature. By
a strange fate, the slowest stream in Europe is wedded to the
most rapid, the most navigable of the great rivers to the least
navigable. No, marriage it is not, but an absorption, a swallow-
ing up by a creature of a different species. Beyond Lyons there
is no Saone. Fhtmen Araris is no more — swift and pitiless
Rliodanns tears his way, solitary, to the sea.

, r** r~» r - «f"* •"> <~*

J.PP &

Confluence of Saone and Rhone.

EPILOGUE.

The southward voyage narrated in the preceding letters ter-
minated at the tie Barbe ; but we brought the Arar back to
Macon, which is her home. We rowed from St. Rambert to
Couzon, then had a wind for five or six miles, and after that
reverted to the old Boiissemrown expedient of putting ourselves
behind a steam-tug. We never had wind enough to get up the
real speed of the A rar, that wild rush through the water which
is the excitement and delight of catamaran sailing.

This persistent lack of wind has been a disappointment, but
our only one. We have passed many delightful hours on a noble
river, and have acquired that detailed knowledge of it which is
the reward not of the rapid but of the patient traveller.

The result, for all of us, was an increase of admiration and
affection for the Saone, of all rivers friendliest to man ; so willing,
as it were, to be tamed for his service that only a little art was
necessary for its perfect conquest.

There is hardly anything deserving to be called sublimity on
the Saone, but there are three distinct orders of beauty, that of
the Upper Saone from Corre to Pontailler, that of the river of
the plains, and lastly the beauty of the rich southern river, which

34^

Epilogue.

Is more and more hemmed in between precipitous banks till it
flows past the fortress-crowned heights of Lyons.

Most of the principal islands have been described in the
narrative of the voyage, but one was omitted because we were
dragged past it quickly behind a steamer. This is the lie Bene,
three miles above Neuvillc. We stayed upon it some hours on
our return. It is remarkable for its beautiful sands, quite
extensive and firm, and also for its picturesque old willows and
a noble view of the Mont d'Or. Whilst we remained there the
hill and the lake-like river showed themselves under precisely

A Jl,

Mont d'Or

from He Bine.

the same changing effects of rain which are familiar to us in the
Highlands of Scotland. 1

We slept at Trevoux, and left that place uncomfortably at five
o'clock on a rainy morning. The tent made us a little saloon,
and we tossed about for eleven hours in the eddies behind a
great barge very deeply laden with copper ore. Any person

1 Heavy showers came to the island itself during our stay, but having the ever-
precious resource of the tent, we erected it on their approach and remained well
sheltered till a return of fine weather. The tent is a good friend in these expeditions.

Epilogue. 347

liable to sea-sickness would have preferred a different means of
travelling, but we were interested in the behaviour of the boat
amidst the swirling eddies, and concluded that she might be
safely taken over the numerous cross currents and whirlpools of
the Rhone.

We arrived at Macon on the 23rd of September at four in the
afternoon, when the Avar was delivered into the hands of Batafi
to be taken to pieces for the winter. The next day, from the
deck of the passenger-steamer, we saw our own ship still quietly
at anchor, unconscious of the temporary dissolution that awaited
her, and we bade adieu to her with a regret all the more poignant
that there was a glorious wind that day, precisely because we
did not want it any longer.

1 I made an experiment that is worth recording. On drawing the Arar close to
the barge I found the motion less fatiguing, but the curious thing was this : the Arar
n<nv followed -without a hawser. There was, in fact, no necessity whatever for a rope,
as our boat was propelled by the back-water behind the barge. The Arar kept the
noses of her two hulls at a distance of about three inches from the stern of the boat
before her, and that with marvellous steadiness. For some time the two hawsers
hung idly in festoons, but they were entirely detached before we came to the bridge
at Macon, yet the Arar followed under the arch against the general current of the
river, though, in reality, on the rapid counter-current of the back-water. How can a
steamer tug a small boat without either increase of power expended or diminution of
speed ? The question appears insoluble, yet here is a solution of it : the steamer's
motion may create a back-water behind a flat-stemed barge that she is towing, and the
small boat may follow on the back-water without imposing the slightest extra tax upon
the tug.

APPENDICES.

THE SAONE ABOVE CORRE.

