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diff --git a/.gitattributes b/.gitattributes new file mode 100644 index 0000000..6833f05 --- /dev/null +++ b/.gitattributes @@ -0,0 +1,3 @@ +* text=auto +*.txt text +*.md text diff --git a/38894-8.txt b/38894-8.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..f0c566c --- /dev/null +++ b/38894-8.txt @@ -0,0 +1,5190 @@ +The Project Gutenberg EBook of Vagaries, by Axel Munthe + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: Vagaries + +Author: Axel Munthe + +Release Date: February 15, 2012 [EBook #38894] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1 + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK VAGARIES *** + + + + +Produced by Barbara Watson, Ross Cooling and the Online +Distributed Proofreading Canada Team at +http://www.pgdpcanada.net (This file was produced from +images generously made available by The Internet +Archive/Canadian Libraries) + + + + + + + + + + VAGARIES + + + By AXEL MUNTHE + AUTHOR OF 'LETTERS FROM A MOURNING CITY' + + + + LONDON + JOHN MURRAY, ALBEMARLE STREET + 1898 + + + + + INSTEAD OF A PREFACE + + +He who has written these pages is no author; his life belongs to +reality, and does not leave him any peace for indulging in fiction, and, +besides, he has for nearly twenty years limited his best thoughts and +efforts to that special authorship which has for its only public +apothecaries. He thought it very easy and refreshing to write this +little book. The only difficulty about it has been to find a title, for +it turned out that, when confronted with this problem, neither the +writer nor any of the friends he consulted could say what stuff it was +that the book was made of--was it essays, stories, or what? Essays is +much too important a word for me to use, and stories it certainly is +not, for I cannot remember having ever tried to invent anything. + +Besides, isn't it so that in a story something always happens--and here, +as a rule, very little seems to me to happen. I do not know, but can it +be that it is life itself which "happens" in these pages, life as seen +by an individual who can but try to be as the Immortal Gods created him, +since conventionality long ago has given up in despair all hope of +licking him into shape? + +Now I want to tell you what made me publish this book--what made me +write it cannot interest you. One day I found sitting in my +consulting-room a young lady with a huge parcel on her knee. I asked her +what I could do for her, and she began by telling me a long tale of woe +about herself. She said that nothing interested her, nothing amused +her, she was bored to death by everything and everybody. She could get +anything she wished to have, she could go anywhere she liked, but she +did not wish for anything, she did not want to go anywhere. + +Her life was passed in idle luxury, useless to herself and to everybody +else, said she. Her parents had ended by dragging her from one physician +to another: one had prescribed Egypt, where they had spent the whole +winter; another Cannes, where they had bought a big villa; a third India +and Japan, which they had visited in their fine yacht. "But you are the +only doctor who has done me any good," she said. "I have felt more +happiness during this past week than I have done for years. I owe it to +you, and I have come to thank you for it." She began rapidly to unfasten +her parcel, and I stared at her in amazement while she produced from it +one big doll after another, and quite unceremoniously placed them in a +row on my writing-table amongst all my books and papers. There were +twelve dolls in all, and you never saw such dolls. Some of them were +dressed in well-fitting tailor-made jackets and skirts; some were +evidently off for a yachting trip in blue serge suits and sailor hats; +some wore smart silk dresses covered with lace and frills, and hats +trimmed with huge ostrich feathers; and some looked as if they had only +just returned from the Queen's Drawing-room. + +I am accustomed to have queer people in my consulting-room, and I +thought I noticed something glistening in her eyes. "You see, Doctor," +said she with uncertain voice, "I never thought I could be of any good +to anybody. I used to send money to charities at home, but all I did +was to write out a cheque, and I cannot say I ever felt the slightest +satisfaction in doing it. The other day I happened to come across that +article about Toys in an old _Blackwood's Magazine_,[1] and since then I +have been working from morning till evening to dress up all these dolls +for the poor children you spoke about. I have done it all by myself, and +I have felt so strangely happy the whole time." + +And I, who had forgotten all about this little escapade from the toil of +my everyday life, I looked at the sweet face smiling through the tears, +I looked at the long row of dolls who stared approvingly at me from +among all my medical paraphernalia on the writing-table. And for the +first and last time in my life did I feel the ineffable joy of literary +triumph, for the first and last time in my life did I feel that mystic +power of being able to move others. + +A smart carriage was waiting for her at the door, but we sent it away, +and I put the kind donor and some of her dolls in a cab, and I remember +we went to see Petruccio. I could see by her shyness that it was the +first time she had entered the home of the poor. She gave each child a +magnificent doll, and she blushed with delight when she saw the little +sisters' beaming faces and heard the poor mother's "God bless you!" +Hardly had a week passed before she brought me another dozen of dolls, +and twelve more sick and destitute children forgot all about their +misery. At Christmas I got up a big festa at the Jardin-des-Plantes +quarter, where most of the poor Italians live, and the Christmas-tree +was loaded with dolls of all sizes and descriptions. She went on +bringing me more and more dolls, and there came a time when I did not +know what to do with them, for I had more dolls than patients. Every +chair and table in my rooms was occupied by a doll, and people asked me +to show them "the dear children," and when I told them I was a bachelor +and had not got any they would not believe me. To tell you the truth, +when spring came I sent the lady to St. Moritz for change of air. I have +never seen her since, but should she come across this book she may know +that it was she and her dolls who decided its publication, and it is in +her honour I have given the Toy article the first place. + +There is nothing like success. Some time ago I received a letter from a +man I do not know, who wrote me that he was the mayor of a large town. +He said that after having read a little paper called "For those who love +Music"[2] he had revoked the order which forbade organ-grinders to play +in the streets of his town, and had told his children always to give the +old man a penny, for "perhaps it is Don Gaetano!" I admit I was +immensely flattered by this, and in honour of the kind mayor I have +placed his paper second. + +But is this to be the end of my literary fame, or will any other +laurel-leaf mark some hitherto unpublished page of this volume? What +about "Blackcock-shooting"? Will ever an English mother write to me that +she is teaching her son that he can grow up every inch a man without +having ever killed a half-tame pheasant or a grouse, or stealthily crept +up to murder a beautiful stag? + +I have not heard from the Germans in Capri yet, but when that letter +comes I believe my literary ambition will have reached its zenith, and +that I shall relapse into silence again. + + Rome, _Spring_ 1898. + +[Footnote 1: "Toys, from the Paris Horizon" was published in _Blackwood_ +several years ago.] + +[Footnote 2: This article was printed in _Murray's Magazine_ several +years ago.] + + + + + CONTENTS + + PAGE + + Toys 1 + + For those who love Music 24 + + Political Agitations in Capri 44 + + Menagerie 78 + + Italy in Paris 102 + + Blackcock-shooting 125 + + To ---- 158 + + Monsieur Alfredo 169 + + Mont Blanc, King of the Mountains 192 + + Raffaella 206 + + The Dogs in Capri, an interior 224 + + Zoology 253 + + Hypochondria 262 + + La Madonna del Buon Cammino 280 + + + + + VAGARIES + + TOYS + + FROM THE PARIS HORIZON + + +In Paris the New Year is awakened by the laughter of children, the dawn +of its first day glows in rosy joy on small round cheeks, and lit up by +the light from children's sparkling eyes, the curtain rises upon the +fairy world of toys. + +This world of toys is a faithful miniature of our own, the same +perpetual evolution, the same struggle for existence, goes on there as +here. Types rise and vanish just as with us; the strongest and +best-fitted individuals survive, defying time, whilst the weaker and +less gifted are supplanted and die out. + +To the former, for instance, belongs the doll, whose individual type +centuries may have modified, but whose idea is eternal, whose soul lives +on with the imperishable youth of the gods. The doll is thousands of +years old; it has been found in the graves of little Roman children, and +the archæologists of coming generations will find it amongst the remains +of our culture. The children of Pompeii and Herculaneum used to trundle +hoops just as you and I did when we were small, and who knows whether +the rocking-horse on which we rode as boys is not a lineal descendant of +that proud charger into whose wooden flanks the children of Francis I. +dug their heels. The drum is also inaccessible to the variation of time; +through centuries it has beaten the Christmas and New Year's day's +reveille in the nursery to the battles of the tin-soldiers, and it will +continue to beat as long as there are boys' arms to wield the +drum-sticks and grown-up people's tympanums to be deafened. The +tin-soldier views the future with calm; he will not lay down his arms +until the day of the general disarmament, and we are still a long way +from universal peace. Neither will the toy-sword disappear; it is the +nursery-symbol of the ineradicable vice of our race, the lust for +fighting. Foolscap-crowned and bell-ringing harlequins will also defy +time; they will exist in the toy-world as long as there are fools in our +world. Gold-laced knights with big swords at their sides, curly-locked +princesses with satin shoes on dainty feet, stalwart musketeers with top +boots and big moustachios--all are types which still hold their own +pretty well. The Japanese doll is as yet young, but a brilliant future +lies before her. + +Amongst the toy-people who are gradually diminishing may be mentioned +monks, hobgoblins, and kings--an evil omen for the matter of that. I +don't wish to make any one uneasy, but it is a fact that the demand for +kings has considerably decreased of late--my studies in toy-anthropology +do not allow me the slightest doubt on this subject. It is not for me to +try to explain the cause of this serious phenomenon--I understand well +that this topic is a painful one, and shall not persist. + +Hobgoblins--who in our world are growing more and more ill at ease since +the locomotives began to pant through the forests, and who have sought +and found a refuge in the toy-world, in picture-books, and +fairy-tales--they begin to decrease, even they; they do not leap any +longer with the same wild energy when they are let loose out of their +boxes, and they do not know how to inspire the same terrifying respect +as before. They are doomed to die; a few generations more and wet-nurses +and nursery-maids will be studying physics, and then there will be an +end to hobgoblins and Jack-in-the-boxes! For my part I shall regret +them. + +Our social life expresses itself even through toys, and the rising +generation writes the history of its civilisation in the children's +books. Our age is the age of scientific inquiry, and its sons have no +time for dreams; the generation which is growing up moves in a world of +thought totally different from ours. Nowadays Tom Thumb is left to take +care of himself in the trackless forest, and poor Robinson Crusoe, with +whom we kept such faithful company, is feeling more and more lonely on +his desert island with our common friend Friday and the patient goat +whose neck we so often patted in our dreams. Nowadays boy-thoughts +travel with Phileas Fogg _Round the World in Eighty Days_, or undertake +fearlessly a journey to the moon with carefully