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Around the World on a Bicycle V1

T >> Thomas Stevens >> Around the World on a Bicycle V1




For mile after mile we have to trundle our way slowly along the muddy
highway as best we can, our road leading through a flat and rather swampy
area of broad, waving wheat-fields; we relieve the tedium of the journey
by whistling, alternately, "Yankee Doodle," to which Igali has taken
quite a fancy since first hearing it played by the gypsy band in the
wine-garden at Szekszard three days ago, and the Hungarian national air -
this latter, of course, falling to Igali's share of the entertainment.
Having been to college in Paris, Igali is also able to contribute the
famous Marseillaise hymn, and, not to be outdone, I favor him with " God
Save the Queen" and "Britannia Rules the Waves," both of which he thinks
very good tunes-the former seeming to strike his Hungarian ear, however,
as rather solemn. In the middle of the forenoon we make a brief halt at
a rude road-side tavern for some refreshments - a thick, narrow slice of
raw, fat bacon, white with salt, and a level pint of red wine, satisfying
my companion; but I substitute for the bacon a slice of coarse, black
bread, much to Igali's wonderment. Here are congregated several Slavonian
shepherds, in their large, ill-fitting, sheepskin garments, with the
long wool turned inward-clothes that apparently serve them alike to keep
out the summer's heat and the winter's cold. One of the peasants, with
ideas a trifle befuddled with wine, perhaps, and face all aglow with
admiration for our bicycles, produces a tattered memorandum and begs us
to favor him with our autographs, an act that of itself proves him to
be not without a degree of intelligence one would scarcely look for in
a sheepskin-clad shepherd of Slavonia. Igali gruffly bids the man
"begone," and aims a careless kick at the proffered memorandum; but seeing
no harm in the request, and, moreover, being perhaps by nature a trifle
more considerate of others, I comply. As he reads aloud, "United States,
America," to his comrades, they one and all lift their hats quite
reverently and place their brown hands over their hearts, for I suppose
they recognize in my ready compliance with the simple request, in
comparison with Igali's rude rebuff-which, by the way, no doubt comes
natural enough-the difference between the land of the prince and peasant,
and the land where "liberty, equality, and fraternity" is not a meaningless
motto - a land which I find every down-trodden peasant of Europe has heard
of, and looks upward to.

Soon after this incident we are passing a prune-orchard, when, as though
for our especial benefit, a couple of peasants working there begin singing
aloud, and with evident enthusiasm, some national melody, and as they
observe not our presence, at my suggestion we crouch behind a convenient
clump of bushes and for several minutes are favored with as fine a duet
as I have heard for many a day; but the situation becomes too ridiculous
for Igali, and it finally sends him into a roar of laughter that causes
the performance to terminate abruptly, and, rising into full view, we
doubtless repay the singers by letting them see us mount and ride into
their native village, but a few hundred yards distant. We are to-day
passing through villages where a bicycle has never been seen - this being
outside the area of Igali's peregrinations - and the whole population
invariably turns out en masse, clerks, proprietors, and customers in the
shops unceremoniously dropping everything and running to the streets;
there is verily a hurrying to and fro of all the citizens; husbands
hastening from magazine to dwelling to inform their wives and families,
mothers running to call their children, children their parents, and
everybody scampering to call the attention of their sisters, cousins,
and aunts, ere we are vanished in the distance, and it be everlastingly
too late.

We have been worrying along at some sort of pace, with the exception of
the usual noontide halt, since six o'clock this morning, and the busy
mosquito is making life interesting for belated wayfarers, when we ride
into Sarengrad and put up at the only gasthaus in the village. Our bedroom
is situated on the ground floor, the only floor in fact the gaathaus
boasts, and we are in a fair way of either being lulled to sleep or kept
awake, as the case may be, by a howling chorus of wine-bibbers in the
public room adjoining; but here, again, Igali shows up to good advantage
by peremptorily ordering the singers to stop, and stop instanter. The
amiably disposed peasants, notwithstanding the wine they have been
drinking, cease their singing and become silent and circumspect, in
deference to the wishes of the two strangers with the wonderful machines.
We now make a practice of taking our bicycles into our bedroom with us
at night, otherwise every right hand in the whole village would busy
itself pinching the "gum-elastic" tires and pedal-rubbers, twirling the
pedals, feeling spokes, backbone, and forks, and critically examining
and commenting upon every visible portion of the mechanism; and who knows
but that the latent cupidity of some easy-conscienced villager might be
aroused at the unusual sight of so much "silver" standing around loose
(the natives hereabout don't even ask whether the nickelled parts of the
bicycle are silver or not; they take it for granted to be so), and
surreptitiously attempt to chisel off enough to purchase an embroidered
coat for Sundays. From what I can understand of their comments among
themselves, it is perfectly consistent with their ideas of the average
Englishman that he should bestride a bicycle of solid silver, and if
their vocabulary embraced no word corresponding to our "millionnaire,"
and they desired to use one, they would probably pick upon the word
"Englander" as the most appropriate. While we are making our toilets in
the morning eager faces are peering inquisitively through the bedroom
windows; a murmur of voices, criticizing us and our strange vehicles,
greets our waking moments, and our privacy is often invaded, in spite
of Igali's inconsiderate treatment of them whenever they happen to cross
his path.