I SHOULD have liked to follow the Saone from the' source, on
foot, of course, at first, and afterwards in a canoe to Corre, but
the length of time occupied in the voyage of the Boussemroum
compelled me to confine my exploration to the navigable part of
the river. I have, however, for the sake of completeness, given
the whole river in the maps, and a little information may be
added here with regard to its character above the confluence
with the Coney. The source is at Viomenil, in the department
of the Vosges, a village of rather more than 500 inhabitants.
Thence the Saone flows in a westerly direction to the village of
Bonvillet, which is rather smaller than Viomenil, and here the
river turns suddenly southwards. It soon passes Darney, a
place of some relative importance (1600 inhabitants), with some
remains of Roman and mediaeval times. The next place is
Monthureux-sur-Saone (1500 inhabitants), where there are the
remains of a castle erected by Henri II. At Chatillon-sur-
Saone (500 inhabitants) there are the remains of a Roman wall.
The river now flows in a south-easterly direction towards Corre,
passing by Jonvelle and Bourbevelle. Jonvelle is an ancient
lordship of great historical interest. The history of it has been
written by the Abbe Coudriet and the Abbe Chatelet in a
volume of nearly six hundred pages. The Saone flows past
Jonvelle in a curve, defending the place on two sides, and on the
third It was strongly fortified. The fortifications have for the

350 Appefidices.

most part disappeared, though there are traces of them, useless
to the artist but interesting to the archaeologist. The following
extract from the preface to the " History of Jonvelle," will give
an idea of its past importance and of its present insignificance :

"The place was defended against external violence by the
deep bed of the Saone and by a belt of good walls. A citadel
and some detached forts protected the north side which was not
covered by the river. Placed as an advanced sentinel on the
frontiers of France and Lorraine, this fortress commanded the
great roads from the Franche-Comte to Lorraine and Cham-
pagne. It was the key of the country on this point, and con-
sequently one of the places most exposed to the attacks of the
enemy and most burdened with the duties of national defence.
It was a post of honour and danger. Twenty times in each
century hostile armies presented themselves vainly before its
ramparts. At last, after having long been the terror of the
enemy, Jonvelle fell in 1641, given up to a French army by its
cowardly Governor. The town was burnt, its walls, its forts, and
its castle rased to the ground, and at the present day Jonvelle is
nothing more than a commonplace village, where our curiosity,
strongly excited by historical records, seeks in vain for some
remains of a vanished strength and splendour. Etiam periere
ruincB."

So far as I have been able to ascertain, the scenery
between Yiomenil and Corre is likely to be pretty and in-
teresting, but not grand. The river winds between hills of
moderate elevation and passes many woods. Its course from
Viomenil to Bonvillet lies through a valley in the Forest of
Darney, and probably offers nothing but close woodland views
with a little stream running under the branches. After Darney
the scenery is more open, but the reaches of the river are still
short.

Appendices. 351

ROMAN REMAINS AT CORRE.

REMAINS of altars and fragments of architecture have been
found abundantly in the plain called le Parge, situated between
the present village and the confluence of the Saone and the
Cone)'. Many rude Roman monuments have been taken from
the antique cemetery. Several statues have been found at Corre,
amongst them a fine colossal statue of Venus in white marble.
This was in good preservation, but it was broken up from an
objection to its nudity, and the abdomen was converted into
the basin for holy water now at the entrance of the church, a
strange vicissitude in the history of a piece of marble. It is to
be regretted that this statue was not sent at once to Besan^on,
where many less valuable antiquities from Corre are preserved
in the public museum.

352 Appendices.

THE DEFENCE OF ST. JEAN DE LOSNE.

THIS important incident in the history of the river Saone
deserves more than the passing allusion in the text. The
following account of it is abridged from the Lyon Republicain of
October 24, 1SS6, where it was published with reference to the
then intended festival.

" In 1636, at the beginning of the French period of the Thirty
Years' War, the town of St. Jean de Losne was on the frontier
(as Franche-Comte then belonged to the Empire), and it was
considered to be the key of Burgundy. In the month of
October of that year an army of eighty thousand men, com-
posed of soldiers belonging to the Empire, with Hungarians,
Croatians, and Spaniards, invaded Burgundy under the com-
mand of the celebrated General Gallas along 'with Edward of
Braganza, the Marquis of Grana, the Duke of Lorraine, and
others."

" Before Gallas attacked Dijon he was anxious to protect his
rear by establishing himself at St. Jean de Losne, which he
believed to be incapable of resistance. He came on October
25 to invest the little town, which had no defenders but four
hundred citizens able to bear arms, and a hundred and fifty
soldiers under the orders of the brave Rochefort d'Ailly de
Saint Point, who was unfortunately smitten with the plague two
nights before the blockade. There were eight guns on the
ramparts."

