"SamuelButler-CambridgePieces" - читать интересную книгу автора (Butler Samuel)

and the map of Europe before them, perhaps the following sketch of
what can be effected with such money and in such time, may not come
amiss to those, who, like ourselves a couple of years ago, are in
doubt how to enjoy themselves most effectually after a term's hard
reading.

To some, probably, the tour we decided upon may seem too hurried,
and the fatigue too great for too little profit; still even to these
it may happen that a portion of the following pages may be useful.
Indeed, the tour was scarcely conceived at first in its full extent,
originally we had intended devoting ourselves entirely to the French
architecture of Normandy and Brittany. Then we grew ambitious, and
stretched our imaginations to Paris. Then the longing for a snowy
mountain waxed, and the love of French Gothic waned, and we
determined to explore the French Alps. Then we thought that we must
just step over them and take a peep into Italy, and so, disdaining
to return by the road we had already travelled, we would cut off the
north-west corner of Italy, and cross the Alps again into
Switzerland, where, of course, we must see the cream of what was to
be seen; and then thinking it possible that our three weeks and our
five-and-twenty pounds might be looking foolish, we would return,
via Strasburg to Paris, and so to Cambridge. This plan we
eventually carried into execution, spending not a penny more money,
nor an hour's more time; and, despite the declarations which met us
on all sides that we could never achieve anything like all we had
intended, I hope to be able to show how we did achieve it, and how
anyone else may do the like if he has a mind. A person with a good
deal of energy might do much more than this; we ourselves had at one
time entertained thoughts of going to Rome for two days, and thence
to Naples, walking over the Monte St. Angelo from Castellamare to
Amalfi (which for my own part I cherish with fond affection, as
being far the most lovely thing that I have ever seen), and then
returning as with a Nunc Dimittis, and I still think it would have
been very possible; but, on the whole, such a journey would not have
been so well, for the long tedious road between Marseilles and Paris
would have twice been traversed by us, to say nothing of the sea
journey between Marseilles and Civita Vecchia. However, no more of
what might have been, let us proceed to what was.

If on Tuesday, June 9 [i.e. 1857], you leave London Bridge at six
o'clock in the morning, you will get (via Newhaven) to Dieppe at
fifteen minutes past three. If on landing you go to the Hotel
Victoria, you will find good accommodation and a table d'hote at
five o'clock; you can then go and admire the town, which will not be
worth admiring, but which will fill you with pleasure on account of
the novelty and freshness of everything you meet; whether it is the
old bonnet-less, short-petticoated women walking arm and arm with
their grandsons, whether the church with its quaint sculpture of the
Entombment of our Lord, and the sad votive candles ever guttering in
front of it, or whether the plain evidence that meets one at every