the uncommercial traveller-第36章

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associate　him　with　relaxation；　or　any　human　weakness；　as　it　is　to

meet　his　eye　without　feeling　guilty　of　indisposition。　　In　the　blest

Arcadian　time；　how　changed！　　I　have　seen　him；　in　a　pepper…and…salt

jacket　…　jacket　…　and　drab　trousers；　with　his　arm　round　the　waist

of　a　bootmaker's　housemaid；　smiling　in　open　day。　　I　have　seen　him

at　the　pump　by　the　Albany；　unsolicitedly　pumping　for　two　fair　young

creatures；　whose　figures　as　they　bent　over　their　cans；　were　…　if　I

may　be　allowed　an　original　expression　…　a　model　for　the　sculptor。

I　have　seen　him　trying　the　piano　in　the　Doctor's　drawing…room　with

his　forefinger；　and　have　heard　him　humming　tunes　in　praise　of

lovely　woman。　　I　have　seen　him　seated　on　a　fire…engine；　and　going

（obviously　in　search　of　excitement）　to　a　fire。　　I　saw　him；　one

moonlight　evening　when　the　peace　and　purity　of　our　Arcadian　west

were　at　their　height；　polk　with　the　lovely　daughter　of　a　cleaner　of

gloves；　from　the　door…steps　of　his　own　residence；　across　Saville…

row；　round　by　Clifford…street　and　Old　Burlington…street；　back　to

Burlington…gardens。　　Is　this　the　Golden　Age　revived；　or　Iron

London？



The　Dentist's　servant。　　Is　that　man　no　mystery　to　us；　no　type　of

invisible　power？　　The　tremendous　individual　knows　（who　else　does？）

what　is　done　with　the　extracted　teeth；　he　knows　what　goes　on　in　the

little　room　where　something　is　always　being　washed　or　filed；　he

knows　what　warm　spicy　infusion　is　put　into　the　comfortable　tumbler

from　which　we　rinse　our　wounded　mouth；　with　a　gap　in　it　that　feels

a　foot　wide；　he　knows　whether　the　thing　we　spit　into　is　a　fixture

communicating　with　the　Thames；　or　could　be　cleared　away　for　a

dance；　he　sees　the　horrible　parlour　where　there　are　no　patients　in

it；　and　he　could　reveal；　if　he　would；　what　becomes　of　the　Every…Day

Book　then。　　The　conviction　of　my　coward　conscience　when　I　see　that

man　in　a　professional　light；　is；　that　he　knows　all　the　statistics

of　my　teeth　and　gums；　my　double　teeth；　my　single　teeth；　my　stopped

teeth；　and　my　sound。　　In　this　Arcadian　rest；　I　am　fearless　of　him

as　of　a　harmless；　powerless　creature　in　a　Scotch　cap；　who　adores　a

young　lady　in　a　voluminous　crinoline；　at　a　neighbouring　billiard…

room；　and　whose　passion　would　be　uninfluenced　if　every　one　of　her

teeth　were　false。　　They　may　be。　　He　takes　them　all　on　trust。



In　secluded　corners　of　the　place　of　my　seclusion；　there　are　little

shops　withdrawn　from　public　curiosity；　and　never　two　together；

where　servants'　perquisites　are　bought。　　The　cook　may　dispose　of

grease　at　these　modest　and　convenient　marts；　the　butler；　of

bottles；　the　valet　and　lady's　maid；　of　clothes；　most　servants；

indeed；　of　most　things　they　may　happen　to　lay　hold　of。　　I　have　been

told　that　in　sterner　times　loving　correspondence；　otherwise

interdicted；　may　be　maintained　by　letter　through　the　agency　of　some

of　these　useful　establishments。　　In　the　Arcadian　autumn；　no　such

device　is　necessary。　　Everybody　loves；　and　openly　and　blamelessly

loves。　　My　landlord's　young　man　loves　the　whole　of　one　side　of　the

way　of　Old　Bond…street；　and　is　beloved　several　doors　up　New　Bond…

street　besides。　　I　never　look　out　of　window　but　I　see　kissing　of

hands　going　on　all　around　me。　　It　is　the　morning　custom　to　glide

from　shop　to　shop　and　exchange　tender　sentiments；　it　is　the　evening

custom　for　couples　to　stand　hand　in　hand　at　house　doors；　or　roam；

linked　in　that　flowery　manner；　through　the　unpeopled　streets。