" On October 26 the enemy summoned the town to surrender.
The brave defenders knew the strategic importance of their
town, and boldly replied that the enemy would never enter the
place so long as they were alive to defend it. Gallas was
irritated by this answer, and gave orders to begin the siege."

Appendices. 353

" This siege was endured with an ardour and an intrepidity
that never languished for a moment. Women and young girls
went upon the walls and encouraged their husbands and brothers,
taking their place when they fell. On October 30 the defenders
took a flag from the enemy which confirmed their resolution."

" Meanwhile Gallas, astonished that so weak a place should
resist him, renewed his attacks on October 3 1 and November 1 .
His artillery made a breach thirty feet long. The first assault
was made on November 1 , and repelled with great energy. On
November 2, the enemy, before making a last and supreme
effort, summoned the defenders of the place to yield, telling
them that a longer resistance could add nothing to their honour,
and that they should have whatever terms they desired."

" It was then that occurred an act of self-devotion worthy of
the heroes of Leonidas and the sublime defenders of Numantia.
Being called together by the two e'chevins, Pierre Desgranges
and Pierre Lapre, some brave citizens, amongst whom was
Claude Martene, who had paid the soldiers with his own money,
met in the guard-chamber of the Saone gate on the place now
called ' La Place de la Deliberation,' and there by common
agreement composed and signed without delay that immortal
deliberation in which they declared that they would all
courageously expose their lives to the efforts of the enemy, and
even were resolved, in case of overpowering force, to set fire each
of them to his own house and to the ammunition in the town-
hall, so that the enemy might reap no advantage, and, after that,
to die all of them sword in hand, and at the last extremity, where
they had any means of retreat, to retire by the Saone bridge and
destroy one of its arches behind them."

The original words are worth preserving. The inhabitants
declare that they

" Mesme sont re'solus, au cas que par mallieur ilz vinssent a estre
forcez, de mettre le feu cliacun en leurs maisons et aux poudres et
munitions de guerre estant en la maison de ville affin que les
ennemis nen recoipvent aidcun avantage, et ensuitte de ce, inourir
tous tespee a la main, et a toute extrfaiiitez on ilz auraient moyen

A A

354 Appendices.

de retraicte de la f aire par le pout de soone et brnsler en sortant un
a) cade d'iceluy."

" This decision was then presented to the defenders of the
Tour Truchot and of the breach, who signed it. The houses
were then filled with inflammable materials, and it was decided
that if the enemy succeeded in entering by the breach all the
streets of the town should burn at the same time. All the
defenders met at the breach ; the brave Saint Point had himself
carried thither, almost dying, to encourage the soldiers, and soon
the attack began, impetuous, terrible. At one moment the shock
was so violent that the breach appeared to be carried, and the
watchman was on the point of giving the alarm signal ; but at
the height of the struggle twelve valiant men from Auxonne
entered by the Saone gate, and going at once to the breach,
encouraged the defenders by announcing the arrival of reinforce-
ments. They took their share of the fight, and one of them,
named Boillaud, was killed."

" The sublime sacrifice of the townsmen was not to be con-
summated. The Imperialists, having lost Soo men, suspended
their attack. During the night the brave Rantzau entered the
town, and the enemy alarmed by the noise of his cavalry, began
to retreat. The next morning the defenders of the valiant town
joyfully saw Gallas in retreat."

Surely this is as fine an example of courage in a little town as
any in history, and it is well that amidst the petty political
disputes of the day, St. Jean de Losne should keep in mind the
noblest page in all its annals. 1

The name of the Imperialist General is written in three ways, Galas, Gallas, and
Gallass. He himself used the last form in his signature.

Appendices. « 355

GERGY.

At the time when we passed the village of Gergy, one of its
inhabitants, Count de Chardonnet, was engaged in some interest-
ing experiments for the production of artificial silk. By some
chemical process, which is his secret, he dissolves fibrous materials
(rags, paper, sawdust) so as to produce a viscous solution that he
forces into a tube by hydraulic pressure, out of which it issues by
minute orifices in threads like a spider's web, which are wound
off rapidly on a reel. The material so obtained is indistinguish-
able from the silk of the worm. It is as glossy and as strong,
and can be woven like the usual fabrics and made into velvet.
It has not yet been produced on any but an experimental scale,
as the patents are not all taken out yet (July 1887), but unless
some unforeseen difficulty should prevent its commercial use, we
have here a discovery rivalling in importance the artificial ultra-
marine of Guimet, also first produced on the banks of the Saone.