calculated pace of I +don't know how many miles in a second, and their knapsacks stuffed with +physical science. Nowadays a little future Edison sits meditating in +his nursery laboratory, trying to stun a fly beneath the bell of a +little air-pump, or he communicates with his little sister by means of a +lilliputian telephone--when we only knew how to besiege toy-fortresses +with pop-guns and arrange tin-soldiers' battles, limiting our scientific +inquiries to that bloodless vivisection which consisted in ripping up +the stomachs of all our dolls and pulling to pieces everything we came +across to find out what was inside. These scientific toys were almost +unknown some ten years ago,--these _jouets scientifiques_ which now rank +so high in toy-shops, and offer perhaps the greatest attraction for the +children of the present. _The tranquillity of parents and the education +of children_ is the device on these toys--yes, there is no doubt that +the children's instruction has been thought of, but their imagination, +what is to become of that, now that even Christmas presents give +lessons in chemistry and physics? And all this artificially increased +modern thirst for knowledge, does it not destroy the germ of romance +which was implanted in the child's mind? does it not drive away that +rosy poetry of dreamland which is the morning glow of the awakening +thought? Maybe I am wrong, but it sometimes seems to me that there is +less laughter in the nurseries now than before, that the children's +faces are growing more earnest. And if I am to be quite frank I must +confess that I fight rather shy of these modern toys, and have never +bought any of them for my little friends. + +The same claim for reality which has brought forward these scientific +toys is also shown in the multitude of political characters one comes +across in the toy-world--Bismarck, with his bloodshot eyes and three +tufts of hair; the "Zulu," the "Boer," etc. etc. The famous Tonquin +treasures have not yet been brought to light, but we have long ago made +acquaintance with the Tonquinese and his long nose like Mons. Jules +Ferry; and the recent trouble in the Balkan states resulted in last +year's novelty, _le cri de Bulgare_.[3] + +Do not, however, imagine that the _rôle_ of politics in the toy-world is +limited to this--it is far more extensive, far more important. I now +mean to dwell on this question for a moment or two, and wish to say a +few words concerning _the political agitations of the toy-world_. + +The political agitations of the toy-world--a weighty, and hitherto +rather neglected topic--are like the swell, following the political +storms which agitate our own world. The horizon which here opens before +the eyes of the observer is, however, too vast to be framed in this +small paper. I therefore propose to limit the subject to _the French +toy-politics after l'année terrible_ (1870-71). + +The war between Germany and France is over long ago, but the toy-world +still resounds with the echo of the clash of arms of 1870; fighting +still continues with unabated ardour in the lilliputian world, where the +Bismarcks and the Moltkes of the German toy-manufactories each Christmas +fight new battles with _l'Article de Paris_. + +Victorious by virtue of their cheapness, the Germans advance. From the +Black Forest descend every Christmas hordes of wooden oxen, sheep, +horses, and dogs to measure themselves against the wares of the +wood-carvers of the Vosges (_St. Claude, etc. etc._). From Hamburg, +Nuremburg, and Berlin emigrate every winter thousands of dolls to +dispute the favour of the buyers with their French colleagues, and every +Christmas dense squadrons of spike-helmeted Prussian tin-soldiers cross +the Rhine to invade the toy-shops and nurseries of France. The struggle +is unequal, the competition too great. Siebenburgen and Tyrol furnish at +will a complete chemist's shop, a plentifully-supplied grocery store, or +a well-stocked farm with crops and implements, cows, sheep, and goats +grazing on the verdant pasture, for three francs fifty centimes. Hamburg +at the same moderate price offers a doll irreproachable to the +superficial observer, a doll with glass eyes, curly hair, and one change +of clothes, whilst the little Parisienne has already spent double that +sum on her toilet alone, and therefore cannot condescend to be yours for +less than half a louis d'or. Nuremburg mobilises a whole regiment of +tin-soldiers, baggage waggons, and artillery (Krupp model), included, +at the same price for which the toy-arsenals of Marais set on foot one +single battalion of "Chasseurs d'Afrique." + +The situation is gloomy--the French toys retire all along the line. + +But France will never be annihilated! And if the depths of a French +tin-soldier's soul were sounded, there would be found under the surface +of reserve exacted by discipline, the same glorious dreams of revenge +which inspired the volunteers raised by Gambetta from out of the earth. +The French tin-soldier looks towards the east; he knows that he is still +powerless to stop the invasion of the German toy-hordes--he is bound by +Article 4 in the Frankfort treaty of peace, but he bides his time.[4] + +And Revenge is near. This time also the signal for rising has been given +from Belleville, by a Gambetta of the toy-world. Some years ago a poor +workman at Belleville got a sudden idea, an idea that since then has +engendered an army which would realise the dream of eternal peace, and +keep in check the assembled troops of all Europe were it a question of +number alone. He sets on foot 5,000,000 soldiers a year. The origin of +these soldiers is humble, but so was Napoleon's. They spring from old +sardine boxes. Thrown away on the dust-heap, the sardine box is saved +from annihilation by the dust-man, who sells it to a rag-merchant in +Belleville or Buttes Chaumont, who in his turn disposes of it to a +specialist, who prepares it for the manufactories. The warriors are cut +out of the bottom of the box. The lid and sides are used for making +guns, railway-carriages, bicycles, etc. etc. All this may seem to you +very unimportant at first sight, but there is now in Belleville a large +manufactory founded on this idea of utilising old sardine boxes, which +occupies no less than two hundred workmen and produces every year over +two milliards of tin toys. I went there the other day, and no one +suspecting that I was a political correspondent, I was admitted without +difficulty to view the gigantic arsenal and its 5,000,000 warriors. The +poor workman out of whose head the fully-armed tin-soldiers +sprung--_viâ_ the sardine box--is now a rich man, and, what is more, an +eager and keen-sighted patriot, who in his sphere has deserved well of +his country. After retreating for years the French tin-soldiers once +more advance; the German spiked-helmets retire every Christmas from the +conquered positions in French nurseries, and maybe the time is not far +off when the tricolour shall wave over the toy-shops of Berlin--a small +revanche _en attendant_ the great one. + +Many years have elapsed since the enemy placed his heel upon the neck of +fallen France, but still to-day Paris is the metropolis of human +culture. Competition has led the Article de Paris to a commercial Sedan, +and from a financial point of view _le jouet Parisien_ no longer belongs +to the great powers of the toy-world. But the Paris doll will never +admit the superiority of her German rival; she bears the stamp of +nobility on her brow, and she means to rule the doll-world as before by +right of her undisputed rank and her artistic refinement. It surely +needs very little human knowledge to distinguish her at once, the +graceful Parisienne with her _fin sourire_ and her expressive eyes, from +one of the dull beauties of Nuremburg or Hamburg, who, by the +stereotyped grin on her carmine lips, and the staring, vacant eyes, +immediately reveals her Teutonic origin. Should any hesitation be +possible a glance at her feet will suffice--the Parisienne's foot is +small and dainty, and she is always shod with a certain coquetry, whilst +the daughter of Germany is characteristically careless of her +_chaussure--tout comme chez nous_, for the matter of that. As for the +rest of her wardrobe--to leave the anthropological side of the +question--Germany, in spite of her war indemnity of five milliards, is +incapable of producing a tasteful doll-toilet; the delicate fingers of a +Paris grisette are required for this. It is therefore considered the +proper thing among German dolls of fashion to import their dresses from +some doll-Worth in Paris. I can even tell you in parenthesis that the +really distinguished German dolls not only send to Paris for their +dresses but also for their heads. The German doll manufacturers, +incapable themselves of producing pretty and expressive doll faces, buy +their dolls' heads by retail from the porcelain factories of Montreux +and St. Maurice, where they are modelled by first-rate artists, such as +a Carrier-Belleuse and others. + +Up till now I have confined myself to the upper classes of doll society, +but even amongst the well-to-do middle-class dolls of ten to fifteen +francs apiece, the difference between German and French is palpable at +first sight. The further one descends into the lower regions of society, +in the doll _bourgeoisie_, the less clear becomes the national type. I +will undertake, however, to recognise my French friend even amongst +dolls of five francs apiece. To determine the nationality of a one-franc +doll, it is necessary to possess great preliminary knowledge and much +natural aptitude. For the benefit of future explorers in these still +obscure regions of anthropology I may here point out an important item +in the necessary physical examination--the doll must be shaken. If there +is a rattling inside she is probably French, for the Paris grisettes who +make these dolls have a habit of putting some pebbles inside them, +which, I am told, tends to develop the taste for vivisection amongst the +rising generation. + +Lower down in the series where the transition type of Darwin is found, +where the doll is without either arms or legs, and where every trace of +soul has died out from her impassive wooden face, stamped with the same +passion-free calm which characterises the marble folk of antiquity, or +where an unconscious smile alone glides over the rudimentary features +into which the wax has hardened, where the nose is nothing but a +prophetic outline, and where the black eyes are still shaded by the +chaotic darkness out of which the first doll rose--there all national +distinctions cease, there the embryo doll lives her life of Arcadian +simplicity, undisturbed by all political agitations in the land which +gave her birth; the doll _à treize sous_ does not emigrate, maybe from +patriotic motives, maybe from lack of initiative.