There　is　nothing　else　to　do　but　love；　and　what　there　is　to　do；　is

done。



In　unison　with　this　pursuit；　a　chaste　simplicity　obtains　in　the

domestic　habits　of　Arcadia。　　Its　few　scattered　people　dine　early；

live　moderately；　sup　socially；　and　sleep　soundly。　　It　is　rumoured

that　the　Beadles　of　the　Arcade；　from　being　the　mortal　enemies　of

boys；　have　signed　with　tears　an　address　to　Lord　Shaftesbury；　and

subscribed　to　a　ragged　school。　　No　wonder！　　For；　they　might　turn

their　heavy　maces　into　crooks　and　tend　sheep　in　the　Arcade；　to　the

purling　of　the　water…carts　as　they　give　the　thirsty　streets　much

more　to　drink　than　they　can　carry。



A　happy　Golden　Age；　and　a　serene　tranquillity。　　Charming　picture；

but　it　will　fade。　　The　iron　age　will　return；　London　will　come　back

to　town；　if　I　show　my　tongue　then　in　Saville…row　for　half　a　minute

I　shall　be　prescribed　for；　the　Doctor's　man　and　the　Dentist's　man

will　then　pretend　that　these　days　of　unprofessional　innocence　never

existed。　　Where　Mr。　and　Mrs。　Klem　and　their　bed　will　be　at　that

time；　passes　human　knowledge；　but　my　hatter　hermitage　will　then

know　them　no　more；　nor　will　it　then　know　me。　　The　desk　at　which　I

have　written　these　meditations　will　retributively　assist　at　the

making　out　of　my　account；　and　the　wheels　of　gorgeous　carriages　and

the　hoofs　of　high…stepping　horses　will　crush　the　silence　out　of

Bond…street　…　will　grind　Arcadia　away；　and　give　it　to　the　elements

in　granite　powder。







CHAPTER　XVII　…　THE　ITALIAN　PRISONER







The　rising　of　the　Italian　people　from　under　their　unutterable

wrongs；　and　the　tardy　burst　of　day　upon　them　after　the　long　long

night　of　oppression　that　has　darkened　their　beautiful　country；　have

naturally　caused　my　mind　to　dwell　often　of　late　on　my　own　small

wanderings　in　Italy。　　Connected　with　them；　is　a　curious　little

drama；　in　which　the　character　I　myself　sustained　was　so　very

subordinate　that　I　may　relate　its　story　without　any　fear　of　being

suspected　of　self…display。　　It　is　strictly　a　true　story。



I　am　newly　arrived　one　summer　evening；　in　a　certain　small　town　on

the　Mediterranean。　　I　have　had　my　dinner　at　the　inn；　and　I　and　the

mosquitoes　are　coming　out　into　the　streets　together。　　It　is　far

from　Naples；　but　a　bright；　brown；　plump　little　woman…servant　at　the

inn；　is　a　Neapolitan；　and　is　so　vivaciously　expert　in　panto…mimic

action；　that　in　the　single　moment　of　answering　my　request　to　have　a

pair　of　shoes　cleaned　which　I　have　left　up…stairs；　she　plies

imaginary　brushes；　and　goes　completely　through　the　motions　of

polishing　the　shoes　up；　and　laying　them　at　my　feet。　　I　smile　at　the

brisk　little　woman　in　perfect　satisfaction　with　her　briskness；　and

the　brisk　little　woman；　amiably　pleased　with　me　because　I　am

pleased　with　her；　claps　her　hands　and　laughs　delightfully。　　We　are

in　the　inn　yard。　　As　the　little　woman's　bright　eyes　sparkle　on　the

cigarette　I　am　smoking；　I　make　bold　to　offer　her　one；　she　accepts

it　none　the　less　merrily；　because　I　touch　a　most　charming　little

dimple　in　her　fat　cheek；　with　its　light　paper　end。　　Glancing　up　at

the　many　green　lattices　to　assure　herself　that　the　mistress　is　not

looking　on；　the　little　woman　then　puts　her　two　little　dimple　arms

a…kimbo；　and　stands　on　tiptoe　to　light　her　cigarette　at　mine。　　'And

now；　dear　little　sir；'　says　she；　puffing　out　smoke　in　a　most

innocent　and　cherubic　manner；　'keep　quite　straight　on；　take　the

first　to　the　right　and　probably　you　will　see　him　standing　at　his

door。'



