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the uncommercial traveller-第43节

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sixpence); condescend a little; as they drowsily bide or recall

their turn for chasing the ebbing Neptune on the ribbed sea…sand。

From Messrs。 Hunt and Roskell's; the jewellers; all things are

absent but the precious stones; and the gold and silver; and the

soldierly pensioner at the door with his decorated breast。  I might

stand night and day for a month to come; in Saville…row; with my

tongue out; yet not find a doctor to look at it for love or money。

The dentists' instruments are rusting in their drawers; and their

horrible cool parlours; where people pretend to read the Every…Day

Book and not to be afraid; are doing penance for their grimness in

white sheets。  The light…weight of shrewd appearance; with one eye

always shut up; as if he were eating a sharp gooseberry in all

seasons; who usually stands at the gateway of the livery…stables on

very little legs under a very large waistcoat; has gone to

Doncaster。  Of such undesigning aspect is his guileless yard now;

with its gravel and scarlet beans; and the yellow Break housed

under a glass roof in a corner; that I almost believe I could not

be taken in there; if I tried。  In the places of business of the

great tailors; the cheval…glasses are dim and dusty for lack of

being looked into。  Ranges of brown paper coat and waistcoat bodies

look as funereal as if they were the hatchments of the customers

with whose names they are inscribed; the measuring tapes hang idle

on the wall; the order…taker; left on the hopeless chance of some

one looking in; yawns in the last extremity over the book of

patterns; as if he were trying to read that entertaining library。

The hotels in Brook…street have no one in them; and the staffs of

servants stare disconsolately for next season out of all the

windows。  The very man who goes about like an erect Turtle; between

two boards recommendatory of the Sixteen Shilling Trousers; is

aware of himself as a hollow mockery; and eats filberts while he

leans his hinder shell against a wall。



Among these tranquillising objects; it is my delight to walk and

meditate。  Soothed by the repose around me; I wander insensibly to

considerable distances; and guide myself back by the stars。  Thus;

I enjoy the contrast of a few still partially inhabited and busy

spots where all the lights are not fled; where all the garlands are

not dead; whence all but I have not departed。  Then; does it appear

to me that in this age three things are clamorously required of Man

in the miscellaneous thoroughfares of the metropolis。  Firstly;

that he have his boots cleaned。  Secondly; that he eat a penny ice。

Thirdly; that he get himself photographed。  Then do I speculate;

What have those seam…worn artists been who stand at the photograph

doors in Greek caps; sample in hand; and mysteriously salute the

public … the female public with a pressing tenderness … to come in

and be 'took'?  What did they do with their greasy blandishments;

before the era of cheap photography?  Of what class were their

previous victims; and how victimised?  And how did they get; and

how did they pay for; that large collection of likenesses; all

purporting to have been taken inside; with the taking of none of

which had that establishment any more to do than with the taking of

Delhi?



But; these are small oases; and I am soon back again in

metropolitan Arcadia。  It is my impression that much of its serene

and peaceful character is attributable to the absence of customary

Talk。  How do I know but there may be subtle influences in Talk; to

vex the souls of men who don't hear it?  How do I know but that

Talk; five; ten; twenty miles off; may get into the air and

disagree with me?  If I rise from my bed; vaguely troubled and

wearied and sick of my life; in the session of Parliament; who

shall say that my noble friend; my right reverend friend; my right

honourable friend; my honourable friend; my honourable and learned

friend; or my honourable and gallant friend; may not be responsible

for that effect upon my nervous system?  Too much Ozone in the air;

I am informed and fully believe (though I have no idea what it is);

would affect me in a marvellously disagreeable way; why may not too

much Talk?  I don't see or hear the Ozone; I don't see or hear the

Talk。  And there is so much Talk; so much too much; such loud cry;

and such scant supply of wool; such a deal of fleecing; and so

little fleece!  Hence; in the Arcadian season; I find it a

delicious triumph to walk down to deserted Westminster; and see the

Courts shut up; to walk a little further and see the Two Houses

shut up; to stand in the Abbey Yard; like the New Zealander of the

grand English History (concerning which unfortunate man; a whole

rookery of mares' nests is generally being discovered); and gloat

upon the ruins of Talk。  Returning to my primitive solitude and

lying down to sleep; my grateful heart expands with the

consciousness that there is no adjourned Debate; no ministerial

explanation; nobody to give notice of intention to ask the noble

Lord at the head of her Majesty's Government five…and…twenty

bootless questions in one; no term time with legal argument; no

Nisi Prius with eloquent appeal to British Jury; that the air will

to…morrow; and to…morrow; and to…morrow; remain untroubled by this

superabundant generating of Talk。  In a minor degree it is a

delicious triumph to me to go into the club; and see the carpets

up; and the Bores and the other dust dispersed to the four winds。

Again; New Zealander…like; I stand on the cold hearth; and say in

the solitude; 'Here I watched Bore A 1; with voice always

mysteriously low and head always mysteriously drooped; whispering

political secrets into the ears of Adam's confiding children。

Accursed be his memory for ever and a day!'



But; I have all this time been coming to the point; that the happy

nature of my retirement is most sweetly expressed in its being the

abode of Love。  It is; as it were; an inexpensive Agapemone:

nobody's speculation:  everybody's profit。  The one great result of

the resumption of primitive habits; and (convertible terms) the not

having much to do; is; the abounding of Love。



The Klem species are incapable of the softer emotions; probably; in

that low nomadic race; the softer emotions have all degenerated

into flue。  But; with this exception; all the sharers of my retreat

make love。



I have mentioned Saville…row。  We all know the Doctor's servant。

We all know what a respectable man he is; what a hard dry man; what

a firm man; what a confidential man:  how he lets us into the

waiting…room; like a man who knows minutely what is the matter with

us; but from whom the rack should not wring the secret。  In the

prosaic 〃season;〃 he has distinctly the appearance of a man

conscious of money in the savings bank; and taking his stand on his

respectability with both feet。  At that time it is as impossible to

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 

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