Many of the inhabitants of this part of Slavonia are Croatians - people
who are noted for their fondness of finery; and, as on this sunny Sunday
morning we wheel through their villages, the crowds of peasantry who
gather about us in all the bravery of their best clothes present, indeed,
an appearance gay and picturesque beyond anything hitherto encountered.
The garments of the men are covered with braid-work and silk embroidery
wherever such ornamentation is thought to be an embellishment, and, to
the Croatian mind, that means pretty much everywhere; and the girls and
women are arrayed in the gayest of colors; those displaying the brightest
hues and the greatest contrasts seem to go tripping along conscious of
being irresistible. Many of the Croatian peasants are fine, strapping
fellows, and very handsome women are observed in the villages - women with
great, dreamy eyes, and faces with an expression of languor that bespeaks
their owners to be gentleness personified. Igali shows evidence of more
susceptibility to female charms than I should naturally have given him
credit for, and shows a decided inclination to linger in these beauty-blessed
villages longer than is necessary, and as one dark-eyed damsel after
another gathers around us, I usually take the initiative in mounting and
clearing out.

Were a man to go suddenly flapping his way through the streets of London
on the long-anticipated flying-machine, the average Cockney would scarce
betray the unfeigned astonishment that is depicted on the countenances
of these Croatian villagers as we nde into their midst and dismount.

This afternoon my bicycle causes the first runaway since the trifling
affair at Lembach, Austria. A brown-faced peasant woman and a little
girl, driving a small, shaggy pony harnessed to a basket-work, four-wheeled
vehicle, are approaching; their humble-looking steed betrays no evidence
of restiveness until just as I am turning out to pass him, when, without
warning, he gives a swift, sudden bound to the right, nearly upsetting
the vehicle, and without more ado bolts down a considerable embankment
and goes helter-skelter across a field of standing grain. The old lady
pluckily hangs on to the reins, and finally succeeds in bringing the
runaway around into the road again without damaging anything save the
corn. It might have ended much less satisfactorily, however, and the
incident illustrates one possible source of trouble to a 'cycler travelling
alone through countries where the people neither understand, nor can be
expected to understand, a wheelman's position; the situation would, of
course, be aggravated in a country village where, not speaking the
language, one could not make himself understood in his own defence. These
people here, if not wise as serpents, are at least harmless as doves;
but, in case of the bicycle frightening a team and causing a runaway
with the unpleasant sequel of broken limbs, or injured horse, they would
scarce know what to do in the premises, since they would have no precedent
to govern them, and, in the absence of any intelligent guidance, might
conclude to wreak summary vengeance on the bicycle. In such a case, would
a wheelman be justified in using his revolver to defend his bicycle ?

Such is the reverie into which I fall while reclining beneath a spreading
mulberry-tree waiting for Igali to catch up; for he has promised that I
shall see the Slavonian national dance sometime to-day, and a village
is now visible in the distance. At the Danube-side village of Hamenitz
an hour's halt is decided upon to give me the promised opportunity of
witnessing the dance in its native land. It is a novel and interesting
sight. A round hundred young gallants and maidens are rigged out in
finery such as no other people save the Croatian and Slavonian peasants
ever wear - the young men braided and embroidered, and the damsels having
their hair entwined with a profusion of natural flowers in addition to
their costumes of all possible hues. Forming themselves into a large
ring, distributed so that the sexes alternate, the young men extend and
join their hands in front of the maidens, and the latter join hands
behind their partners; the steel-strung tamboricas strike up a lively
twanging air, to which the circle of dancers endeavor to shuffle time
with their feet, while at the same time moving around in a circle Livelier
and faster twang the tamboricas, and more and more animated becomes the
scene as the dancing, shuffling ring endeavors to keep pace with it. As
the fun progresses into the fast and furious stages the youths' hats
have a knack of getting into a jaunty position on the side of their
heads, and the wearers' faces assume a reckless, flushed appearance,
like men half intoxicated while the maidens' bright eyes and beaming
faces betoken unutterable happiness; finally the music and the shuffling
of feet terminate with a rapid flourish, everybody kisses everybody - save,
of course, mere luckless onlookers like Igali and myself - and the Slavonian
national dance is ended.