[5] Her rôle in life is +humble; she belongs to the despised. Her place in the large toy-shops +is in a dark corner behind the other dolls, who stretch forth their +jointed arms towards better-to-do purchasers, and with gleaming glass +eyes and laughing lips appropriate the admiring glances of all the +customers. But far away in the deserted streets of the suburbs, where +the whole toy-shop consists of a portable table and the public of a +crowd of ragged urchins,--there the doll _à treize sous_ reigns supreme. +By the flickering light of the lantern illuminating the modest +fairy-world which Christmas and the New Year display to the children of +the poor, there the despised doll becomes beautiful as a queen and is +surrounded by her whole court of admirers. + +And I myself am one of her admirers. Not one of the fashionable beauties +of the Magasin du Louvre has ever made my heart beat one whit the +faster; not one of the charming coquettes of the Bon Marché has +succeeded in catching me in the net of her blond tresses; but I admit +the tender sympathy with which my eyes rest upon the coarse features of +the doll _à treize sous_. Every one to his taste--I think she is +handsome; I cannot help it. And we have often met; chance leads me +frequently across her path. But fancy if it were not chance! fancy if +instead it was my undeclared affection which so often guided my steps to +these places where I knew I should meet my sweetheart! fancy if I were +falling in love at last! At all events I haven't said anything to her, +nor has she ever said a word to me either of encouragement or rebuff. +But, as I said before, we often meet at the houses of mutual friends, +and sometimes, especially at Christmas and New Year, have we come +together there. My visit does not impress them very much, but what +happiness does not the doll spread around her! Realising my subordinate +rôle I willingly bow before the superior social talents of my companion, +and silently in a corner by myself I enjoy her success. I don't know how +she manages it, but she has hardly crossed the threshold before it seems +to grow brighter inside the dark garret where live the children of +destitution. The light radiates from the sparkling eyes of the little +ones, glimmers in a faint smile on the pale cheek of the sick brother, +and falls like a halo round the bald head of the doll. The little fellow +crawling on the floor suddenly ceases his sobbing; he forgets that he is +hungry, forgets that he is cold, and with radiant joy he stretches out +his arms to welcome the unexpected guest. And later at night, when it is +time for me to go away, when the children of the rich have danced +themselves tired round the Christmas tree, when the soldier's bugle has +sounded in the boys' nursery, and when the little girls' smart dolls +have been put to sleep each in their dainty bed--then little sister up +in the garret tenderly wraps mother's ragged shawl round her beloved +doll, for the night is cold and the doll has nothing on; and so they +fall asleep side by side together, the pauper doll and her grateful +little admirer. + +Despised and ridiculed by us grown-up people, whose eyes have been led +astray by the modern demand for realism, it is nevertheless a fact that +the doll _à treize sous_ in the freshness of her primitive naïveté +approaches nearer the ideal than the costly beauties of the Louvre and +Bon Marché, who have reached the highest summit of refinement. We +grown-up people have lost the faculty of understanding this from the +moment we lost the simplicity of our childhood, but our teacher in this, +as in many other things, is the little chap who still crawls about on +the floor. Put a smart doll of fashion side by side with a simple pauper +doll whose shape is as yet barely human, and you will see that the +child usually stretches out his arms towards the latter. It sounds like +a paradox, but it is a fact that you can easily verify for yourself; +these cheap toys are, as a rule, preferred even by the children of the +rich--that is to say, so long as they are real children and unconscious +of the value of money. Later on, when they have acquired this knowledge, +they are driven out from the Eden of childhood, their eyes are opened to +the nakedness of the pauper doll, and what I have just said ceases to be +true. + +But the "political agitations"--what has become of them? Far away from +all political storms and quarrels, my thoughts have fled to the garret +idyll of the pauper doll; I have tried to sketch her as she has so often +revealed herself to me; I have lifted a corner of the veil of unmerited +oblivion which conceals her humble existence, there where she lives to +bring joy to those whom the world rears to sorrow. I have done so as a +tribute of gratitude for the pure joy which she has so often given me +also, although I am myself too old to play with dolls. But, thank God, I +am not too old to look on! + +The doll is not old, and old age will never touch her--she will never +grow old; she dies young, even as the hero, beloved of the gods. She +dies young, and the first few weeks of the New Year have hardly passed +away before she wends her way to the strange Elysian fields, where all +that survives of broken toys sleeps under the shade of withered +Christmas trees. + +[Footnote 3: An uncanny little invention which, manipulated by hundreds +of street boys, ran all along the Boulevards during the first week of +the New Year. It is about the size of a thimble and costs four sous. As +the Eastern question still commands the attention of Europe, we shall +probably be favoured with it again this winter. To be correct, I must +here state that this attractive toy is also offered for sale under the +name of _Le dernier soupir de la Belle Mère_.] + +[Footnote 4: The German toys pay, since 1871, the ridiculous duty of +sixty francs per hundred kilo.] + +[Footnote 5: The doll _à treize sous_ is a characteristic Parisian type; +she belongs to the family of _poupards_ and is usually made of +papier-mâché or wood. After the making of the head the creative power of +the artist comes to a sudden stand-still; the rest of the body is only a +sketch and loses itself in an oblong chaos.] + + + + + FOR THOSE WHO LOVE MUSIC + + +I had engaged him by the year. Twice a week he came and went through his +whole répertoire, and lately, out of sympathy for me, he would play the +Miserere of the _Trovatore_, which was his show piece, twice over. He +stood there in the middle of the street looking steadfastly up at my +windows while he played, and when he had finished he would take off his +hat with a "Addio Signor!" + +It is well known that the barrel-organ, like the violin, gets a fuller +and more sympathetic tone the older it is. The old artist had an +excellent instrument, not of the modern noisy type which imitates a +whole orchestra with flutes and bells and beats of drums, but a +melancholy old-fashioned barrel-organ which knew how to lend a dreamy +mystery to the gayest allegretto, and in whose proudest tempo di Marcia +there sounded an unmistakable undertone of resignation. And in the +tenderer pieces of the répertoire, where the melody, muffled and +staggering like a cracked old human voice, groped its way amongst the +rusty pipes of the treble, then there was a trembling in the bass like +suppressed sobs. Now and then the voice of the tired organ failed it +completely, and then the old man would resignedly turn the handle during +some bars of rest more touching in their eloquent silence than any +music. + +True, the instrument was itself very expressive, but the old man had +surely his share in the sensation of melancholy which came over me +whenever I heard his music. He had his beat in the poor quarter behind +the Jardin des Plantes, and many times during my solitary rambles up +there had I stopped and taken my place among the scanty audience of +ragged street boys which surrounded him. + +We made acquaintance one misty dark autumn day. I sat on a bench under +the fading trees, which in vain had tried to deck the gloomy square with +a little summer, and now hopelessly suffered their leaves to fall; and, +like a melancholy accompaniment to my dreamy thoughts, the old +barrel-organ in the slum close by coughed out the aria from the last act +of the Traviata: "Addio del passato bei sogni ridenti!" + +I startled as the music stopped. The old man had gone through his whole +répertoire, and after a despairing inspection of his audience he +resignedly tucked the monkey under his cloak and prepared to depart. I +have always liked barrel-organs, and I have a sufficiently correct ear +to distinguish good music from bad; so I went up and thanked him and +asked him to play a little longer, unless he was too tired in the arm. I +am afraid he was not spoiled by praise, for he looked at me with a sad, +incredulous expression which pained me, and with an almost shy +hesitation he asked me if it was any special piece I wished to hear. I +left the choice to the old man. After a mysterious manipulation with +some screws under the organ, which was answered from its depths by a +half-smothered groan, he began slowly and with a certain solemnity to +turn the handle, and with a friendly glance at me, he said, "_Questo è +per gli amici_."[6] + +It was a tune I had not heard him play before, but I knew well the sweet +old melody, and half aloud I searched my memory for the words of perhaps +the finest folk-song of Naples: + + "Fenestra che luciva e mò non luce + Segn' è ca Nenna mia stace malata + S' affaccia la sorella e me lo dice: + Nennella toja è morta e s' è aterrata + Chiagneva sempe ca dormeva sola, + Mò dorme in distìnta compagnia." + + +He looked at me with a shy interest while he played, and when he had +finished he bared his gray head; I also raised my hat, and thus our +acquaintance was made. + +It was not difficult to see that times were hard--the old man's clothes +were doubtful, and the pallor of poverty lay over his withered features, +where I read the story of a long life of failure. He came from the +mountains around Monte Cassino, so he informed me, but where the monkey +hailed from I never quite got to know. + +Thus we met from time to time during my rambles in the poor quarters. +Had I a moment to spare I stopped for a while to listen to a tune or +two, as I saw that it gratified the old man, and since I always carried +a lump of sugar in my pocket for any dog acquaintance I might possibly +meet, I soon made friends with the monkey also. The relations between +the little monkey and her impresario were unusually cordial, and this +notwithstanding that she had completely failed to fulfil the +expectations which had been founded upon her--she had never been able to +learn a single trick, the old man told me. Thus all attempts at +education had long ago been abandoned, and she sat there huddled +together on her barrel-organ and did nothing at all. Her face was sad, +like that of most animals, and her thoughts were far away. But now and +then she woke up from her dreams, and her eyes could then take a +suspicious, almost malignant expression, as they lit upon some of the +street boys who crowded round her tribune and tried to pull her tail, +which stuck out from her little gold-laced garibaldi. To me she was +always very amiable; confidently she laid her wrinkled hand in mine and +absently she accepted the little attentions I was able to offer her. She +was very fond of sweetmeats, and burnt almonds were, in her opinion, +the most delectable thing in the world. + +Since the old man had once recognised his musical friend on a balcony of +the Hôtel de l'Avenir, he often came and played under my windows. Later +on he became engaged, as already said, to come regularly and play twice +a week,--it may, perhaps, appear superfluous for one who was studying +medicine, but the old man's terms were so small, and you know I have +always been so fond of music. Besides it was the only recreation at +hand--I was working hard in the Hôtel de l'Avenir, for I was to take my +degree in the spring. + +So passed the autumn, and the hard time came. The rich tried on the new +winter fashions, and the poor shivered with the cold. It became more and +more difficult for well-gloved hands to leave the warm muff or the +fur-lined coat to take out a copper for the beggar, and more and more +desperate became the struggle for bread amongst the problematical +existences of the street. Before hopelessly-closed windows small +half-frozen artistes gave concerts in the courtyards; unnoticed +resounded the most telling pieces of the répertoire about _La bella +Napoli_ and _Santa Lucia_, while stiffened fingers twanged the +mandoline, and the little sister, shivering with cold, banged the +tambourine. In vain the old street-singer sang with hoarse pathos the +song about _La Gloire_ and _La Patrie_, and in vain my friend played +that piece _per gli amici_--thicker and thicker fell the snowflakes over +the humbly-bared heads, and scarcer and scarcer fell the coppers into +the outstretched hats. + +Now and then I came across my friend, and we always had, as before, a +kind word for one another. He was now wrapped up in an old Abruzzi +cloak, and I noticed that the greater the cold became the faster did he +turn the handle to keep himself warm; and towards December the Miserere +itself was performed in allegretto. + +The monkey had now become civilian, and wrapped up her little thin body +in a long ulster such as Englishmen wear; but she was fearfully cold +notwithstanding, and, forgetful of all etiquette, more and more often +she jumped from the barrel-organ and crept in under the old man's cloak. + +And while they were suffering out there in the cold I sat at home in my +cosy, warm room, and instead of helping them, I forgot all about them, +more and more taken up as I was with my coming examination, with no +thought but for myself. And then one day I suddenly left my lodgings and +removed to the Hôtel