little travels and roadside sketches-第7部分

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preservation　as　others　that　may　be　seen　in　the　Netherlands。　　The

commercial　bustle　of　the　place　seems　considerable；　and　it　contains

more　beer…shops　than　any　city　I　ever　saw。



These　beer…shops　seem　the　only　amusement　of　the　inhabitants；　until；

at　least；　the　theatre　shall　be　built；　of　which　the　elevation　is　now

complete；　a　very　handsome　and　extensive　pile。　　There　are　beer…shops

in　the　cellars　of　the　houses；　which　are　frequented；　it　is　to　be

presumed；　by　the　lower　sort；　there　are　beer…shops　at　the　barriers；

where　the　citizens　and　their　families　repair；　and　beer…shops　in　the

town；　glaring　with　gas；　with　long　gauze　blinds；　however；　to　hide

what　I　hear　is　a　rather　questionable　reputation。



Our　inn；　the　〃Hotel　of　the　Post；〃　a　spacious　and　comfortable

residence；　is　on　a　little　place　planted　round　with　trees；　and　that

seems　to　be　the　Palais　Royal　of　the　town。　　Three　clubs；　which　look

from　without　to　be　very　comfortable；　ornament　this　square　with

their　gas…lamps。　　Here　stands；　too；　the　theatre　that　is　to　be；

there　is　a　cafe；　and　on　evenings　a　military　band　plays　the　very

worst　music　I　ever　remember　to　have　heard。　　I　went　out　to…night　to

take　a　quiet　walk　upon　this　place；　and　the　horrid　brazen　discord　of

these　trumpeters　set　me　half　mad。



I　went　to　the　cafe　for　refuge；　passing　on　the　way　a　subterraneous

beer…shop；　where　men　and　women　were　drinking　to　the　sweet　music　of

a　cracked　barrel…organ。　　They　take　in　a　couple　of　French　papers　at

this　cafe；　and　the　same　number　of　Belgian　journals。　　You　may

imagine　how　well　the　latter　are　informed；　when　you　hear　that　the

battle　of　Boulogne；　fought　by　the　immortal　Louis　Napoleon；　was　not

known　here　until　some　gentlemen　out　of　Norfolk　brought　the　news

from　London；　and　until　it　had　travelled　to　Paris；　and　from　Paris　to

Brussels。　　For　a　whole　hour　I　could　not　get　a　newspaper　at　the

cafe。　　The　horrible　brass　band　in　the　meantime　had　quitted　the

place；　and　now；　to　amuse　the　Ghent　citizens；　a　couple　of　little

boys　came　to　the　cafe　and　set　up　a　small　concert：　one　played　ill　on

the　guitar；　but　sang；　very　sweetly；　plaintive　French　ballads；　the

other　was　the　comic　singer；　he　carried　about　with　him　a　queer；

long；　damp…looking；　mouldy　white　hat；　with　no　brim。　　〃Ecoutez；〃

said　the　waiter　to　me；　〃il　va　faire　l'Anglais；　c'est　tres　drole！〃

The　little　rogue　mounted　his　immense　brimless　hat；　and；　thrusting

his　thumbs　into　the　armholes　of　his　waistcoat；　began　to　faire

l'Anglais；　with　a　song　in　which　swearing　was　the　principal　joke。

We　all　laughed　at　this；　and　indeed　the　little　rascal　seemed　to　have

a　good　deal　of　humor。



How　they　hate　us；　these　foreigners；　in　Belgium　as　much　as　in

France！　　What　lies　they　tell　of　us；　how　gladly　they　would　see　us

humiliated！　　Honest　folks　at　home　over　their　port…wine　say；　〃Ay；

ay；　and　very　good　reason　they　have　too。　　National　vanity；　sir；

woundedwe　have　beaten　them　so　often。〃　　My　dear　sir；　there　is　not

a　greater　error　in　the　world　than　this。　　They　hate　you　because　you

are　stupid；　hard　to　please；　and　intolerably　insolent　and　air…

giving。　　I　walked　with　an　Englishman　yesterday；　who　asked　the　way

to　a　street　of　which　he　pronounced　the　name　very　badly　to　a　little

Flemish　boy：　the　Flemish　boy　did　not　answer；　and　there　was　my