I may add that the three earliest of the silk-making machines
have been constructed by M. Brunet-Meige, of Chalon, who
built the hulls of the Arar. The silk from them that I have
examined was made from some old newspapers. It deceived a
manufacturer at Lyons who, after weaving some of it, believed it
to be real silk dyed by a new and excellent process. In fact, the
artificial silk is dyed in the solution before being drawn out into
filaments. Sixty or seventy filaments can be drawn from the
tube and wound off upon the reel at the same time. When the
solution has not been dyed the silk resembles that of a worm in
colour.

356 Appendices.

M. CHABAS, THE EGYPTOLOGIST.

I KNEW the late M. Chabas personally, and he was an intimate
friend of my brother-in-law. 1 He was good enough to place his
valuable library entirely at my disposal, but my lines of study
had nothing to do with Egypt, so I made little or no use of it.
M. Chabas himself was more interesting to me than his collec-
tions. He was a most genuine student, as is well known to
those who arc competent to appreciate his labours. In some
respects he worked under a disadvantage, living in a provincial
town like Chalon and in absolute isolation, so far as his special
pursuit was concerned. He had a private fortune, but it was
not large enough to enable him both to travel and collect, so he
preferred collecting as the best way of getting materials for his
studies. But this laid him open to the depreciation of the
ignorant, who could not understand how a man could live at
Chalon and study ancient Egypt. The truth was that photo-
graphy, and the labours of draughtsmen and other students in
Egyptj brought abundant materials to M. Chabas, and the
extreme acuteness of his intellect enabled him to make the most
of them. Besides that, he had a fire of enthusiasm which never
failed. It is probable, however, that the closeness of his applica-
tion shortened his life. The last time I met him was at the
house of M. Jules Chevrier, a well-known antiquary and skilful
amateur artist, and the conversation turned on the question
whether the power of intellectual acquisition was limited by the
nature of our faculties or only by want of time. I maintained
that our faculties themselves were very limited, and that our
receptive capacity was, at the best, but small, so that it was wise
to learn only those things that were most useful to us. M.

M. Charles Gindriez, who kindly aided me in the arrangements for the voyage
with the Boussemroum,

Appen dices. 357

Chabas strongly supported me, saying that he himself had found
by experience that his brain could only receive a limited quantity
of knowledge, having tried its capacity to the utmost Some
time after that he was speaking in public, and suddenly found
himself unable to proceed, after which the worst- symptoms of
cerebral exhaustion supervened, unhappily with a fatal termina-
tion. He was a most kind and amiable man, and remained to
the last entirely modest, notwithstanding the extent of his
learning.

I have mentioned M. Jules Chevrier. He was a well-informed
archaeologist and an artist of by no means despicable ability.
His volume of illustrations of Chalon-sur-Saone, in etching and
aquatint, will remain as a record of old Chalon. My pen sketch
of the Rue St. Vincent is from a clever aquatint by M. Chevrier,
and the sketch of the Bridge in the year 1600 is from an etching
that he had made on the authority of an old picture. He had
considerable skill as a painter.

358 Appendices.

CORRESPONDENCE WITH THE FRENCH
AUTHORITIES.

THE following notes of my correspondence with the French
authorities may be of interest to artists and amateurs who desire
to sketch in France.

At the time of our detention at Pontailler, the Prefect of the
Lower Alps, M. Gilliot, telegraphed at my request to the
Minister of War. General Boulanger replied at once by telegram
authorising M. Gilliot to take such measures as he thought fit.
I have not seen the telegram, but I know its purport through a
French officer of rank who kindly took the trouble to call at the
War Office.

The measure that M. Gilliot intended to take was to write on
my behalf to the Prefect of the department where the arrest
took place. Unfortunately his letter, which inclosed the
Minister's telegram, was addressed by his secretary to the
Prefect of the Doubs instead of the Prefect of the Cote d'Or.
The recipient caused a minute search for the three travellers to
be made in all the prisons of his department whilst we were in
our floating home upon the Saone. The strangest circumstance
about this mistake is that two telegrams were at the same time
correctly addressed to me at Pontailler, Cote d'Or, from the Pre-
fecture of the Lower Alps.

