In Aix-les-Bains, where sidewalks are scarce and everybody walks in the
streets, there is plenty of room, but that is no matter; you are always
escaping collisions by mere quarter inches. A man or woman who is headed
in such a way as to cross your course presently without a collision will
actually alter his direction shade by shade and compel a collision
unless at the last instant you jump out of the way. Those folks are not
dressed as ladies and gentlemen. And they do not seem to be consciously
crowding you out of the road; they seem to be innocently and stupidly
unaware that they are doing it. But not so in Geneva. There this class,
especially the men, crowd out men, women, and girls of all rank and
raiment consciously and intentionally--crowd them off the sidewalk and
into the gutter.
There was nothing of this sort in Bayreuth. But here--well, here the
thing is astonishing. Collisions are unavoidable unless you do all the
yielding yourself. Another odd thing--here this savagery is confined to
the folk who wear the fine clothes; the others are courteous and
considerate. A big burly Comanche, with all the signs about him of
wealth and education, will tranquilly force young ladies to step off
into the gutter to avoid being run down by him. It is a mistake that
there is no bath that will cure people’s manners. But drowning would
help.
However, perhaps one can’t look for any real showy amount of delicacy of
feeling in a country where a person is brought up to contemplate without
a shudder the spectacle of women harnessed up with dogs and hauling
carts. The woman is on one side of the pole, the dog on the other, and
they bend to the work and tug and pant and strain--and the man tramps
leisurely alongside and smokes his pipe. Often the woman is old and
gray, and the man is her grandson. The Austrian national ornithological
device ought to be replaced by a grandmother harnessed to a slush cart
with a dog. This merely in the interest of fact. Heraldic fancy has been
a little too much overworked in these countries, anyway.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
Reviews
Reviews
No reviews yet
Be the first to share your thoughts on this work.
Elsewhere in the archive
Join the Discussion
Join the discussion
Sign in to leave a comment or review.
Sign InorCreate an account