Dieu to take the place of a comrade, and weeks +passed before I put my foot out of the hospital. + +I remember it so well, it was the very New Year's Day we met each other +again. I was crossing the Place de Notre Dame, mass was just over, and +the people were streaming out of the old cathedral. As usual, a row of +beggars was standing before the door, imploring the charity of the +churchgoers. The severe winter had increased their number, and besides +the usual beggars, cripples and blind, who were always by the church +porch, reciting in loud voices the history of their misery, there stood +a silent rank of Poverty's accidental recruits--poor fellows whose daily +bread had been buried under the snow, and whose pride the cold had at +last benumbed. At the farther end, and at some distance from the others, +an old man stood with bent head and outstretched hat, and with painful +surprise I recognised my friend in his threadbare old coat without the +Abruzzi cloak, without the barrel-organ, without the monkey. My first +impulse was to go up to him, but an uneasy feeling of I do not know +what held me back; I felt that I blushed and I did not move from my +place. Every now and then a passer-by stopped for a moment and made as +if to search his pocket, but I did not see a single copper fall into the +old man's hat. The place became gradually deserted, and one beggar after +another trotted off with his little earnings. At last a child came out +of the church, led by a gentleman in mourning; the child pointed towards +the old man, and then ran up to him and laid a silver coin in his hat. +The old man humbly bowed his head in thanks, and even I, with my +unfortunate absent-mindedness, was very nearly thanking the little donor +also, so pleased was I. My friend carefully wrapped up the precious gift +in an old pocket-handkerchief, and stooping forward, as if still +carrying the barrel-organ on his back, he walked off. + +I happened to be quite free that morning, and, thinking that a little +walk before luncheon could do me no harm after the hospital air, I +followed him at a short distance across the Seine. Once or twice I +nearly caught him up, and all but tapped him on the shoulder, with a +"Buon giorno, Don Gaetano!" Yet, without exactly knowing why, I drew +back at the last moment and let him get a few paces ahead of me again. + +An icy wind blew straight against us, and I drew my fur cloak closer +round me. But just then it suddenly struck me to ask myself why, after +all, it was I who owned such a warm and comfortable fur cloak, whilst +the old man who tramped along in front of me had only a threadbare old +coat? And why was it for me that luncheon was waiting, and not for him? +Why should I have a good blazing fire burning in my cosy room, while the +old man had to wander about the streets the whole day long to find his +food, and in the evening go home to his miserable garret and, +unprotected against the cold of the winter night, prepare for the next +day's struggle for bread? + +And it suddenly dawned upon me why I had blushed when I saw him at Notre +Dame, and why I could not make up my mind to go and speak to him--I felt +ashamed before this old man, I felt ashamed at life's unmerited +generosity to me and its severity to him. I felt as if I had taken +something from him which I ought to restore to him; and I began to +wonder whether it might be the fur coat. But I got no further in my +meditations, for the old man stopped and looked in at a shop window. We +had just crossed the Place Maubert and turned into the Boulevard St. +Germain; the boulevard was full of people, so that, without being +noticed, I could approach him quite close. He was standing before an +elegant confectioner's shop, and to my surprise he entered without +hesitation. I took up my position before the shop window, alongside some +shivering street arabs who stood there, absorbed in the contemplation of +the unattainable delicacies within, and I watched the old man carefully +untie his pocket-handkerchief and lay the little girl's gift upon the +counter. I had hardly time to draw back before he came out with a red +paper bag of sweets in his hand, and with rapid steps he started off in +the direction of the Jardin des Plantes. + +I was very much astonished at what I had seen, and my curiosity made me +follow him. He slackened his pace at one of the little slums behind +Hôpital de la Pitié, and I saw him disappear into a dirty old house. I +waited outside a minute or two, and then I groped my way through the +pitch-dark entrance, climbed up a filthy staircase, and found a door +slightly ajar. An icy, dark room, in the middle three ragged little +children crouched together around a half-extinct brazier, in the corner +the only furniture in the room--a clean iron bedstead, with crucifix and +rosary hung on the wall above it, and by the window an image of the +Madonna adorned with gaudy paper flowers; I was in Italy, in my poor, +exiled Italy. And in the purest Tuscan the eldest sister informed me +that Don Gaetano lived in the garret. I went up there and knocked, but +no one answered, so I opened the door myself. The room was brightly lit +up by a blazing fire. With his back towards the door, Don Gaetano was on +his knees before the stove busy heating a little saucepan over the fire, +beside him on the floor lay an old mattress with the well-known Abruzzi +cloak thrown over it, and close by, spread out on a newspaper, were +various delicacies--an orange, walnuts, and raisins, and there also was +the red paper bag. Don Gaetano dropped a lump of sugar into the +saucepan, stirred it with a stick, and in a persuasive voice I heard +him say, "_Che bella roba, che bella roba, quanto è buono questa latte +con lo zucchero! Non piange anima mia, adesso siamo pronti!_"[7] + +A slight rustling was heard beneath the Abruzzi cloak, and a black +little hand was stretched out towards the red paper bag. + +"_Primo il latte, primo il latte_," admonished the old man. "_Non +importa, piglia tu una_,"[8] he repented, and took a big burnt almond +out of the paper bag; the little hand disappeared, and a crunching was +heard under the cloak. Don Gaetano poured the warm milk in a saucer, and +then he carefully lifted up a corner of the cloak. There lay the poor +little monkey with heaving breast and eyes glowing with fever. Her face +had become so small, and her complexion was ashy gray. The old man took +her on his knees, and tenderly as a mother he poured some spoonfuls of +the warm milk into her mouth. She looked with indifferent eyes towards +the delicacies on the table, and absently she let her fingers pass +through her master's beard. She was so tired that she could hardly hold +her head up, and now and then she coughed so that her thin little body +trembled, and she pressed both her hands to her temples. Don Gaetano +shook his head sadly, and carefully laid the little invalid back under +the cloak. + +A feeble blush spread over the old man's face as he caught sight of me. +I told him that I had happened to be passing by just as he was entering +his house, and that I took the liberty of following him upstairs in +order to bid him good-morning and to give him my new address, in the +hope that he would come and play to me as before. I involuntarily looked +round for the barrel-organ as I spoke, and Don Gaetano, who understood, +informed me that he no longer played the organ--he sang. I glanced at +the precious pile of wood beside the fireplace, at the new blanket that +hung before the window to keep out the draught, at the delicacies on the +newspaper--and I also understood. + +The monkey had been ill three weeks--_la febbre_, explained the old man. +We knelt one at each side of the bed, and the sick animal looked at me +with her mute prayer for help. Her nose was hot, as it is with sick +children and dogs, her face wrinkled like that of an old, old woman, and +her eyes had got quite a human expression. Her breathing was so short, +and we could hear how it rattled in her throat. The diagnosis was not +difficult--she had consumption. Now and again she stretched out her thin +arms as if she implored us to help her, and Don Gaetano thought that she +did so because she wished to be bled.[9] I would willingly have given +in in this case, although opposed in principle to this treatment, if I +had thought it possible that any benefit could have been derived from +it; but I knew only too well how unlikely this was, and I tried my best +to make Don Gaetano understand it. Unhappily I did not know myself what +there was to be done. I had at that time a friend amongst the keepers of +the monkey-house in the Jardin des Plantes, and the same night he came +with me to have a look at her; he said that there was nothing to be +done, and that there was no hope. And he was right. For one week more +the fire blazed in Don Gaetano's garret, then it was left to go out, and +it became cold and dark as before in the old man's home. + +True, he got his barrel-organ out from the pawn-shop, and now and then a +copper did fall into his hat also. He did not die of starvation, and +that was about all he asked of life. + +So the spring came and I left Paris; and God knows what has become of +Don Gaetano. + +If you happen to hear a melancholy old barrel-organ in the courtyard, go +to the window and give a penny to the poor errant musician--perhaps it +is Don Gaetano! If you find that his organ disturbs you, try if you like +it better by making him stand a little farther off, but don't send him +away with harshness! He has to hear so many hard words as it is; why +should not we then be a little kind to him--we who love music? + +[Footnote 6: "This is for friends."] + +[Footnote 7: "What nice things, what nice things, how good this milk +with sugar is! Don't cry, my darling, it is ready now!"] + +[Footnote 8: "The milk first, the milk first--never mind, take one."] + +[Footnote 9: The lower classes in Italy still use bleeding for all kinds +of diseases, and this treatment is also extended to animals. I knew a +monkey in Naples who was bled twice.] + + + + + POLITICAL AGITATIONS IN CAPRI + + +Don't be alarmed--they are not going to disturb the peace of Europe. + +Alas! there are spots even on the sun, and neither is "the loveliest +pearl in Naples' crown" altogether faultless. + +Croaking ravens swarm around the ruins where thousand-year-old memories +lie slumbering, dirty dwarf hands fumble amidst the remains of fallen +giants' vanished splendour, barbarians pull to pieces the mosaic floors +on which the feet of emperors trod. Night-capped and blue-stockinged +Prose startles the Idyll which lies there dreaming with half-closed +eyes, grinning fauns push aside the vines which hide from view the cool +grotto where the nymph of the legend bathes her graceful limbs. + +Capri is sick, Capri is infested with parasites even as the old lion. +Capri is full of--yes, but in politics one has to be careful; I say +nothing, read the article to the end, and you will see what it is that +Capri is full of. + +Amidst the ruins of Tiberius's Villa you sit on high, gazing out over +the sea. Absently your eye follows a white sail in the distance; it is a +little peaceful fishing-boat quietly sailing home. And your thoughts +wander far, far away. Here, in his marble-shining palace, stood once +upon a time the ruler of the world; he gazed out over the sea, he also, +but his eye was not as fearless as yours, for he dreaded the avenger of +his victims in every approaching boat; and when the bay was dark he +would still linger up there and, trembling, seek to read his doom in the +stars which studded the vault of heaven. No crimes could help him any +longer to forgetfulness of himself; no vice could any more benumb the +torture of his soul; within his rock-built citadel the sombre emperor +suffered torments far greater than any he had ever inflicted on his +victims; his heart had long since bled to death under his purple toga, +but his soul lived on in its titanic sorrow. The spot whereon you lie is +named _Il Salto di Tiberio_. From here he hurled his victims into the +sea, and there below men were rowing about in boats in order to crush to +death with their oars those who were still struggling with the waves. +Bend over the precipice and see the foaming surge--old fishermen have +told me that sometimes when the moon goes under a cloud and all is dark, +the waves breaking over the rocks beneath seem tinged with blood. + +But the sun streams his forgiveness over the crumbled witness of so much +sin, and, ere long, the vision of the sombre emperor fades from your +thought. Now it is silent and peaceful up at Villa Tiberio. You lie +there on your back gazing out over the gulf, and it seems to you as +though the world ended beyond its lovely shores. The restless strife of +the day does not reach you here, and all dissonance is silenced; your +thoughts fly aimlessly round, play for awhile amongst the surf near +Sorrento's rocks, send their open-armed greeting to Ischia's groves, and +pluck some fragrant roses from the verdant shore of Posilipo. So +perception gradually dies away, no longer do you hear the buzz of the +whirling wheels in the factory of thought--to-day is a day of rest and +your soul may dream. What dream you?