worldly ways and byways- 第18部分

often　wonder　what　has　become　of　those　vast　IN…FOLIOS；　and　if　any　

one　ever　opens　them　now　and　admires　as　we　did　the　glowing　colored　

plates　in　which　the　old　ornithologist　took　such　pride。　　There　is　

something　infinitely　sad　in　the　idea　of　a　collection　of　books　

slowly　gathered　together　at　the　price　of　privations　and　sacrifices；　

cherished；　fondled；　lovingly　read；　and　then　at　the　owner's　death；　

coldly　sent　away　to　stand　for　ever　unopened　on　the　shelves　of　some　

public　library。　　It　is　like　neglecting　poor　dumb　children！



An　event　that　made　a　profound　impression　on　my　childish　imagination　

occurred　while　my　father；　who　was　never　tired　of　improving　our　

little　domain；　was　cutting　a　pathway　down　the　steep　side　of　the　

slope　to　the　river。　　A　great　slab；　dislodged　by　a　workman's　pick；　

fell　disclosing　the　grave　of　an　Indian　chief。　　In　a　low　archway　or　

shallow　cave　sat　the　skeleton　of　the　chieftain；　his　bows　and　arrows　

arranged　around　him　on　the　ground；　mingled　with　fragments　of　an　

elaborate　costume；　of　which　little　remained　but　the　bead…work。　　

That　it　was　the　tomb　of　a　man　great　among　his　people　was　evident　

from　the　care　with　which　the　grave　had　been　prepared　and　then　

hidden；　proving　how；　hundreds　of　years　before　our　civilization；　

another　race　had　chosen　this　noble　cliff　and　stately　river　

landscape　as　the　fitting　framework　for　a　great　warrior's　tomb。



This　discovery　made　no　little　stir　in　the　scientific　world　of　that　

day。　　Hundreds　came　to　see　it；　and　as　photography　had　not　then　come　

into　the　world；　many　drawings　were　made　and　casts　taken；　and　

finally　the　whole　thing　was　removed　to　the　rooms　of　the　Historical　

Society。　　From　that　day　the　lonely　little　path　held　an　awful　charm　

for　us。　　Our　childish　readings　of　Cooper　had　developed　in　us　that　

love　of　the　Indian　and　his　wild　life；　so　characteristic　of　boyhood　

thirty　years　ago。　　On　still　summer　afternoons；　the　place　had　a　

primeval　calm　that　froze　the　young　blood　in　our　veins。　　Although　we　

prided　ourselves　on　our　quality　as　〃braves；〃　and　secretly　pined　to　

be　led　on　the　war…path；　we　were　shy　of　walking　in　that　vicinity　in　

daylight；　and　no　power　on　earth；　not　even　the　offer　of　the　tomahawk　

or　snow…shoes　for　which　our　souls　longed；　would　have　taken　us　there　

at　night。



A　place　connected　in　my　memory　with　a　tragic　association　was　across　

the　river　on　the　last　southern　slope　of　the　Palisades。　　Here　we　

stood　breathless　while　my　father　told　the　brief　story　of　the　duel　

between　Burr　and　Hamilton；　and　showed　us　the　rock　stained　by　the　

younger　man's　life…blood。　　In　those　days　there　was　a　simple　iron　

railing　around　the　spot　where　Hamilton　had　expired；　but　of　later　

years　I　have　been　unable　to　find　any　trace　of　the　place。　　The　tide　

of　immigration　has　brought　so　deep　a　deposit　of　〃saloons〃　and　

suburban　〃balls〃　that　the　very　face　of　the　land　is　changed；　old　

lovers　of　that　shore　know　it　no　more。　　Never　were　the　environs　of　a　

city　so　wantonly　and　recklessly　degraded。　　Municipalities　have　vied　

with　millionaires　in　soiling　and　debasing　the　exquisite　shores　of　

our　river；　that；　thirty　years　ago；　were　unrivalled　the　world　over。



The　glamour　of　the　past　still　lies　for　me　upon　this　landscape　in　

spite　of　its　many　defacements。　　The　river　whispers　of　boyish　

boating　parties；　and　the　woods　recall　a　thousand　childish　hopes　and　

fears；　resolute　departures　to　join　the　pirates；　or　the　red　men　in　

their　strongholds　…　journeys　boldly　carried　out　until　twilight　

cooled　our　courage　and　the　supper…hour　proved　a　stronger　temptation　

than　war　and　carnage。



When　I　sat　down　this　summer　evening　to　write　a　few　lines　about　

happy　days　on　the　banks　of　the　Hudson；　I　hardly　realized　how　sweet　

those　memories　were　to　me。　　The　rewriting　of　the　old　names　has　

evoked　from　their　long　sleep　so　many　loved　faces。　　Arms　seem　

reaching　out　to　me　from　the　past。　　The　house　is　very　still　tonight。　　

I　seem　to　be　nearer　my　loved　dead　than　to　the　living。　　The　bells　of　

my　lost　〃Is〃　are　ringing　clear　in　the　silence。









CHAPTER　17　…　Royalty　At　Play





FEW　more　amusing　sights　are　to　be　seen　in　these　days；　than　that　of　

crowned　heads　running　away　from　their　dull　old　courts　and　

functions；　roughing　it　in　hotels　and　villas；　gambling；　yachting　and　

playing　at　being　rich　nobodies。　　With　much　intelligence　they　have　

all　chosen　the　same　Republican　playground；　where　visits　cannot　

possibly　be　twisted　into　meaning　any　new　〃combination〃　or　political　