To-night we reach the strongly fortified town of Peterwardein, opposite
which, just across a pontoon bridge spanning the Danube, is the larger
city of Neusatz. At Hamenitz we met Professor Zaubaur, the editor of the
Uj Videk, who came down the Danube ahead of us by steamboat; and now,
after housing our machines at our gasthaus in Peterwardein, he pilots
us across the pontoon bridge in the twilight, and into one of those wine-
gardens so universal in this part of the world. Here at Neusatz I listen
to the genuine Hungarian gypsy music for the last time on the European
tour ere bidding the territory of Hungary adieu, for Neusatz is on the
Hungarian side of the Danube. The professor has evidently let no grass
grow beneath his feet since leaving us scarcely an hour ago at Hamenitz,
for he has, in the mean time, ferreted out the only English-speaking
person at present in town, the good Frau Schrieber, an Austrian lady,
formerly of Vienna, but now at Neusatz with her husband, a well-known
advocate. This lady talks English quite fluently. Though not yet twenty-five
she is very, very wise, and among other things she informs her admiring
friends gathered round about us, listening to the - to them - unintelligible
flow of a foreign language, that Englishmen are "very grave beings," a
piece of information that wrings from Igali a really sympathetic response-
nothing less than the startling announcement that he hasn't seen me smile
since we left Budapest together, a week ago. "Having seen the Slavonian,
I ought by all means to see the Hungarian national dance," Frau Schrieber
says; adding, "It is a nice dance for Englishmen to look at, though it
is so very gay that English ladies would neither dance it nor look at
it being danced." Ere parting company with this entertaining lady she
agrees that, if I will but remain in Hungary permanently, she knows of
a very handsome fraulein of sixteen summers, who, having heard of my
"wonderful journey," is already predisposed in my favor, and with a
little friendly tact and management on her - Frau Schrieber's - part would
no doubt be willing to waive the formalities of a long courtship, and
yield up hand and heart at my request. I can scarcely think of breaking
in twain my trip around the world even for so tempting a prospect, and
I recommend the fair Hungarian to Igali; but "the fraulein has never
heard of Herr Igali, and he will not do."

"Will the fraulein be willing to wait until my journey around the world
is completed."

"Yes; she vill vait mit much pleezure; I vill zee dat she vait; und I
know you vill return, for an Englishman alvays forgets his promeezes."
Henceforth, when Igali and myself enter upon a programme of whistling,
"Yankee Doodle" is supplanted by "The girl I left behind me," much
to his annoyance, since, not understanding the sentiment responsible for
the change, bethinks "Yankee Doodle" a far better tune. So much attached,
in fact, has Igali become to the American national air, that he informs
the professor and editor of Uj Videk of the circumstance of the band
playing it at Szekszard. As, after supper, several of us promenade the
streets of Neusatz, the professor links his arm in mine, and, taking the
cue from Igali, begs me to favor him by whistling it. I try my best to
palm this patriotic duty off on Igali, by paying flattering compliments
to his style of whistling; but, after all, the duty falls on me, and I
whistle the tune softly, yet merrily, as we walk along, the professor,
spectacled and wise-looking, meanwhile exchanging numerous nods of
recognition with his fellow-Neusatzers we meet. The provost-judge of
Neusatz shares the honors with Frau Schrieber of knowing more or less
English; but this evening the judge is out of town. The enterprising
professor lies in wait for him, however, and at 5.30 on Monday morning,
while we are dressing, an invasion of our bed-chamber is made by the
professor, the jolly-looking and portly provost-judge, a Slavonian
lieutenant of artillery, and a druggist friend of the others. The provost-
judge and the lieutenant actually own bicycles and ride them, the only
representatives of the wheel in Neusatz and Peterwardein, and the judge
is " very angry " - as he expresses it - that Monday is court day, and to-day
an unusually busy one, for he would be most happy to wheel with us to
Belgrade.