The mistake arose from a confusion between Pontailler which
is in the Cote d'Or, and Pontarlier which is in the Doubs.
The Temps committed it shortly afterwards in an article headed
in capital letters " M. Ph. Hamerton et les Gendarmes de Pont-
arlier!' And yet the contributor wrote with my letter to the
Pall Mall Gazette before him, in which Pontailler was correctly
printed.

I then asked M. Gilliot to give me some written document

Appe>idiccs. 359

that might be shown to a gendarme, stating that I had been
protected by the Minister of War, but the Prefect of- the Lower
Alps felt some delicacy, with regard to other Prefects, his
colleagues, in giving me anything that might seem like an
authorisation to travel and work in departments other than his
own. He therefore recommended me to apply to the Prefects
of those departments which are traversed by the Saone.

I began by applying to the Prefect of Saone-et-Loire, as the
Saone runs more than seventy miles in that department. This
Prefect, M. Le Mailler, had from the first acted kindly on my
behalf. He had written to the Prefect of the Cote d'Or asking
him to protect me. This would have been of the greatest service
to me if any intercession with General Tricoche had been
necessary. That General, however, facilitated our work instead
of hindering it.

My request to the Prefect of Saone-et-Loire was confined to a
single point. I asked for permission to sketch upon that part of
the Saone which traverses or touches the department of Saone-
et-Loire. Such a request seemed the more admissible that there
are no fortifications on that part of the river. The Prefect's
answer, though very courteous, said that it was impossible for
him to grant permission to draw freely, and that he did not
think I should succeed in obtaining such a permission from the
Minister of War. There was, however, a kind of hint in this
Prefect's letter that was evidently intended to be of use. He
did not by any means forbid me to make sketches, but he re-
commended me, during my artistic excursions, to provide myself
with papers giving evidence of my identity. This was as much
as to say that, on showing who I was, I should not be disquieted
in the department of Saone-et-Loire.

I now decided to make another application at the War Office,
not to the Minister himself, but to his Chef de Cabinet. I had
no new favour to request, and begged for nothing more than a
short note admitting me to be right in the belief that the
Minister's protection had been accorded to me — a note that I
could show to a gendarme. Colonel Jung, the Chef de Cabinet,

360 Appendices.

replied with the very greatest courtesy and at some length.
The gist of his letter was that the Prefect of the Lower Alps
was now alone authorised to protect me, either by giving me the
Minister's communication, if he thought fit to do so, or by
immending me to other Prefects.

I then wrote once more to the Prefect of the Lower Alps, but
he did not remember the terms of the Minister's despatch.

There are no functionaries in France more observant of
etiquette amongst themselves than the Prefects. They are care-
ful to avoid, not only the reality, but the slightest appearance, of
intrusion on each other's territories. There is, consequently, a
peculiar difficulty in obtaining anything from a Prefect that is
likely to have an effect outside of his own borders.

The Minister of the Interior is in a different situation. The
limits of his prefecture are the frontiers of France. I therefore
found means, through a friend, of applying to M. Sarrien, the
Minister of the Interior. My case did not go through the usual
channel of the bureaux, but was stated clearly to the Minister
himself in a conversation. His reply was that he could not
grant the desired permission to draw, that it was not within his
competence, but he added that if I carried a passport no one
could say anything to me. As this opinion was given in writing,
not by the Minister, but by his acquaintance, who himself occupies
an official position, and as it was written, by good luck, on official
paper, I thought it might be valuable, and kept the letter. Still,
I confess that I have not found in the law of the 18th of April,
1 886, any article to the effect that the possession of a passport
implies the right to draw.

Mr. Egerton, the British Charge d 'Affaires, gave me the
Ambassador's passport and his own personal recommendation,
written in his autograph and in the French language. He also
kindly promised to communicate with the French authorities in
Paris. This promise was fulfilled, with the result that the Prefect
of Saone-et-Loire (evidently in consequence of a communication
from the Ministry of the Interior) caused a French passport-
certificate to be prepared for me, available for all France. Even

Appendices. 361

this passport, however, though it contains a strong personal
recommendation, makes no mention of drawing.

The conclusion I naturally arrived at after these varied ex-
periences was that it was useless to ask any one in authority for
permission to draw, as that would never be granted. The
authorities would tolerate drawing in my own case — wink at it,
as we say in English — but no amount of diplomacy could ever
induce them to authorise it.

By never granting a written permission to draw, the French
Government retains its hold on German spies, who might present
themselves as artists. It also avoids the troublesome and in-
vidious task of making a selection.

