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