travels with a donkey in the cevennes-第16部分

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upon　a　swarded　terrace；　I　made　my　morning　toilette　in　the　water　of　

the　Tarn。　　It　was　marvellously　clear；　thrillingly　cool；　the　soap…

suds　disappeared　as　if　by　magic　in　the　swift　current；　and　the　white　

boulders　gave　one　a　model　for　cleanliness。　　To　wash　in　one　of　God's　

rivers　in　the　open　air　seems　to　me　a　sort　of　cheerful　solemnity　or　

semi…pagan　act　of　worship。　　To　dabble　among　dishes　in　a　bedroom　may　

perhaps　make　clean　the　body；　but　the　imagination　takes　no　share　in　

such　a　cleansing。　　I　went　on　with　a　light　and　peaceful　heart；　and　

sang　psalms　to　the　spiritual　ear　as　I　advanced。



Suddenly　up　came　an　old　woman；　who　point…blank　demanded　alms。



'Good；'　thought　I；　'here　comes　the　waiter　with　the　bill。'



And　I　paid　for　my　night's　lodging　on　the　spot。　　Take　it　how　you　

please；　but　this　was　the　first　and　the　last　beggar　that　I　met　with　

during　all　my　tour。



A　step　or　two　farther　I　was　overtaken　by　an　old　man　in　a　brown　

nightcap；　clear…eyed；　weather…beaten；　with　a　faint　excited　smile。　　

A　little　girl　followed　him；　driving　two　sheep　and　a　goat；　but　she　

kept　in　our　wake；　while　the　old　man　walked　beside　me　and　talked　

about　the　morning　and　the　valley。　　It　was　not　much　past　six；　and　

for　healthy　people　who　have　slept　enough；　that　is　an　hour　of　

expansion　and　of　open　and　trustful　talk。



'CONNAISSEZ…VOUS　LE　SEIGNEUR？'　he　said　at　length。



I　asked　him　what　Seigneur　he　meant；　but　he　only　repeated　the　

question　with　more　emphasis　and　a　look　in　his　eyes　denoting　hope　

and　interest。



'Ah；'　said　I；　pointing　upwards；　'I　understand　you　now。　　Yes；　I　know　

Him；　He　is　the　best　of　acquaintances。'



The　old　man　said　he　was　delighted。　　'Hold；'　he　added；　striking　his　

bosom；　'it　makes　me　happy　here。'　　There　were　a　few　who　knew　the　

Lord　in　these　valleys；　he　went　on　to　tell　me；　not　many；　but　a　few。　　

'Many　are　called。'　he　quoted；　'and　few　chosen。'



'My　father；'　said　I；　'it　is　not　easy　to　say　who　know　the　Lord；　and　

it　is　none　of　our　business。　　Protestants　and　Catholics；　and　even　

those　who　worship　stones；　may　know　Him　and　be　known　by　Him；　for　He　

has　made　all。'



I　did　not　know　I　was　so　good　a　preacher。



The　old　man　assured　me　he　thought　as　I　did；　and　repeated　his　

expressions　of　pleasure　at　meeting　me。　　'We　are　so　few；'　he　said。　　

'They　call　us　Moravians　here；　but　down　in　the　Department　of　Gard；　

where　there　are　also　a　good　number；　they　are　called　Derbists；　after　

an　English　pastor。'