I　gave　a　commission　to　'him；'　and　I　have　been　inquiring　about　him。

I　have　carried　the　commission　about　Italy　several　months。　　Before　I

left　England；　there　came　to　me　one　night　a　certain　generous　and

gentle　English　nobleman　（he　is　dead　in　these　days　when　I　relate　the

story；　and　exiles　have　lost　their　best　British　friend）；　with　this

request：　　'Whenever　you　come　to　such　a　town；　will　you　seek　out　one

Giovanni　Carlavero；　who　keeps　a　little　wine…shop　there；　mention　my

name　to　him　suddenly；　and　observe　how　it　affects　him？'　　I　accepted

the　trust；　and　am　on　my　way　to　discharge　it。



The　sirocco　has　been　blowing　all　day；　and　it　is　a　hot　unwholesome

evening　with　no　cool　sea…breeze。　　Mosquitoes　and　fire…flies　are

lively　enough；　but　most　other　creatures　are　faint。　　The　coquettish

airs　of　pretty　young　women　in　the　tiniest　and　wickedest　of　dolls'

straw　hats；　who　lean　out　at　opened　lattice　blinds；　are　almost　the

only　airs　stirring。　　Very　ugly　and　haggard　old　women　with　distaffs；

and　with　a　grey　tow　upon　them　that　looks　as　if　they　were　spinning

out　their　own　hair　（I　suppose　they　were　once　pretty；　too；　but　it　is

very　difficult　to　believe　so）；　sit　on　the　footway　leaning　against

house　walls。　　Everybody　who　has　come　for　water　to　the　fountain；

stays　there；　and　seems　incapable　of　any　such　energetic　idea　as

going　home。　　Vespers　are　over；　though　not　so　long　but　that　I　can

smell　the　heavy　resinous　incense　as　I　pass　the　church。　　No　man

seems　to　be　at　work；　save　the　coppersmith。　　In　an　Italian　town　he

is　always　at　work；　and　always　thumping　in　the　deadliest　manner。



I　keep　straight　on；　and　come　in　due　time　to　the　first　on　the　right：

a　narrow　dull　street；　where　I　see　a　well…favoured　man　of　good

stature　and　military　bearing；　in　a　great　cloak；　standing　at　a　door。

Drawing　nearer　to　this　threshold；　I　see　it　is　the　threshold　of　a

small　wine…shop；　and　I　can　just　make　out；　in　the　dim　light；　the

inscription　that　it　is　kept　by　Giovanni　Carlavero。



I　touch　my　hat　to　the　figure　in　the　cloak；　and　pass　in；　and　draw　a

stool　to　a　little　table。　　The　lamp　（just　such　another　as　they　dig

out　of　Pompeii）　is　lighted；　but　the　place　is　empty。　　The　figure　in

the　cloak　has　followed　me　in；　and　stands　before　me。



'The　master？'



'At　your　service；　sir。'



'Please　to　give　me　a　glass　of　the　wine　of　the　country。'



He　turns　to　a　little　counter；　to　get　it。　　As　his　striking　face　is

pale；　and　his　action　is　evidently　that　of　an　enfeebled　man；　I

remark　that　I　fear　he　has　been　ill。　　It　is　not　much；　he　courteously

and　gravely　answers；　though　bad　while　it　lasts：　　the　fever。



As　he　sets　the　wine　on　the　little　table；　to　his　manifest　surprise　I

lay　my　hand　on　the　back　of　his；　look　him　in　the　face；　and　say　in　a

low　voice：　　'I　am　an　Englishman；　and　you　are　acquainted　with　a

friend　of　mine。　　Do　you　recollect　…　？'　and　I　mentioned　the　name　of

my　generous　countryman。



Instantly；　he　utters　a　loud　cry；　bursts　into　tears；　and　falls　on

his　knees　at　my　feet；　clasping　my　legs　in　both　his　arms　and　bowing

his　head　to　the　ground。



Some　years　ago；　this　man　at　my　feet；　whose　over…fraught　heart　is

heaving　as　if　it　would　burst　from　his　breast；　and　whose　tears　are

wet　upon　the　dress　I　wear；　was　a　galley…slave　in　the　North　of

Italy。　　He　was　a　political　offender；　having　been　concerned　in　the

then　last　rising；　and　was　sentenced　to　imprisonment　for　life。　　That

he　would　have　died　in　his　chains；　is　certain；　but　for　the

circumstance　that　the　Englishman　happened　to　visit　his　prison。



It　was　one　of　the　vile　old　prisons　of　Italy；　and　a　part　of　it　was

below　the　waters　of　the　harbour。　　The　place　of　his　confinement　was

an　arched　under…ground　and　under…water　gallery；　with　a　grill…gate

at　the　entrance；　through　which　it　received　such　light　and　air　as　it

got。　　Its　condition　was　insufferably　foul；　and　a　stranger　could

hardly　breathe　in　it；　or　see　in　it　with　the　aid　of　a　torch。　　At　the

upper　end　of　this　dungeon；　and　consequently　in　the　worst　position；

as　being