English artists may work in France if they are provided with
a Foreign Office passport having a French visa. A good visa
to procure is that of the Prefecture of the department in which
the artist desires to work : if that is too remote, the visa of a
sous-Prefecture or even a Mairie might answer the purpose ; but
local authorities are only respected in their own localities, as Mr.
Pennell found when the recommendations of the Mayor and sub-
Prefect of Chalon were treated as valueless at Lyons. An artist
must, however, in all cases make up his mind to be interrogated,
and perhaps occasionally arrested and detained for a short time.
He should remember, also, that, at the best, he can only draw
on sufferance, seeing that a formal licence to draw is never
granted.

»62 Appendices.

BOAT TRAVELLING ON RIVERS.

THE results of this expedition on the Saone may be given in
a few words, for those readers who take a practical interest in
the art of independent travel.

Let me define, first, what I mean by independent travel. I
mean that which allows the traveller to stop wherever he pleases,
in day-time or night-time, to observe, to sketch, or to rest. All
modes of locomotion that drag the traveller past places where he
would like to stay, were it but for a few minutes, are, in my
opinion, only varieties of what the French call assujettissement.

A house-boat realises this condition admirably. It is most
convenient as a solution of the problem how to devise a lodging
that shall be spacious and yet movable. Unfortunately, travel-
ling in a house-boat is at the same time the dullest of all the
varieties of navigation, and, in fact, does not deserve to be con-
sidered "boating" at all. There is neither amusement nor
exercise in being dragged over the water in a kind of Noah's
Ark.

I set aside all ballasted sailing-boats without hesitation, I
mean for travelling purposes on rivers. They are charming toys
for little regattas between two bridges ; and that, in fact, is almost
the only use that is ever made of them. In travelling, when you
have a glassy calm for a week together, what can you do with a
floating castle that has a ton or two of lead in its foundations ?
A friend of mine, under such circumstances, leaves his heavy
boat at anchor and goes home by railway. If you cling to your
vessel a steam-tug is the only resource, and that deprives you of

Appendices. 363

all liberty of stoppage. Mr. MacGregor had a yawl constructed
for travelling, the Rob Roy. At first she carried thirty hundred-
weight of ballast, afterwards reduced. One man was to row
this, in calms, and there were oars for the" purpose. What could
the owner do with his ballasted vessel on the Seine ? He
ascended behind a tug, all the way from Havre to Paris,
a distance of three hundred miles. The return voyage was
begun under sail, but before reaching Poissy sailine" was
abandoned and the tug was resorted to again. The oars do not
appear to have been used. I need scarcely observe that a house-
boat would have been quite as amusing and incomparably more
comfortable. The Saone is a better river than the Seine, but a
friend of mine at Chalon who has an excellent little river yacht,
told me that on a voyage to Neuville his speed had averaged little
more than a mile an hour, and he returned behind a steamer.

The open boat for rowing, with auxiliary sails and little
ballast, is a practical thing for river travel, but either the sails
must be small or the boat is dangerous. The light boat for
rowing only is far superior to the ballasted sailing-boat for
average speed on a river, but it affords no lodgings on board and
little room for luggage.

I like a catamaran because it is a safe sailing-boat that bears
a good spread of canvas without an ounce of ballast. A Winder-
mere yacht 1 carries at the utmost one hundred and forty square
feet of canvas per ton of displacement, the Arar carries at the
rate of five hundred and forty feet per ton, which might be safely
increased to eight hundred in all ordinary weather.

Other reasons for liking a catamaran are because it affords
comfortable lodging in a tent on the roomy fiat floor of its deck,
and also because it can be rowed easily (having no drag of
ballast), whilst its great lateral resistance in combinatio.n with a
shallow draught of water makes it incomparably superior to all
other boats for towing. No other boat offers equal lateral re-
sistance with so little depth.

1 The Windermere yacht is selected as a type of boat that carries very large sails.
Small yachts often carry half as much in proportion, or less.

564 Appendices.

Mr. Herreshoff's American catamarans are far superior to
mine in speed, but their weight is a serious objection. A
Herreshoff catamaran weighs four times as much as the Avar,
which I consider too heavy already. An extremely light cata-
maran, that could be easily rowed yet at the same time would
be able to carry about two hundred feet of canvas, seems the
desideratum for river travelling.