I　began　to　understand　that　I　was　figuring；　in　questionable　taste；　

as　a　member　of　some　sect　to　me　unknown；　but　I　was　more　pleased　with　

the　pleasure　of　my　companion　than　embarrassed　by　my　own　equivocal　

position。　　Indeed；　I　can　see　no　dishonesty　in　not　avowing　a　

difference；　and　especially　in　these　high　matters；　where　we　have　all　

a　sufficient　assurance　that；　whoever　may　be　in　the　wrong；　we　

ourselves　are　not　completely　in　the　right。　　The　truth　is　much　

talked　about；　but　this　old　man　in　a　brown　nightcap　showed　himself　

so　simple；　sweet；　and　friendly；　that　I　am　not　unwilling　to　profess　

myself　his　convert。　　He　was；　as　a　matter　of　fact；　a　Plymouth　

Brother。　　Of　what　that　involves　in　the　way　of　doctrine　I　have　no　

idea　nor　the　time　to　inform　myself；　but　I　know　right　well　that　we　

are　all　embarked　upon　a　troublesome　world；　the　children　of　one　

Father；　striving　in　many　essential　points　to　do　and　to　become　the　

same。　　And　although　it　was　somewhat　in　a　mistake　that　he　shook　

hands　with　me　so　often　and　showed　himself　so　ready　to　receive　my　

words；　that　was　a　mistake　of　the　truth…finding　sort。　　For　charity　

begins　blindfold；　and　only　through　a　series　of　similar　

misapprehensions　rises　at　length　into　a　settled　principle　of　love　

and　patience；　and　a　firm　belief　in　all　our　fellow…men。　　If　I　

deceived　this　good　old　man；　in　the　like　manner　I　would　willingly　go　

on　to　deceive　others。　　And　if　ever　at　length；　out　of　our　separate　

and　sad　ways；　we　should　all　come　together　into　one　common　house；　I　

have　a　hope；　to　which　I　cling　dearly；　that　my　mountain　Plymouth　

Brother　will　hasten　to　shake　hands　with　me　again。



Thus；　talking　like　Christian　and　Faithful　by　the　way；　he　and　I　came　

down　upon　a　hamlet　by　the　Tarn。　　It　was　but　a　humble　place；　called　

La　Vernede；　with　less　than　a　dozen　houses；　and　a　Protestant　chapel　

on　a　knoll。　　Here　he　dwelt；　and　here；　at　the　inn；　I　ordered　my　

breakfast。　　The　inn　was　kept　by　an　agreeable　young　man；　a　stone…

breaker　on　the　road；　and　his　sister；　a　pretty　and　engaging　girl。　　

The　village　schoolmaster　dropped　in　to　speak　with　the　stranger。　　

And　these　were　all　Protestants　…　a　fact　which　pleased　me　more　than　

I　should　have　expected；　and；　what　pleased　me　still　more；　they　

seemed　all　upright　and　simple　people。　　The　Plymouth　Brother　hung　

round　me　with　a　sort　of　yearning　interest；　and　returned　at　least　

thrice　to　make　sure　I　was　enjoying　my　meal。　　His　behaviour　touched　

me　deeply　at　the　time；　and　even　now　moves　me　in　recollection。　　He　

feared　to　intrude；　but　he　would　not　willingly　forego　one　moment　of　

my　society；　and　he　seemed　never　weary　of　shaking　me　by　the　hand。



When　all　the　rest　had　drifted　off　to　their　day's　work；　I　sat　for　

near　half　an　hour　with　the　young　mistress　of　the　house；　who　talked　

pleasantly　over　her　seam　of　the　chestnut　harvest；　and　the　beauties　

of　the　Tarn；　and　old　family　affections；　broken　up　when　young　folk　

go　from　home；　yet　still　subsisting。　　Hers；　I　am　sure；　was　a　sweet　

nature；　with　a　country　plainness　and　much　delicacy　underneath；　and　

he　who　takes　her　to　his　heart　will　doubtless　be　a　fortunate　young　

man。



The　valley　below　La　Vernede　pleased　me　more　and　more　as　I　went　

forward。　　Now　the　hills　approached　from　either　hand；　naked　and　

crumbling；　and　walled　in　the　river　between　cliffs；　and　now　the　

valley　widened　and　became　green。　　The　road　led　me　past　the　old　

castle　of　Miral　on　a　steep；　past　a　battlemented　monastery；　long　

since　broken　up　and　turned　into　a　church　and　parsonage；　and　past　a　

cluster　of　black　roofs；　the　village　of　Cocures；　sitting　among　

vineyards；　and　meadows；　and　orchards　thick　with　red　apples；　and　

where；　along　the　highway；　they　were　knocking　down　walnuts　from　the　