--You know not! Where are you?--You +know not! You fly on the white wings of the sea-gulls far, far away over +the wide waters; you sail with the brilliant clouds high overhead where +no thought can reach you. + +But you are only a prisoner after all--a prisoner who dreamt he was free +and is awakened in the midst of his dreams by the rattle of a jailer's +key. The sound of voices strikes your ear, and like a wing-shot bird you +fall to the earth. Beside you stands a lanky individual, and he says to +his companion that it is incredible that a man can be prosaic enough to +fall asleep on a spot so _wunderbar_. Ah, you are asleep, are you? + +The spell is broken, the harmony destroyed, and you get up to go away. +He then assaults you with the question whether you don't think the gulf +is blue? and you have not walked on ten yards before he attacks you +treacherously from behind with the remark that the sky is also blue. You +believe it helps to stare savagely at him--I have done it many times, +and it does not impress him in the very least. You want to try to make +him believe you are deaf--that is no use either; he takes it as a +compliment, for he prefers to have the conversation all to himself. + +The sun stands high in the heavens and the summer's day is so +warm--come, let us go and bathe in the cool water of the blue grotto. +No, my friend, not there! Even thither, like sharks they come swimming +after us to ask us if we are aware that the blue grotto of Capri is +virtually German, that it was _ein Deutscher_ who discovered the grotto +in 1826. Let us be off for Bagni di Tiberio, the ruins of the emperor's +bath, strip off our clothes inside one of the cool little chambers which +still remain amongst huge blocks of crumbling masonry, and plunge into +the sapphire water. But do you see those huge holes in the fine +sand,--are there elephants in the island? No, my friend, but let us be +off! I know the track, and there she sits, the blonde Gretchen, reading +one of Spielhagen's novels--were it Heine she was reading I might +perhaps forgive her. + +We return along the beach to the Marina and wend our way along the old +path between the vineyards leading up to the village. Unfortunately the +new carriage road is nearly ready, but we, of course, prefer the old +way, by far the more picturesque of the two. On the beach we stumble +over easels and colour-boxes at short distances set out as traps for +dreamers; beside each trap sits an amateur in ambush under a big +umbrella, and he invokes _der Teufel_ to help him, which I suppose he +does. + +You propose putting up at Albergo Pagano--yes, you are right; it is no +doubt the best hotel in the island. Old Pagano, who was a capital +fellow, died many years ago, and only we old Capriotes can remember him. +His son Manfredo, who now manages the hotel, is my very good friend; but +it is not his fault that his house has become as German as though it +lay in the heart of _Das grosse Vaterland_. At least a good fifty of +them are gathered round the table in the big dining-room. Upon the walls +hangs a plaster medallion of the _Kaiser_ decorated with fresh laurels, +and should they pay you the compliment of mistaking you for a Frenchman, +it is just possible they may drink a bumper to the memory of 1870--an +experience I once went through myself. Instead of the silence and the +peace you so longed for, you are subjected during the whole of +dinner-time to the most terrific uproar worthy of a _Kneipe_ in Bremen. +In despair you fling open the door leading into the garden--no, you are +in Italy after all! Out there under the pergola the moonbeams are +playing amongst the vines, the air is soft and caressing, and the summer +evening recites to you its enchanting sonnet as a compensation for the +prose within. You wander there up and down all alone, but scarcely have +you had time to say to yourself that you are happy before + + "Heil dir im Sieges Kranz!" + +rings like a war-cry through the peaceful night, answered from the +street by some little Capriote ragamuffins with a horrible chorus of + + "Ach! du lieber Augustin! + Augustin, Augustin!" + + * * * * * + +Of course I am aware of the supercilious way in which many of the +readers of _Letters from a Mourning City_[10] have turned up their noses +at my circle of friends out here--lazzaroni, shabby old monks, +half-starving sailors, etc. The hour is at hand for introducing you to +some acquaintances of mine of somewhat higher rank, and now I will tell +you a story of the upper regions of society. It happened at Capri a good +many years ago, and the _dramatis personæ_ consisted of my friend +D----, myself, and the then Crown Princess of Germany. + +My friend D---- and I happened to be the only profane people in the +hotel just then. The whole of the big dining-table was in the hands of +the Germans, whilst we two sat by ourselves at a small side-table. It +was there we had our little observatory, as Professor Palmieri had his +on Mount Vesuvius. For some days past our keen instruments of perception +had warned us that something unusual was going on at the big table. The +roaring of an evening was louder than ever, the smoke rose in thicker +clouds, the beer ran in streams, and the faces were flushed to +red-heat--everything announced an eruption of patriotism. One evening +there arrived a telegram which, amidst a terrific babel of voices, was +read aloud by one of the party--a commercial traveller from Potsdam, +whom I personally hated because he snored at night; his room was next +to mine and the walls of the hotel were thin. The telegram announced +that the Crown Princess of Germany, who had been spending the last few +days in Naples, was expected to visit Capri the next day in the +strictest incognito. Nobody appeared to understand that the word +"incognito" means that one wishes to be left in peace, and during the +rest of the dinner the faithful patriots did nothing but discuss the +best way of how to spoil the unfortunate Princess's little visit to the +island. A complete programme was drawn up there and then: a triumphal +arch was to be erected, a select deputation was to swoop down upon her +the moment she set foot on land, while the main body was to block her +way up to the piazza. Patriotic songs were to be sung in chorus, a +speech read, whilst the commercial traveller from Potsdam was to express +in a welcoming poem what already his face said eloquently enough--that +poetry was not in his line. Every garden in Capri was to be despoiled of +its roses, whole bushes and trees were to be uprooted wherewith to deck +the triumphal arch, and all night they were to weave garlands and stitch +flags. + +I went up to my room, threw myself on the sofa, and lit a cigarette. And +as I lay there meditating, feelings of the deepest compassion towards +the Crown Princess of Germany began to overwhelm me. I had just read in +the papers how, during her stay in Naples, she had sought by every +manner of means to elude all official recognition, and to avoid every +sort of demonstration in her honour during her excursions round the bay. +Poor Princess! she had flattered herself upon having left all weary +court etiquette behind in foggy Berlin, and yet she was not to be +allowed to enjoy in peace one single summer day on the gulf! To be rich +enough to be able to buy the whole of Capri, and yet be unable to enjoy +the peaceful idyll of the enchanting island for one short hour! To be +destined to wear one of the proudest crowns of the world, and yet to be +powerless to prevent a commercial traveller from writing poetry! My +compassionate reflections were here disturbed by the noise of heavy +footsteps in the adjoining room; it sounded like the tramp of horses' +hoofs; it was the "_Probenreiter_" who mounted his Pegasus. The whole +night through I lay there reflecting on the vanity of earthly power, and +the whole night did the Poet Laureate wander up and down his room. Once +the tramping ceased, and there was a silence. There was a panting from +within, and I heard a husky voice murmur-- + + "Ich stehe hier auf Felsenstrand! + Ich stehe hier auf Felsenstrand!"[11] + +A moment afterwards I heard him fling open his window and let the night +air cool the fire of his inspiration. Our rooms opened on to the same +balcony, and carefully lifting up my blind I could see the moonlight +falling full upon him as he leaned against the window-frame. His hair +stood on end and an inarticulate mumble fell from his lips. He gazed in +despair up to the heavens where the stars were twinkling knowingly at +one another; he glanced out over the garden where the night wind flew +tittering amongst the leaves. But he never saw the joke until a startled +young cock inquired of some old cocks down in the poultry yard what time +it was, and then crowed straight into his face that the night was passed +and he had got no further than the first verse. Then he murmured once +more a plaintive-- + + "Ich stehe hier auf Felsenstrand!" + +and banged his windows to. All the cocks of Pagano's crowed "Bravo! +Bravo!" but Phoebus, Phoebus Apollo, the God of the Sun and of the +poets, entered his room at that moment, and he reddened with anger when +he caught sight of the commercial traveller tampering with his lyre. + +Later on, when the chambermaid appeared, I heard him call out for coffee +and cognac--having spent the whole night like that on his +_Felsenstrand_, no wonder he needed a pick-me-up. He was late for +luncheon. I glanced at the poet; an interesting pallor lent a faint look +of distinction to the commercial traveller's plump features, and his +great goggle eyes lay like extinct suns under his heavy eyelids. He +received great attention from everybody, especially from the fair sex. I +heard him confide to his neighbour at table that he always succeeded +best with improvisations, and that he did not intend to let the reins of +his inspiration loose until the last moment. They drank to his charming +talent, whereupon he modestly smiled. He ate nothing, but drank +considerably. At dessert he had regained his high colour, harangued +every one excitedly, and drank toasts right and left. But it seemed as +if he dared not be alone with his thoughts; as soon as the conversation +around him ceased, he sank into profound meditation, and an attentive +observer could easily detect that the roses of his cheeks were hiding +cruel thorns which pierced his soul. For it was twelve o'clock; the +Princess was expected at four, and he still stood there like Napoleon on +St. Helena, alone and abandoned on his _Felsenstrand_, vainly gazing out +over the unfathomable ocean of poetry in search of one single little +friendly rhyme to row him over to the next verse. + +The hotel had become quite unbearable downstairs; rehearsals of +patriotic songs were going on in the salon, whilst in the hall went on a +busy manufacture of garlands, to which the victim's name and long +fluttering ribbons were being attached. The piazza was gaily decorated; +the triumphal arch was ready--a black cardboard eagle perched on the top +holding a white placard in his beak, upon which stood out in huge red +letters the word _Willkommen_. Flag-staffs and garlands all over the +piazza; even Nicolino, barber and _salassatore_ (bleeder), had decided +to join the triple alliance, and a colossal German flag was waving +before his _salone_. I did not know what to do with myself, and at last +I strolled up towards Villa di Tiberio--up there, there might be a +chance of a little peace at all events. I had scarcely had time to lie +down in my favourite place far out on the edge of the cliff, viewing the +Bay of Naples on one side and the Bay of Salerno and the wide sea on the +other, before a long shadow fell across me. I looked up, and saw a +patriot staring fixedly through a telescope towards Naples. As a matter +of fact, something was visible in the midst of the bay, but the haze +made it difficult to see what it was. Suddenly he gave a sort of +war-whoop, whereupon two other spies, who must have been sitting at the +top of the old watch-tower, came bursting on the scene. I knew quite +well what it was that had appeared in sight--it was the big +"Scoppa-boat" sailing home from Naples.