I need not enter into minute details which would interest few
readers, but may say that the Avar is twenty-four feet long and
has a beam, over all, of seven feet three inches ; this beam is
much smaller in proportion, than that of the American
catamarans (usually about one-half the length) but it is quite
sufficient for the canvas I desire to carry, as big sails require
proportionate spars, and the narrower beam gives greater rigidity
to the fabric, besides its convenience in passing amongst other
boats, and in locks.

INDEX.

Abelard, 223

Ainay, church of, at Lyons, 342

Albigny Islands, 325

Alleriot, 198

Amance, river, 66

Anse, 3 1 1

Apremont, 135

Arar, the author's sailing-boat, 1, 3,
205
her crew, 206

described, 225, 226, 230, 364
her behaviour when towed, 246
how she is arranged for the night,

265
in a squall, 272

personal freedom on board, 300
towed without a hawser, 347

Arrest, probability of, foreseen, 114
at Pontailler, 142

Athee, 155

Authorities, the French, 203, 358

Auxonne, approach to, 155
fortifications of, 156
historical associations, 157

Azergues, river, 31 1

Bargemen, their civility, 69, 131
Barges, the building of, 219
Batafi, 274, 285
Baulay, 76, 77
Belgian, a, 181
Belleville, port de, 301
Berrichon, a kind of boat, 5

engaged, 7

its instability, 80

the last of the, 200
Beaujeux, 117

Beaujolais, mountains of, 298, 307, 314
Beauregard, 306, 307

Boat-travelling, 362
Bonvillet, 349
Boucicaut, Madame, 198
Bourbevelle, 349
Bonssemroum, the, described, 10

bad for towing when lightly laden,
56

instability of, 80

her behavour between Verdun
and Chalon, 194
Boxes, kind of, preferred for aquatic

travel, 267
" Brick," in French, 33
Bridges, old, their rarity, 81
Burgundy, the plain of, 160
Buzzards, 269

Caluire, fortress of, 339
Canal, the Burgundy, 172

from the Saone to the Meuse, 44

du centre, 9, 202
Canals, beauty of, 91

on the Upper Saone, 35
Catamaran, lateral resistance of, 246

circumstances most unfavourable
to a, 271

sailing, 328

reasons for liking a, 363
Cendrecourt, 64, 67
Chabas, the Egyptologist, 42, 356
Chalon from a distance, 199

its origin, 207

formerly capital of the Burgundian
kingdom, 209

the counts of, 2 1 1

in the sixteenth century, 212

the deanery tower, 214

church of St. Peter, 217

manners of the inhabitants, 224

3 66

Index.

Champion, the, of France, 335

Charnay-les-Chalon. 178

Chastelard, the, on tie Barbe, 337

Chfuelet, Le, 176

Chatillon-sur-Sadne, 349

Chemilly, 85, 86, 88

Chevrier, Jules, 357

( 'layonnages, 238

Clergy at Verdun, 193

Cluny, the abbatial church at, 235, 236

Colonne, La, 239

inn at, 240
Coney, the river, 42
Conrlandey, 77
Conflans, 77

Constantine, the Emperor, 227
Constellations, the, 232
Corre, the canal, 41

the church at, 44

described, 50

Roman remains at, 351
Cote d'Or, the, 160
Coursi, a kind of river-boat, 5
Couzon, 329

Croix Rousse, Lyons, 340
Crusaders on the Saone, 162, 163

Daguerre, 228

Darney, 349

Discipline, 27

Dombes, Les, the Principality of, 316

Doubs, the river, 183

Durgeon, the river, 87

Encampment, on the Arar, 267

Faroes, 263

Filomena, St., an old poem about, 254
Flandrin, mural paintings by, 342
Fleurville, bridge and port, 270
Forest below Apremont, 137
Fouchecourt, 75, 76
Fourvieres, 340, 341, 343
Franki presents himself, 51

his separation from his mother, 54

his berth, 1 13

parties for and against him, 1 13

his imprudence, 158

the close of his engagement, 201

Gallas, General, 169, 352
Garibaldiansat St. Jean de Losne, [70
Gendarmes at Pontailler, 143

at St. Jean de Losne, 165

at Verdun, 190
Gergy, 197, 355
Gipsies at Corre, 45, 46
Gray, 30, 124, 125

approach to, 123
Grosne, the river, 235
Greuze, 258

Herreshoff, his rudders, 262
his catamarans, 364

Ile Barbe described, 336
lie Bene, 346

Jib, on a catamaran, 237
Joiner, at Corre, 45
Joinville, Sire de, 163
Jonvelle, 349, 350
Jussey, 66