move；　thus　assuring　themselves　the　freedom　from　care　or　

responsibility；　that　seems　to　be　the　aim　of　their　existence。　　

Alongside　of　well…to…do　Royalties　in　good　paying　situations；　are　

those　out　of　a　job；　who　are　looking　about　for　a　〃place。〃　　One　

cannot　take　an　afternoon's　ramble　anywhere　between　Cannes　and　

Mentone　without　meeting　a　half…dozen　of　these　magnates。



The　other　day；　in　one　short　walk；　I　ran　across　three　Empresses；　two　

Queens；　and　an　Heir…apparent；　and　then　fled　to　my　hotel；　fearing　to　

be　unfitted　for　America；　if　I　went　on　〃keeping　such　company。〃　　They　

are　knowing　enough；　these　wandering　great　ones；　and　after　trying　

many　places　have　hit　on　this　charming　coast　as　offering　more　than　

any　other　for　their　comfort　and　enjoyment。　　The　vogue　of　these　

sunny　shores　dates　from　their　annexation　to　France；　…　a　price　

Victor　Emmanuel　reluctantly　paid　for　French　help　in　his　war　with　

Austria。　　Napoleon　III。's　demand　for　Savoy　and　this　littoral；　was　

first　made　known　to　Victor　Emmanuel　at　a　state　ball　at　Genoa。　　

Savoy　was　his　birthplace　and　his　home！　　The　King　broke　into　a　wild　

temper；　cursing　the　French　Emperor　and　making　insulting　allusions　

to　his　parentage；　saying　he　had　not　one　drop　of　Bonaparte　blood　in　

his　veins。　　The　King's　frightened　courtiers　tried　to　stop　this　

outburst；　showing　him　the　French　Ambassador　at　his　elbow。　　With　a　

superhuman　effort　Victor　Emmanuel　controlled　himself；　and　turning　

to　the　Ambassador；　said：



〃I　fear　my　tongue　ran　away　with　me！〃　　With　a　smile　and　a　bow　the　

great　French　diplomatist　remarked：



〃SIRE；　I　am　so　deaf　I　have　not　heard　a　word　your　Majesty　has　been　

saying！〃



The　fashion　of　coming　to　the　Riviera　for　health　or　for　amusement；　

dates　from　the　sixties；　when　the　Empress　of　Russia　passed　a　winter　

at　Nice；　as　a　last　attempt　to　prolong　the　existence　of　the　dying　

Tsarewitsch；　her　son。　　There　also　the　next　season　the　Duke　of　

Edinburgh　wooed　and　won　her　daughter　（then　the　greatest　heiress　in　

Europe）　for　his　bride。　　The　world　moves　fast　and　a　journey　it　

required　a　matter　of　life　and　death　to　decide　on；　then；　is　gayly　

undertaken　now；　that　a　prince　may　race　a　yacht；　or　a　princess　try　

her　luck　at　the　gambling　tables。　　When　one　reflects　that　the　〃royal　

caste；〃　in　Europe　alone；　numbers　some　eight　hundred　people；　and　

that　the　East　is　beginning　to　send　out　its　more　enterprising　

crowned　heads　to　get　a　taste　of　the　fun；　that　beyond　drawing　their　

salaries；　these　good　people　have　absolutely　nothing　to　do；　except　

to　amuse　themselves；　it　is　no　wonder　that　this　happy　land　is　

crowded　with　royal　pleasure…seekers。



After　a　try　at　Florence　and　Aix；　〃the　Queen〃　has　been　faithful　to　

Cimiez；　a　charming　site　back　of　Nice。　　That　gay　city　is　always　EN　

FETE　the　day　she　arrives；　as　her　carriages　pass　surrounded　by　

French　cavalry；　one　can　catch　a　glimpse　of　her　big　face；　and　dowdy　

little　figure；　which　nevertheless　she　can　make　so　dignified　when　

occasion　requires。　　The　stay　here　is；　indeed；　a　holiday　for　this　

record…breaking　sovereign；　who　potters　about　her　private　grounds　of　

a　morning　in　a　donkey…chair；　sunning　herself　and　watching　her　

Battenberg　grandchildren　at　play。　　In　the　afternoon；　she　drives　a　

couple　of　hours　…　in　an　open　carriage　…　one　outrider　in　black　

livery　alone　distinguishing　her　turnout　from　the　others。



The　Prince　of　Wales　makes　his　headquarters　at　Cannes　where　he　has　

poor　luck　in　sailing　the　Brittania；　for　which　he　consoles　himself　

with　jolly　dinners　at　Monte　Carlo。　　You　can　see　him　almost　any　

evening　in　the　RESTAURANT　DE　PARIS；　surrounded　by　his　own　

particular　set；　…　the　Duchess　of　Devonshire　（who　started　a　

penniless　German　officer's　daughter；　and　became　twice　a　duchess）；　

Lady　de　Grey　and　Lady　Wolverton；　both　showing　near　six　feet　of　

slender　English　beauty；　at　their　side；　and　lovelier　than　either；　

the　Countess　of　Essex。　　The　husbands　of　these　〃Merry　Wives〃　are　

absent；　but　do　not　seem　to　be　missed；　as　the　ladies　sit　smoking　and　

laughing　over　their　coffee；　the　party　only　breaking　up　towards　

eleven　o'clock　to　try　its　luck　at　TRENTE　ET　QUARANTE；　until　a　

〃special〃　takes　them　back　to　Cannes。



He　is　getting　sadly　old　and　fat；　is　England's　heir；　the　likeness　to　

his　mamma　becoming　more　marked　each　year。　　His　voice；　too；　is　oddly　

like　hers；　deep　and　guttural；　more　adapted　to　the　paternal　German　

（which　all　this　family　speak　when　alone）　than　to　his　native　

English。　　Hair；　he　has