[12] Of course I said nothing, as +there was always a faint hope that they might mistake it for the +expected steamer, and take themselves off. But unfortunately they also +guessed rightly, and all three sat down on the grass beside me, and +began munching sandwiches and abusing Tiberius. I took myself off, and +returned to Capri. On the piazza I came across my friend D----, who did +not seem to be in a very good temper either; he was on his way to the +Marina, and I accompanied him thither. Down at the Marina everything was +peaceful and quiet, for the time being at all events. Old men sat there +in the open boathouses mending their nets, and small boys, who had not +seen fit to put on more clothes than usual for the Princess's expected +visit, played about in the surf, and rolled their little bronze bodies +in the sand. The landing-place was crowded as usual when the Naples +steamer is expected; girls stood there offering corals, flowers, and +fruit for sale, and in the rear stood patient little donkeys, ready +saddled for carrying the expected visitors on a trip up to the village. +We were just about to blot the whole of Germany from our minds, when my +friend Alessio, shading his eyes with his hand, suddenly observed that +the steamer which had just come in sight was not the usual passenger +steamer from Naples, but a larger and more rapid boat. I looked at my +watch, it was barely three o'clock; I had hoped for at least another +hour's respite. Alessio was right; it was not the usual boat that hove +in sight. And now the Marina began to wake up, and people came pouring +in from all sides. We saw the deputation rush down the hill at full +speed, with the chorus at its heels, and last of all came the court +poet, who surely disapproved as much as we did at the Princess's +anticipating her visit by a whole hour. The steamer was certainly going +with a greater speed than the usual boat, and she also seemed to draw +more water, as she backed farther out than usual from the harbour. The +solemn moment was at hand; the deputation stood on the landing-stage in +battle array, headed by the commercial traveller. We saw several people +descend the ladder and step into a little boat, which rapidly made for +the shore. + + "Heil dir im Sieges Kranz!" + +was now performed, and hardly had they got through the first verse when +the boat pulled up alongside the little quay, and two ladies and a +gentleman in uniform prepared to land. If they thought this would prove +so easy a matter, they were mistaken--they were stopped short by the +commercial traveller from Potsdam, who solemnly and warningly stretched +out his right hand towards them, while with his left he drew a paper out +of his trousers pocket. My old compassion for the Crown Princess rose +anew, but what could I do for her? All hope of escape was at an +end. . . . + + "Ich stehe hier auf Felsenstrand"-- + +--but here there was a sudden silence. One of the ladies laughingly bent +forward to say a few words to the gentleman in uniform, who quietly +informed the deputation that these two ladies of the Princess's suite +were anxious to make an excursion up to the village, while the Princess +herself, who had remained on board, would sail round the island. At +that very moment we saw the steamer turn round and make for the western +side of the island. + +Utterly dumbfounded, the deputation held a council of war as to the best +course to be pursued. It was evident that the steamer had gone to make +"_il giro_" (_i.e._ the usual round of the island), to return finally to +the Grande Marina, the only real landing-place which Capri possesses. +True that a sort of harbour exists also on the south side at the Piccola +Marina, but it has fallen into disuse, and the road hence into the +village is very rough. They therefore decided to await the steamer's +return where they were; more than an hour it would scarcely take. The +deputation sank dejectedly down upon some upturned boats, but the poet +remained standing for fear of creasing his dress-coat (fancy wearing a +dress-coat and top-hat in Capri!) And he ran no chance of freezing, I +can tell you, as he stood there in his sun-bath. The hour dragged +wearily along, but still no sign of the steamer. They had waited for +nearly two hours, when a fisherman phlegmatically observed that as far +as he could make out the steamer had gone to the Piccola Marina, for he +had rowed past just as the jolly-boat set out from the steamer, and some +one on the captain's bridge had asked him how many feet of water they +might count upon at the Piccola Marina. Up flew the deputation as if +stung by an asp, and disappeared in a cloud of dust on to the Capri +road. + +We dawdled about the Marina for some time longer, but finally we also +wandered up to Capri, not by the broad carriage-road, but climbing the +old path which joins the Anacapri road at some distance from the +village, thus avoiding the piazza altogether. + +It was as warm as a summer's day, and we lay down by the roadside to +rest in the high grass. We talked politics by way of exception. My +friend D---- is an Alsatian; he had been through the Franco-German war, +and was anything but tender towards the Germans, and neither was I, for +reasons of my own. But we were generous enemies, and we agreed that we +were very sorry for the Crown Princess, however German she might be. + +And thus I came to speak of my nocturnal adventure with the commercial +traveller, and no one being within earshot it is just possible that we +cracked a joke or two at the poet's expense. I remember that we tried to +steer him safely through his poem, and lay there roaring with laughter, +composing some extra verses to his unfinished inspiration. My old dog +lay beside me in the grass; he did his best to follow us in our poetical +flights, but the heat had made him somewhat indifferent to literary +pursuits, and he never succeeded in keeping more than one eye open at a +time. From out the ivy covering the old stone wall behind us a little +quick-tailed lizard peeped every now and then to warm itself in the sun. +Whenever you catch sight of one of these little lizards you should +whistle softly; the graceful little animal will then stand still, gazing +wonderingly around with her bright eyes to see from whence the sound +proceeds. She is so frightened that you can see her heart beat in her +brilliant green breast, but she is so curious and so fond of music--and +there is so little music to be heard inside the old stone wall! You have +only to keep quite quiet to see her emerge from her hiding-place and +settle down to listen attentively. Something rather melancholy is what +pleases her best; she likes Verdi, and I often start with Traviata when +I give concerts for lizards. I am so fond of music myself, and maybe +that is the reason why I try to be kind to these small music-lovers. +That any one can have the heart to take the pretty, graceful little +lizards captive is more than I can understand; they belong to an old +Italian wall as much as the ivy and the sunshine. But in Albergo Pagano +is a German who does nothing but go about hunting lizards; he shuts them +up in a cigar-box, which he opens every now and then to gaze like +another Gulliver upon his Lilliputian captives. We are deadly enemies, +he and I, for once I opened his cigar-box and set all his lizards free. + +Suddenly Puck gave a growl. We looked up, and to our great astonishment +we saw two ladies standing in front of us, and behind them stood a +gentleman in black, staring fixedly into space. We had not heard them +come up, so that they must have been standing there while D---- and I +were busy finishing off the commercial traveller's poem. We looked at +each other in consternation, but there was evidently nothing to fear; it +was not difficult to see that they were English, and not likely to have +understood one word of what we had been talking about. One of the ladies +was middle-aged, rather stout, and wore a gray travelling-dress, while +the other was a very smart young lady, whom we thought very good-looking +indeed. They stood there gazing out over the Marina, and on looking in +the same direction we saw that the Princess's steamer had returned from +its _giro_ round the island, and had anchored beside the Naples boat. +Our discomfiture was complete upon the younger of the ladies turning +round to ask us in perfect French how long it would take them to get to +the village. D----, who was lying nearest them, answered it would hardly +take ten minutes. + +"Is it necessary to go through the village in order to reach the beach?" +said she, pointing towards the Marina. + +"Yes," answered D----, "it is necessary to do so." + +Here Puck stretched himself and stared yawningly at them. + +"What a beautiful dog!" I heard the elder lady say to her companion in +English. I at once discovered her to be a lady of great distinction and +exceptional taste, and I immediately felt a desire to show her some +politeness. I could not hit upon anything better to tell her than that +she had chosen an unfortunate day for coming to Capri, the island having +fallen a prey to the barbarians for the whole day. I told her that the +Crown Princess of Germany was actually on the island, and that, pursued +by a deputation and a commercial traveller, she had just now been caught +on the Piccola Marina and carried off to the Piazza. I added that all +our sympathies followed the Princess. I noticed a rather peculiar +expression on the younger lady's face as I delivered myself of these +remarks, but the elder listened to all I said with a scarcely +perceptible smile over her eyes. + +"We are anxious to reach the harbour as soon as possible," said she; "we +have been absent longer than we intended." + +"There is a short cut down to the Marina," answered I, politely; "we +have just come up that way ourselves. But I am afraid it is rather too +rough a road for you, madam." + +"Will it lead us straight down there?" said she, pointing to the harbour +where both steamers lay at anchor. + +"Oh dear, yes!" + +"And without obliging us to enter the village?" + +"Without obliging you to enter the village," answered I. + +She exchanged a few words with the younger lady, and then said in a +decided, abrupt sort of way, "Be kind enough to show us the way." + +Yes, that was easy enough, and I led them down to the Marina. +Conversation rather languished on the way. I had come across two +singularly reticent ladies, and had it not been for my repeated efforts +it would have died altogether. Every now and then the younger lady +smiled to herself, which made me fear I had said something stupid. I +have never been much of a society man, and it is not so easy a matter to +entertain two entirely strange ladies. + +Upon reaching the wider part of the road I pointed towards the Marina at +their feet, and told them that they could not possibly go wrong now. We +saw one or two officers walking up and down the landing-stage, whereupon +I told the ladies that, were they desirous of seeing the Crown Princess, +they had only to wait there a moment or two; she was bound to arrive +soon with her tormentors at her heels. But this, they said, they did not +care about, and then they kindly wished me good-bye. + +Hardly had I begun to retrace my steps when two lackeys in the royal +livery of the house of Savoy came running down the road; I had barely +time to move to one side before they were yards beyond me. They were +immediately followed by a long, gaunt individual with very thin legs and +a very big moustache--_ma foi!