Englishman　quite　in　a　rage；　shrieking　in　the　child's　ear　as　if　he

must　answer。　　He　seemed　to　think　that　it　was　the　duty　of　〃the

snob；〃　as　he　called　him；　to　obey　the　gentleman。　　This　is　why　we　are

hatedfor　pride。　　In　our　free　country　a　tradesman；　a　lackey；　or　a

waiter　will　submit　to　almost　any　given　insult　from　a　gentleman：　in

these　benighted　lands　one　man　is　as　good　as　another；　and　pray　God

it　may　soon　be　so　with　us！　　Of　all　European　people；　which　is　the

nation　that　has　the　most　haughtiness；　the　strongest　prejudices；　the

greatest　reserve；　the　greatest　dulness？　　I　say　an　Englishman　of　the

genteel　classes。　　An　honest　groom　jokes　and　hobs…and…nobs　and　makes

his　way　with　the　kitchen…maids；　for　there　is　good　social　nature　in

the　man；　his　master　dare　not　unbend。　　Look　at　him；　how　he　scowls　at

you　on　your　entering　an　inn…room；　think　how　you　scowl　yourself　to

meet　his　scowl。　　To…day；　as　we　were　walking　and　staring　about　the

place；　a　worthy　old　gentleman　in　a　carriage；　seeing　a　pair　of

strangers；　took　off　his　hat　and　bowed　very　gravely　with　his　old

powdered　head　out　of　the　window：　I　am　sorry　to　say　that　our　first

impulse　was　to　burst　out　laughingit　seemed　so　supremely

ridiculous　that　a　stranger　should　notice　and　welcome　another。



As　for　the　notion　that　foreigners　hate　us　because　we　have　beaten

them　so　often；　my　dear　sir；　this　is　the　greatest　error　in　the

world：　well…educated　Frenchmen　DO　NOT　BELIEVE　THAT　WE　HAVE　BEATEN

THEM。　　A　man　was　once　ready　to　call　me　out　in　Paris　because　I　said

that　we　had　beaten　the　French　in　Spain；　and　here　before　me　is　a

French　paper；　with　a　London　correspondent　discoursing　about　Louis

Buonaparte　and　his　jackass　expedition　to　Boulogne。　　〃He　was

received　at　Eglintoun；　it　is　true；〃　says　the　correspondent；　〃but

what　do　you　think　was　the　reason？　　Because　the　English　nobility

were　anxious　to　revenge　upon　his　person　（with　some　coups　de　lance）

the　checks　which　the　'grand　homme'　his　uncle　had　inflicted　on　us　in

Spain。〃



This　opinion　is　so　general　among　the　French；　that　they　would　laugh

at　you　with　scornful　incredulity　if　you　ventured　to　assert　any

other。　　Foy's　history　of　the　Spanish　War　does　not；　unluckily；　go

far　enough。　　I　have　read　a　French　history　which　hardly　mentions　the

war　in　Spain；　and　calls　the　battle　of　Salamanca　a　French　victory。

You　know　how　the　other　day；　and　in　the　teeth　of　all　evidence；　the

French　swore　to　their　victory　of　Toulouse：　and　so　it　is　with　the

rest；　and　you　may　set　it　down　as　pretty　certain；　1st；　That　only　a

few　people　know　the　real　state　of　things　in　France；　as　to　the

matter　in　dispute　between　us；　2nd；　That　those　who　do；　keep　the

truth　to　themselves；　and　so　it　is　as　if　it　had　never　been。



These　Belgians　have　caught　up；　and　quite　naturally；　the　French

tone。　　We　are　perfide　Albion　with　them　still。　　Here　is　the　Ghent

paper；　which　declares　that　it　is　beyond　a　doubt　that　Louis　Napoleon

was　sent　by　the　English　and　Lord　Palmerston；　and　though　it　states

in　another　part　of　the　journal　（from　English　authority）　that　the

Prince　had　never　seen　Lord　Palmerston；　yet　the　lie　will　remain

uppermostthe　people　and　the　editor　will　believe　it　to　the　end　of

time。　。　。　。　　See　to　what　a　digression　yonder　little　fellow　in　the

tall　hat　has　given　rise！　　Let　us　make　his　picture；　and　have　done

with　him。