KINGDOM, the Burgundian, 209, 210
Kornprobst, Captain, 15,22

his discretion and duties on the
Boussemroum, 29

Lamartine, his statue at Macon, 278
his birthplace at Macon, 279
his gifts, 279, 280

Lanterne, the river, 77

Locks, on the Lower Saone, 322

Lothair, 211

Lux, 227

Lyons; modern city of, 340
cathedral, 341

Macon, 273

Hotel du Sauvage, 274, 275

the Council of, 277

a summer evening at, 278

the bridge, 280

churches at, 282

the Prefecture, 284

under an evening effect, 286
Mailly-le-Port, 162
Mantoche, 131, 132

Index.

367

Marche, La, 155

Marnay, 235

Matelote, 292, 297

Mercey, 1 1 5

Mezerine, river, 304

Mont Blanc, 229, 261, 270

Mont Ceindre, 331

Mont d'Or, 314, 320, 331, 346

Montmerle, 304

Monthureux-sur-Saone, 349

Montureux-les-Baulay, 75

NAPOLEON, his bed and chair at
Macon, 275

after his evasion from Elba, 276
Neuville, its basin for sailing, 326
Niepce, 228

his statue, 229

Ormes, 246

Ormoy, 59

Ognon, confluence with, 139

Otay, 117

Ovanches, 99

" Patron " of the Boussemroum,
18, 21

his personal appearance, 9, 10

a good cook, 18

his one lesson in rowing, 37

and Pilot, their quarrels, 121

the last of him, 202
Parisien, the steamer, 321
Pauchouse, a dish, 185
Paul III., Pope, 338
Phiiche, a kind of boat, 70
Pennell, Mr., 31

his difficulties about

sketching,

200, 201

Petite Amie, a Saone yacht, 324, 326

Pilot, the, of the Boussemroum, 10
he takes the command, 14
his quarrels with Patron, 48
his magnificent energy, 58, 80
his wife on the Rhone, 122

Police of the river, 136

Poncey les Athee, 155

Pontailler, 140

Pope, the, 289, 290

Port d'Arciat, 289
scenery at, 292

Port dOuroux, inn at, 233

view from, 234
Port bur Saone, 79, 81

the church, 82
Prantigny, 1 18
Princes, expulsion of, 152
Probus, the Emperor, 209

Quails, 288
Quays at Lyons, 341
Quitteur, 1 17

Ranzevelle, 58

Ray, 106, 107, 108, 109

Recologne, 114

Rhone and Rhine canal, 162

Rhone, colour of, 342

Richecourt, 61, 62

Rigny, 120

Riottier, 309

Roland, Mount, 153

Roland, his banner, 338

Rupt, 103, 104, 105

Sailing, average speed of, 247, 248
Saone, colour of its banks, 155

the Lower, its character, vii, viii,

159
between Charnay and Verdun, 180

colour of, 342

friendly to man, 345

and Rhone, confluence of, 343

the Upper, vii, 345
Saracens, the, at Uchizy, 264
Savoyeux, canal near, 1 14
Scey, the basin near, 93

the town, 95
Seille, the river, 263
Seurre, 177
Solutre, 287
Spy mania, the, 83
Squall, at Tournus, 260
St. Jean de Losne, 26, 164

church at, 166

defence of, 169, 352
St. John, island of, 273
St. Laurent-les-Macon, 273
St. Marcel, 223
St. Rambert, the author's lodging at.

St.

parks at, 339
Romain, 294

$68

Index.

Tarare, mountains, 314
Thoissey, 294, 295, 296
Tournus, 249

southern character of. 249, 250

the church, 253
Towing, 245
Treroux, 313, 346

the view from the terrace, 314
Trugny canal, incident in, 23
Tugs, their speed, 153

their slowness, 174
Tunnel, effect of, 34

passing through one in bed, 36

below Scey, 97

Uchizv, 264

Vkrdun, 183
Yeijux, 197

Vernet, Horace, 38

Vibert, M., his yacht Petite Amie,

323
Villars, 262

Villefranche, 31 1

Viomcnil, 349

Vitteaut, M., and his yacht Falourde,

Yachts at Neuville, 324

Zipfel, M., his yacht Croquemitaine,

324
Zoulou, the donkey, 1 1

his way of kicking, 55

his difficulties on the river, 80

good on a canal, 134

slow on the Saone, 153

the last sight of, 202

University Press : John Wilson & Son, Cambridge.

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