_ if not a German officer, remarkably like +one at all events. He in his turn was succeeded by a fat, fussy little +person, who literally threw himself into my arms; he held his gold-laced +hat in one hand, while with the other he wiped the perspiration from his +forehead; he stammered an apology, and then rolled off again like a ball +down the hill. Most extraordinary, thought I to myself, the number of +people on this footpath to-day, considering that as a rule one never +meets a soul here! + +D---- still lay on the Anacapri road waiting for me; neither of us cared +to return to Capri just then, and we finally made up our minds to walk +up to Anacapri and greet la bella Margherita, and wait there till the +island should be restored to calm. We sat for a while under the pergola +and drank a glass of vino bianco, and then we slowly sauntered down to +Capri along the beautiful road, the whole of the myrtle-covered mountain +slope at our feet. When passing beneath Barbarossa's ruined castle we +glanced towards the Marina and saw to our relief that both steamers had +taken their departure. Genuine Capriotes always witness the departure of +the steamer with a certain satisfaction; they like to keep their beloved +Capri to themselves, and the crowd of noisy strangers only disturbs the +harmony of the dreamy little island. + +It was very nearly dark by the time we reached the village. The piazza +was quite deserted; from the shop-window of Nicolino, barber and +bleeder, hung the tricoloured flag waving sadly in the wind, whilst +perched upon the triumphal arch the cardboard eagle sat aloft gnawing +gloomily at his _Willkommen_. + +Upon reaching the hotel we found that every one was seated at table, but +an unusual silence prevailed. We withdrew to our little table and tried +to look as innocent as possible. At dessert there arose a frightful +dispute at the big table as to whose was the fault of a certain calamity +which apparently had happened to them during the day. I thought I heard +a murmur going round about an idiot who had been seen accompanying two +ladies down a short cut to the Marina, but I never got to know who he +was. Ah well! neither D---- nor I care to tell you more about this +story. If we behaved badly I have already been sufficiently punished. +Here I sit far from my beloved island in fog and gloom, whilst the +commercial traveller, for aught I know, is perhaps still enjoying +himself at Capri, and still entertaining the cocks of Pagano with-- + + "Ich stehe hier auf Felsenstrand!" + +[Footnote 10: _Letters from a Mourning City_, by Axel Munthe. John +Murray: London, 1887.] + +[Footnote 11: "Here I stand on a rocky shore!"] + +[Footnote 12: The old means of communication between Capri and Naples. +Unfortunately replaced by an ugly little steamer.] + + + + + MENAGERIE + + +--------------------------------------------+ + | _For a few days only!!!_ | + | | + | BRUTUS, Lion from Nubia. | + | | + | Tigers, Bears, Wolves. | + | | + | POLAR BEAR. | + | | + | Monkeys, Hyænas, and other remarkable | + | Animals. | + | | + | The Lion-Tamer, called "The Lion King," | + | will enter the Lion's Cage at 6 o'clock. | + | | + | _For a few days only!!!_ | + +--------------------------------------------+ + +The street boys hold out for a while longer, cold though the evening be, +for the Lion King himself has already twice appeared on the platform in +riding-boots, and his breast sparkling with decorations, and, besides +that, one can distinctly hear the howling of the animals within the +tent. + +Yes, it would be a pity to miss an entertainment like this; come, let us +go in! + +It is the Lion King's wife herself who is sitting there selling the +tickets, and we gaze at her with a deference due to her rank. She wears +gold bracelets round her thick wrists, and a double gold chain glitters +beneath her fur cape. But the monkeys who sit there on each side of her +chained to their perches with leather straps girt tightly round their +stomachs--they wear no fur capes. Their faces are blue with cold, and +when they jump up and down to try to keep themselves warm the street +boys laugh and the market people stop to have a look at them--poor +unconscious clowns of the menagerie who are there for the purpose of +luring in spectators to witness the tortures of their other companions +in distress. + +The tent is full of people, and the many gas-lights inflame the infected +air. The show has already begun, and the spectators follow from cage to +cage a negro, who, pointing his stick at the prisoner behind the bars, +in monotonous voice announces his age, his country, and his crime of +having led the life which Nature has taught him to live. + +I have been here several times, and I know the negro's description by +heart. I will show you the animals. + +Here, in this cage, moping on his perch, his head hidden beneath his +ragged feather-cloak, you see the proudest representative of the bird +world--_The Royal Eagle, three years old, taken young_. You have read +about him, the strong-winged bird, who in solemn majesty circles above +the desolate mountain-tops. Alone he lives up there amongst the +clouds--alone like the human soul. He builds his nest upon an +inaccessible rock, and the precipice shields his young from rapacious +hands. _Taken young_; that means that the nest was plundered, the +mother was shot as she flew shrieking to protect her child, and by the +butt-end of the gun was broken the wing-bone of the half-grown eagle as +he struggled for his freedom. Here he has sat ever since; he sleeps +during the day, but he is awake the live-long night, and when all is +silent in the tent a strange, uncanny moan may be heard from his cage. +_Three years old!_ He is not the most to be pitied here, for he is not +likely to last long--the Royal Eagle dies when caged. + +Here you see a _Bear_. His cage is so small that he cannot walk up and +down; he sits there almost upright on his hindquarters, rocking his meek +and heavy head from side to side. If you offer him a piece of bread, he +flattens his nose against the bars and gently and carefully takes the +gift out of your hand. His nose is torn by the iron ring he once was +made to wear, and his eyes are bloodshot and streaming from the strong +gaslight; but their expression is not bad, it is kind and intelligent +like that of an old dog. Now and then he grips the bars with his mighty +paws, helplessly shaking the cage until the guinea-pigs who live below +him rush up and down in abject terror. Ay, shake your cage, old Bruin! +the bars are steel, stronger than your paws; you will never come +out--you are to die in your prison. You are a dangerous beast of +prey--you live on bilberries and fruit, and now and then you help +yourself to a sheep to keep yourself from dying of starvation. God +Almighty did not know better than to teach you to do so, but no doubt it +was very ill-judged of Him, and you are very much to blame; it is only +man who has the right to eat his fill. + +Here you see a _Hyæna_. The negro stirs up the hyæna with a cut of his +whip, and timorously the animal crouches in the farthermost corner of +the cage, whilst the negro tells the spectators that the hyæna is known +for its cowardice. The hyæna dare not risk an open fight, but +treacherously attacks the defenceless prisoner whom the savages have +left bound hand and foot to his fate in the wilderness, or the exhausted +beast of burden whom the caravan has abandoned in the desert after +having hoisted on to another the load he is no longer able to bear. The +negro pokes cautiously with his pointed stick into the corner where the +cowardly animal tries to hide itself, and the spectators all agree that +the hyæna, with its crouching back and restless eyes, conveys a faithful +picture of treachery and cowardice. None of the spectators have ever +seen a hyæna before, but they have seen crouching backs and restless +eyes. Not even the dead does the hyæna leave in peace, says the negro, +and with disgust man turns away from the guilty animal. + +Here you see a _Polar Bear_. Its name is advertised in huge letters on +the placard outside; and he deserves the distinction well indeed, for +his torture perhaps surpasses that of all the other animals. The Polar +bear is another dangerous beast of prey; he does a little fishing for +himself up in the north where man is busy exterminating the whales. The +horrible sufferings of the animal need no comment--let us go on. + +A little _South African Monkey_ and a rabbit live next to the cage +inhabited by the panting Polar bear.[13] + +The little monkey is sick to death of the eternal clambering up and down +the bars of the cage, and the swing which dangles over her head does not +amuse her any more. Sadly she sits there upon her straw-covered prison +floor, in one hand she holds a half-withered carrot, which she turns +over once again to see if it looks equally unappetising on every side, +while with the other she sorrowfully scratches the rabbit's back. Now +and then she gets interested, drops the carrot, and attentively with +both hands explores some suspicious-looking spot on her companion's +mangy back and pulls out a few hairs, which she carefully examines. But +soon she wearies of the rabbit also, and does not know in the least what +to do with herself. She looks round in the straw, but there is nothing +to be seen but the carrot; she looks round the bare, slippery walls of +her cage, but neither there is there anything of the slightest interest +to be found. And at last she has nothing else to do but, for the +hundredth time that hour, to jump into the swing, only to leap on to the +floor the next minute and seat herself again, leaning against the +rabbit. The spectators call this jumping for joy, but the poor little +monkey knows how jolly it is. + +The rabbit is resigned. The captivity of generations has stupefied +him--the longing for liberty has died ages ago from out of his +degenerated hare-brain. He hopes for nothing, but he desires nothing. He +has no social talents; he is in no way qualified to entertain his +restless friend; and besides that, he fails to grasp the situation. But +he rewards the monkey to the best of his abilities for the little +offices of friendship which she performs for him; and when the gas has +been turned out, and the cold night air enters the tent, then the +Northerner lends his warm fur coat to the trembling little Southerner, +and nestling close to one another they await the new day. + +The inhabitant of the cage in yonder corner has not been advertised at +all upon the placard outside. He is not to be seen just now; perhaps he +is asleep for a while in his dark, little bedroom; but every one who +catches sight of that wire wheel knows that it is a _Squirrel_ who lives +here. What he has to do in a menagerie is more than I can say, for on +that point the zoological education of the public should surely be +completed--we all know what the squirrel looks like. Superstitious +people of my country say that it is an evil omen if a squirrel crosses +their path. I don't know where they got hold of that idea, but maybe +they have taken it from a squirrel--for the squirrel believes exactly in +the same way if a man crosses his path, and, alas! he has got reason +enough for his belief. I, on the contrary, have always thought it a +piece of good luck whenever I have happened to come across a little +squirrel. Often enough while roaming through the woods and halting with +grateful joy at every other step before some new wonder in the fairyland +of nature--often enough have I caught a glimpse of the graceful, nimble, +little fellow swinging himself high overhead on some leafy branch, or +carefully peeping out from his little twig cottage, watching with his +bright eyes whether any schoolboys were lurking beneath his tree. "Come +along, little man," I then would say in squirrel language; "true enough, +I did not turn out the man I had been expected to become when at school; +but, thank God! I have at least arrived so far in knowledge that I have +learned to feel tender sympathy for you and yours!" We were, alas! not +taught this at school in my days; we exchanged birds' eggs for old +stamps; we shot small birds with guns as big as ourselves--and now let +him who can come and deny the doctrine of original sin! We were cruel to +animals, like all savages. To the best of my abilities do I now +endeavour to expiate the wrong I was then guilty of. But an evil action +never dies; and I know of bloodstains on tiny boys' fingers which have +rusted to stains of shame in the childhood recollections of the man. To +my humiliation I have shot many a little bird, and many another