I　could　not　understand；　in　my　walks　about　this　place；　which　is

certainly　picturesque　enough；　and　contains　extraordinary　charms　in

the　shape　of　old　gables；　quaint　spires；　and　broad　shining　canals

I　could　not　at　first　comprehend　why；　for　all　this；　the　town　was

especially　disagreeable　to　me；　and　have　only　just　hit　on　the　reason

why。　　Sweetest　Juliana；　you　will　never　guess　it：　it　is　simply　this；

that　I　have　not　seen　a　single　decent…looking　woman　in　the　whole

place；　they　look　all　ugly；　with　coarse　mouths；　vulgar　figures；　mean

mercantile　faces；　and　so　the　traveller　walking　among　them　finds　the

pleasure　of　his　walk　excessively　damped；　and　the　impressions　made

upon　him　disagreeable。



In　the　Academy　there　are　no　pictures　of　merit；　but　sometimes　a

second…rate　picture　is　as　pleasing　as　the　best；　and　one　may　pass　an

hour　here　very　pleasantly。　　There　is　a　room　appropriated　to　Belgian

artists；　of　which　I　never　saw　the　like：　they　are；　like　all　the　rest

of　the　things　in　this　country；　miserable　imitations　of　the　French

schoolgreat　nude　Venuses；　and　Junos　a　la　David；　with　the　drawing

left　out。





BRUGES。



The　change　from　vulgar　Ghent；　with　its　ugly　women　and　coarse

bustle；　to　this　quiet；　old；　half…deserted；　cleanly　Bruges；　was　very

pleasant。　　I　have　seen　old　men　at　Versailles；　with　shabby　coats　and

pigtails；　sunning　themselves　on　the　benches　in　the　walls；　they　had

seen　better　days；　to　be　sure；　but　they　were　gentlemen　still：　and　so

we　found；　this　morning；　old　dowager　Bruges　basking　in　the　pleasant

August　sun；　and　looking　if　not　prosperous；　at　least　cheerful　and

well…bred。　　It　is　the　quaintest　and　prettiest　of　all　the　quaint　and

pretty　towns　I　have　seen。　　A　painter　might　spend　months　here；　and

wander　from　church　to　church；　and　admire　old　towers　and　pinnacles；

tall　gables；　bright　canals；　and　pretty　little　patches　of　green

garden　and　moss…grown　wall；　that　reflect　in　the　clear　quiet　water。

Before　the　inn…window　is　a　garden；　from　which　in　the　early　morning

issues　a　most　wonderful　odor　of　stocks　and　wallflowers；　next　comes

a　road　with　trees　of　admirable　green；　numbers　of　little　children

are　playing　in　this　road　（the　place　is　so　clean　that　they　may　roll

in　it　all　day　without　soiling　their　pinafores）；　and　on　the　other

side　of　the　trees　are　little　old…fashioned；　dumpy；　whitewashed；

red…tiled　houses。　　A　poorer　landscape　to　draw　never　was　known；　nor

a　pleasanter　to　seethe　children　especially；　who　are　inordinately

fat　and　rosy。　　Let　it　be　remembered；　too；　that　here　we　are　out　of

the　country　of　ugly　women：　the　expression　of　the　face　is　almost

uniformly　gentle　and　pleasing；　and　the　figures　of　the　women；

wrapped　in　long　black　monk…like　cloaks　and　hoods；　very　picturesque。

No　wonder　there　are　so　many　children：　the　〃Guide…book〃　（omniscient

Mr。　Murray！）　says　there　are　fifteen　thousand　paupers　in　the　town；

and　we　know　how　such　multiply。　　How　the　deuce　do　their　children

look　so　fat　and　rosy？　　By　eating　dirt…pies；　I　suppose。　　I　saw　a

couple　making　a　very　nice　savory　one；　and　another　employed　in

gravely　sticking　strips　of　stick　betwixt　the　pebbles　at　the　house…

door；　and　so　making　for　herself　a　stately　garden。　　The　men　and

women　don't　seem　to　have　much　more　to　do。　　There　are　a　couple　of

tall　chimneys　at　either　suburb　of　the　town；　where　no　doubt

manufactories　are　at　work；　but　within　the　walls　everybody　seems

decently　idle。