The lieutenant fetches his wheel and accompanies us to the next village.
Peterwardein is a strongly fortified place, and, as a poition commanding
the Danube so completely, is furnished with thirty guns of large calibre,
a battery certainly not to be despised when posted on a position so
commanding as the hill on which Peterwardein fortress is built. As the
editor and others at Eszek, so here the professor, the judge, and the
druggist unite in a friendly protest against my attempt to wheel through
Asia, and more especially through China, "for everybody knows it is
quite dangerous," they say. These people cannot possibly understand why
it is that an Englishman or American, knowing of danger beforehand, will
still venture ahead; and when, in reply to their questions, I modestly
announce my intention of going ahead, notwithstanding possible danger
and probable difficulties, they each, in turn, shake my hand as though
reluctantly resigning me to a reckless determination, and the judge,
acting as spokesman, and echoing and interpreting the sentiments of his
companions, exclaims, "England and America forever! it is ze grandest
peeples on ze world!" The lieutenant, when questioned on the subject by
the judge and the professor, simply shrugs his shoulders and says nothing,
as becomes a man whose first duty is to cultivate a supreme contempt for
danger in all its forms.

They all accompany us outside the city gates, when, after mutual farewells
and assurances of good-will, we mount and wheel away down the Danube,
the lieutenant's big mastiff trotting soberly alongside his master, while
Igali, sometimes in and sometimes out of sight behind, brings up the
rear. After the lieutenant leaves us we have to trundle our weary way
up the steep gradients of the Fruskagora Mountains for a number of
kilometres. For Igali it is quite an adventurous morning. Ere we had
left the shadows of Peterwardein fortress he upset while wheeling beneath
some overhanging mulberry-boughs that threatened destruction to his
jockey-cap; soon after parting company with the lieutenant he gets into
an altercation with a gang of gypsies about being the cause of their
horses breaking loose from their picket-ropes and stampeding, and then
making uncivil comments upon the circumstance; an hour after this he
overturns again and breaks a pedal, and when we dismount at Indjia, for
our noontide halt, he discovers that his saddle-spring has snapped in
the middle. As he ruefully surveys the breakage caused by the roughness
of the Fruskagora roads, and sends out to scour the village for a mechanic
capable of undertaking the repairs, he eyes my Columbia wistfully, and
asks me for the address where one like it can be obtained. The blacksmith
is not prepared to mend the spring, although he makes a good job of the
pedal, and it takes a carpenter and his assistant from 1.30 to 4.30 P.M.
to manufacture a grooved piece of wood to fit between the spring and
backbone so that he can ride with me to Belgrade. It would have been a
fifteen-minute task for a Yankee carpenter. We have been traversing a
spur of the Fruskagora Mountains all the morning, and our progress has
been slow. The roads through here are mainly of the natural soil, and
correspondingly bad; but the glorious views of the Danube, with its
alternating wealth of green woods and greener cultivated areas, fully
recompense for the extra toil. Prune-orchards, the trees weighed down
with fruit yet green, clothe the hill-sides with their luxuriance; indeed,
the whole broad, rich valley of the Danube seems nodding and smiling in
the consciousness of overflowing plenty; for days we have traversed roads
leading through vineyards and orchards, and broad areas with promising-looking
grain-crops.

It is but thirty kilometres from Indjia to Semlin, on the riverbank
opposite Belgrade, and since leaving the Fruskagora Mountains the country
has been a level plain, and the roads fairly smooth. But Igali has
naturally become doubly cautious since his succession of misadventures
this morning, and as, while waiting for him to overtake me, I recline
beneath the mulberry-trees near the village of Batainitz and survey the
blue mountains of Servia looming up to the southward through the evening
haze, he rides up and proposes Batainitz as our halting-place for the
night, adding persuasively, "There will be no ferry-boat across to
Belgrade to-night, and we can easily catch the first boat in the morning."
I reluctantly agree, though advocating going on to Semlin this evening.
While our supper is being prepared we are taken in hand by the leading
merchant of the village and "turned loose" in an orchard of small
fruits and early pears, and from thence conducted to a large gypsy
encampment in the outskirts of the village, where, in acknowledgment of
the honor of our visit-and a few kreuzers by way of supplement - the
"flower of the camp," a blooming damsel, about the shade of a total
eclipse, kisses the backs of our hands, and the men play a strumming
monotone with sticks and an inverted wooden trough, while the women dance
in a most lively and not ungraceful manner. These gypsy bands are a happy
crowd of vagabonds, looking as though they had never a single care in
all the world; the men wear long, flowing hair, and to the ordinary
costume of the peasant is added many a gewgaw, worn with a careless
jaunty grace that fails not to carry with it a certain charm in spite
of unkempt locks and dirty faces. The women wear a minimum of clothes
and a profusion of beads and trinkets, and the children go stark naked
or partly dressed.