roadside　trees；　and　gathering　them　in　sacks　and　baskets。　　The　

hills；　however　much　the　vale　might　open；　were　still　tall　and　bare；　

with　cliffy　battlements　and　here　and　there　a　pointed　summit；　and　

the　Tarn　still　rattled　through　the　stones　with　a　mountain　noise。　　I　

had　been　led；　by　bagmen　of　a　picturesque　turn　of　mind；　to　expect　a　

horrific　country　after　the　heart　of　Byron；　but　to　my　Scottish　eyes　

it　seemed　smiling　and　plentiful；　as　the　weather　still　gave　an　

impression　of　high　summer　to　my　Scottish　body；　although　the　

chestnuts　were　already　picked　out　by　the　autumn；　and　the　poplars；　

that　here　began　to　mingle　with　them；　had　turned　into　pale　gold　

against　the　approach　of　winter。



There　was　something　in　this　landscape；　smiling　although　wild；　that　

explained　to　me　the　spirit　of　the　Southern　Covenanters。　　Those　who　

took　to　the　hills　for　conscience'　sake　in　Scotland　had　all　gloomy　

and　bedevilled　thoughts；　for　once　that　they　received　God's　comfort　

they　would　be　twice　engaged　with　Satan；　but　the　Camisards　had　only　

bright　and　supporting　visions。　　They　dealt　much　more　in　blood；　both　

given　and　taken；　yet　I　find　no　obsession　of　the　Evil　One　in　their　

records。　　With　a　light　conscience；　they　pursued　their　life　in　these　

rough　times　and　circumstances。　　The　soul　of　Seguier；　let　us　not　

forget；　was　like　a　garden。　　They　knew　they　were　on　God's　side；　with　

a　knowledge　that　has　no　parallel　among　the　Scots；　for　the　Scots；　

although　they　might　be　certain　of　the　cause；　could　never　rest　

confident　of　the　person。



'We　flew；'　says　one　old　Camisard；　'when　we　heard　the　sound　of　

psalm…singing；　we　flew　as　if　with　wings。　　We　felt　within　us　an　

animating　ardour；　a　transporting　desire。　　The　feeling　cannot　be　

expressed　in　words。　　It　is　a　thing　that　must　have　been　experienced　

to　be　understood。　　However　weary　we　might　be；　we　thought　no　more　of　

our　weariness；　and　grew　light　so　soon　as　the　psalms　fell　upon　our　

ears。'



The　valley　of　the　Tarn　and　the　people　whom　I　met　at　La　Vernede　not　

only　explain　to　me　this　passage；　but　the　twenty　years　of　suffering　

which　those；　who　were　so　stiff　and　so　bloody　when　once　they　betook　

themselves　to　war；　endured　with　the　meekness　of　children　and　the　

constancy　of　saints　and　peasants。







FLORAC







ON　a　branch　of　the　Tarn　stands　Florac；　the　seat　of　a　sub…

prefecture；　with　an　old　castle；　an　alley　of　planes；　many　quaint　

street…corners；　and　a　live　fountain　welling　from　the　hill。　　It　is　

notable；　besides；　for　handsome　women；　and　as　one　of　the　two　

capitals；　Alais　being　the　other；　of　the　country　of　the　Camisards。



The　landlord　of　the　inn　took　me；　after　I　had　eaten；　to　an　adjoining　

cafe；　where　I；　or　rather　my　journey；　became　the　topic　of　the　

afternoon。　　Every　one　had　some　suggestion　for　my　guidance；　and　the　

sub…prefectorial　map　was　fetched　from　the　sub…prefecture　itself；　

and　much　thumbed　among　coffee…cups　and　glasses　of　liqueur。　　Most　of　

these　kind　advisers　were　Protestant；　though　I　observed　that　

Protestant　and　Catholic　intermingled　in　a　very　easy　manner；　and　it　

surprised　me　to　see　what　a　lively　memory　still　subsisted　of　the　

religious　war。　　Among　the　hills　of　the　south…west；　by　Mauchline；　

Cumnock；　or　Carsphairn；　in　isolated　farms　or　in　the　manse；　serious　

Presbyterian　people　still　recall　the　days　of　the　great　persecution；　

and　the　graves　of　local　martyrs　are　still　piously　regarded。　　But　in　

towns　and　among　the　so…called　better　classes；　I　fear　that　these　old　

doings　have　become　an　idle　tale。　　If　you　met　a　mixed　company　in　the　

King's　Arms　at　Wigton；　it　is　not　likely　that　the　talk　would　run　on　

Covenanters。　　Nay；　at　Muirkirk　of　Glenluce；　I　found　the　beadle's　

wife　had　not　so　much　as　heard　of　Prophet　Peden。　　But　these　Cevenols　

wer