Unmistakable evidence that one is approaching the Orient appears in the
semi-Oriental costumes. of the peasantry and roving gypsy bands, as we
gradually near the Servian capital. An Oriental costume in Eszek is
sufficiently exceptional to be a novelty, and so it is until one gets
south of Peterwardein, when the national costumes of Slavonia and Croatia
are gradually merged into the tasselled fez, the many-folded waistband,
and the loose, flowing pantaloons of Eastern lands. Here at Batainitz
the feet are encased in rude raw-hide moccasins, bound on with leathern
thongs, and the ankle and calf are bandaged with many folds of heavy red
material, also similarly bound. The scene around our gasthaus, after our
arrival, resembles a popular meeting; for, although a few of the villagers
have been to Belgrade and seen a bicycle, it is only within the last six
months that Belgrade itself has boasted one, and the great majority of
the Batainitz people have simply heard enough about them to whet their
curiosity for a closer acquaintance. More-over, from the interest taken
in my tour at Belgrade on account of the bicycle's recent introduction
in that capital, these villagers, but a dozen kilometres away, have heard
more of my journey than people in villages farther north, and their
curiosity is roused in proportion.

We are astir by five o'clock next morning; but the same curious crowd
is making the stone corridors of the rambling old gasthaus impassable,
and filling the space in front, gazing curiously at us, and commenting
on our appearance whenever we happen to become visible, while waiting
with commendable patience to obtain a glimpse of our wonderful machines.
They are a motley, and withal a ragged assembly; old women devoutly cross
themselves as, after a slight repast of bread and milk, we sally forth
with our wheels, prepared to start; and the spontaneous murmur of
admiration which breaks forth as we mount becomes louder and more
pronounced as I turn in the saddle and doff my helmet in deference to
the homage paid us by hearts which are none the less warm because hidden
beneath the rags of honest poverty and semi-civilization. It takes but
little to win the hearts of these rude, unsophisticated people. A two
hours' ride from Batainitz, over level and reasonably smooth roads,
brings us into Semlin, quite an important Slavonian city on the Danube,
nearly opposite Belgrade, which is on the same side, but separated from
it by a large tributary called the Save. Ferry-boats ply regularly between
the two cities, and, after an hour spent in hunting up different officials
to gain permission for Igali to cross over into Servian territory without
having a regular traveller's passport, we escape from the madding crowds
of Semlinites by boarding the ferry-boat, and ten minutes later are
exchanging signals! with three Servian wheelmen, who have come down to
the landing in full uniform to meet and welcome us to Belgrade. Many
readers will doubtless be as surprised as I was to learn that at Belgrade,
the capital of the little Kingdom of Servia, independent only since the
Treaty of Berlin, a bicycle club was organized in January, 1885, and
that now, in June of the same year, they have a promising club of thirty
members, twelve of whom are riders owning their own wheels. Their club
is named, in French, La Societe Velocipedique Serbe; in the Servian
language it is unpronounceable to an Anglo-Saxon, and printable only
with Slav type. The president, Milorade M. Nicolitch Terzibachitch, is
the Cyclists' Touring Club Consul for Servia, and is the southeastern
picket of that organization, their club being the extreme 'cycle outpost
in this direction. Our approach has been announced beforehand, and the
club has thoughtfully "seen" the Servian authorities, and so far
smoothed the way for our entrance into their country that the officials
do not even make a pretence of examining my passport or packages - an
almost unprecedented occurrence, I should say, since they are more
particular about passports here than perhaps in any other European
country, save Russia and Turkey. Here at Belgrade I am to part company
with Igali, who, by the way, has applied for, and just received, his
certificate of appointment to the Cyclists' Touring Club Consulship of
Duna Szekeso and Mohacs, an honor of which he feels quite proud. True,
there is no other 'cycler in his whole district, and hardly likely to
be for some time to corne; but I can heartily recommend him to any
wandering wheelman happening down the Danube Valley on a tour; he knows
the best wine-cellars in all the country round, and, besides being an
agreeable and accommodating road companion, will prove a salutary check
upon the headlong career of anyone disposed to over-exertion. I am not
yet to be abandoned entirely to my own resources, however; these hospitable
Servian wheelmen couldn't think of such a thing. I am to remain over as
their guest till to-morrow afternoon, when Mr. Douchan Popovitz, the
best rider in Belgrade, is delegated to escort me through Servia to the
Bulgarian frontier. When I get there I shall not be much astonished to
see a Bulgarian wheelman offer to escort me to Roumelia, and so on clear
to Constantinople; for I certainly never expected to find so jolly and
enthusiastic a company of 'cyclers in this corner of the world.

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