did I +keep imprisoned. Regretfully do I also own to having killed a squirrel; +treacherously did I plunder his home, and his little one did I imprison +in just such another cage as the one we now stand in front of. See! +there comes the little squirrel out from his bedroom and begins to run +round and round in his wire wheel. He has made the same attempt +thousands and thousands of times, and yet he makes it once again. Yes, +it looks very pretty! when I used to watch my squirrel running round and +round in his wire wheel in precisely the same way, and at last the wheel +was turning so rapidly that I could not distinguish the bars, I thought +it was capital fun. I know now why he runs; he runs in anxious longing +for freedom; he runs as long as he has strength to run; for neither is +_he_ able to distinguish any more the bars of the turning wheel. He may +run a mile and still he is hedged in by the same prison bars. The simple +invention is almost diabolically cunning; it is the wheel of Ixion in +the Tartarus of pain to which mankind has banished animals. + +Here you see a _Wolf from Siberia_. The wolf is also, as is well known, +a dangerous, wild beast. When the cold is extreme, and the snow lies +very deep, the wolves approach the habitation of man, and in starving +crowds they follow any sledge they meet--they have even been known in +very rare cases to attack the horses. We have all read that terrible +story of the Russian peasant on his way home across the deserted +snow-fields; he heard the panting of the wolves behind his sledge, and +he could see their eyes glitter through the darkness of the night, and +in order to save his own life he had to throw one of his children to +the wolves. + +The negro informs you that the wild beast in this cage was caught young; +the she-wolf as usual was killed while attempting to save her cub. + +The bottom of the cage is shining like a parquet floor from the +continual tramping up and down of the prisoner within, for he knows no +rest. Night and day he paces to and fro, his head bent low as though in +search of some outlet of escape; he will never find it; he will die +behind those bars even as the prisoners in his own country die in their +irons. + +The big _Parrot_ on her perch over there sheds the one ray of light on +this dark picture. The parrot I need not describe to you, for you know +the species well. This one hails, we are told, from the New World, but +one comes across a good many parrots in the Old World also. The parrot +is a universal favourite and is to be found in nearly every house. The +parrot is not unhappy; she is unconscious of the chain round her leg, +she does not realise that she was born with wings. She is undisturbed by +any unnecessary brain activity; she eats, she sleeps, trims her gorgeous +feather cloak, and chatters ceaselessly from morning till night. Left to +herself she is silent, for she is only able to repeat what others have +said before her, and this she does so cleverly that often, on hearing +some one chatter, I have to ask myself whether it be a human being or a +parrot. . . . + +The ragged, attenuated animal standing over there and gazing at us with +her soft, sad eyes is a _Chamois from Switzerland_. The chamois is a +rarity in a menagerie, for, as is well known, it usually frets to death +during the first year of its captivity. I look at the poor animal with a +feeling of oppression at my heart which you can scarcely realise--I have +breathed the free air of the high mountains myself, and I know why the +chamois dies in prison. Those were other times, poor captive chamois, +when you were roving on the Alpine meadows amidst rhododendrons and +myrtillus; when on high, over a precipice, I saw your beautiful +silhouette standing out against the clear, bright sky! You had no need +of an alpenstock, you, to climb up there, where I watched the aerial +play of your graceful limbs amongst the rocks. Up to the realm of ice +you led the way, high on the slopes of Monte Rosa has my clumsy, human +foot trodden the snow in the track of your dainty mountain shoes. Ay, +those were other times, poor prisoner!--those were other times both for +you and me, and we had better say no more about them. + +Yonder stalwart, muscular ape is a _Baboon_; _aged, Abyssinian male_, +stands written under his cage. He sits there, wrapped in thought, +fingering a straw. Now and then he casts a rapid glance around him, and +be sure he is not so absent-minded as he looks. The eye is intelligent +but malevolent; its owner is a candidate for humanity. + +When the negro approaches his cage he shows him a row of teeth not very +unlike the negro's own--the family likeness between the two faces is, +for the matter of that, unmistakable. The negro cautions the public +against accepting the wrinkled hand which the old baboon extends between +the bars. I always treat him to an extra lump of sugar ever since the +negro told me he once bit off the thumb of an old woman who poked her +umbrella at him. Besides, I look at him with veneration, for he comes +from an illustrious family. Who knows whether he is not an ill-starred +descendant of that heroic old baboon whom Brehm once met in +Abyssinia?--The negro is sure to know nothing of that story, so I may as +well tell it you. One day, while travelling in Abyssinia, the great +German naturalist fell in with a whole troop of baboons, who, bound for +some high rocks, were marching along a narrow defile. The rear had not +yet emerged from the defile when the dogs of Brehm and his companions +rushed forward and barred their passage. Seeing the danger the other +baboons, who had already reached the rocks, then descended in a body to +the rescue of the attacked, and they screamed so terribly that the dogs +actually fell back; the whole troop of baboons was now filing off in +perfect order when the dogs were again set at them. All the apes, +however, reached the rocks in safety, with the exception of one +half-year-old baboon who happened to have been lagging behind; he was +surrounded on all sides by the open-mouthed dogs, and with loud cries of +distress he jumped on to a big boulder. At this juncture a huge baboon +stepped down from the rocks for the second time, advanced alone to the +stone where the little one was crouching, patted him on the back, lifted +him gently down, and so led him off triumphantly before the very noses +of the dogs, who were so taken by surprise that it never even occurred +to them to attack him. One need not have read Darwin to pronounce that +baboon a hero. + +I have noticed that even kind-hearted spectators do not seem to feel +very much commiseration for captive monkeys. The ape is playing in the +menagerie the same rôle as Don Quixote in literature--the superficial +observer looks upon them as exclusively comical, and only laughs at +them. But the attentive looker-on knows that the solitary monkey's life +behind the bars is in its way nothing but a tragedy, as well as +Cervantes' immortal book is nothing but a mournful epic. With tender +emotion he feels how an increasing sympathy mingles in his pitiful smile +the more he gets to know of them, these two superannuated types: Don +Quixote, the simple-minded, would-be hero, still lagging on the scene +long after the _epopée_ of chivalry has departed in the twilight of +mediæval mysticism; and the ape, the phantom from the vanishing animal +world, over whose hairy human face already falls the dawn of the +birthday of the first man. + +This baboon may perhaps appear to you very ugly, but we know that the +perception of physical beauty is an entirely individual one, and it is +quite possible that the baboon on his side finds us very ugly. You +cannot help smiling now and then when standing and watching him, but, at +least, try not to let him see it, for, like all monkeys, it saddens and +irritates him to be laughed at to his face. This old baboon is deeply +unhappy, for, as he has got more brains than the other animals in the +menagerie, his capacity for suffering is consequently greater--for we +all know that suffering is an intellectual function. He alone realises +the hopelessness of his situation, and his restless brain-activity +refuses him the relative oblivion which resignation vouchsafes to many +others of his companions in distress. + +But as a compensation he possesses one quality which the other animals +lack, and it is the possession of this quality which saves him from +falling into hypochondria;--it is his sense of humour. That the monkey +is a born humorist every one knows who has had the opportunity of +observing him in society--for instance, in the monkey-house at the Zoo. +This sense of humour does not even desert the poor monkey kept in +solitary confinement. And sometimes when I have been standing here for a +while watching the mimicry of this old baboon I have involuntarily had +to ask myself whether he were not making fun of me. . . . + +The negro has finished his recital, and it is time for the show-piece of +the evening to come off. The spectators crowd in front of the +lion-cage, dividing their admiration between Brutus, the Nubian lion, +behind the bars and the keeper who, unarmed, is about to enter the cage. +The man throws off his overcoat and the "Lion King" stands before us in +all his pride, pink tights, riding-boots, and his gold-laced breast +covered with decorations--from Nubia likewise even these. He is small of +stature like Napoleon, and the constant intercourse with the wild beasts +has given his face a rough and repulsive expression. He reeks of brandy, +to counteract the stale smell of the cage, and his pomatumed hair curls +neatly round his low-sloping forehead. The negro hands him a whip, and +the solemn moment is at hand. Proudly the Lion King creeps into the +cage, and proudly he cracks his whip at the half-sleeping Brutus. The +lion raises himself with a sullen roar, and, hugging the walls, begins +to wander round his cage. Proudly the Lion King stretches out his whip, +and obediently like a dog Brutus leaps lazily over it. Proudly the +negro hands his master a hoop, and wearily and dejectedly Brutus jumps +through it. Brutus is sulky to-night; he does not roar as he ought to +do. Things look up, however, towards the end of the performance, when +the Lion King, standing in a corner of the cage, paralyses Brutus with a +proud look just as he is about to attack him. Brutus is no longer +obstinate, but roars irreproachably, and shows his yellow fang. A few +half-smothered cries of alarm are heard from the audience, an old woman +faints, a pistol is fired off while the Lion King, under cover of the +smoke, hurriedly and proudly creeps out of the cage. + +Captive lion, have you then forgotten that once you were a king +yourself, that once there was a time when all men trembled at your +approach, that the forest grew silent when your imperious voice +resounded? Fallen monarch, awake from the degradation of your thraldom; +rise giant-like and let the thunder of your royal voice be heard once +more! + +Brutus, Brutus, vindicator of lost freedom, you are too proud to be a +slave! Rend asunder the chains which coward human cunning has bound +around the sleeping power of your limbs! + +Shake your flaming lion mane, and, strong as Samson, in your mighty +wrath bring down the prison walls around you to crush the Philistines +assembled here to jeer at the impotence of their once dreaded enemy! + +Brutus, Brutus, vindicator of lost freedom! + +[Footnote 13: Perhaps you are not aware of the common practice in +menageries of keeping a rabbit in the monkey's cage for the sake of +warmth.] + + + + + ITALY IN PARIS + + +At one time I had many patients in the Roussel Yard. Ten or twelve +families lived there, but none were so badly off, I believe, as the +Salvatore family. At Salvatore's it was so dark that they were obliged +to burn a little oil-lamp the whole day, and there was no fireplace +except a brazier which stood in the middle of the floor. Damp as a +cellar it was at all times; but when it rained the water penetrated into +the room, which lay a couple of feet lower than the street. + +And nevertheless one could see in everything a kind of pathetic struggle +against the gloomy impression which the dwelling itself made. Old +illustrated papers were pasted up round the walls, the bed was neat and +clean, and behind an old curtain in one corner, the family's little +wardrobe was hung up in the neatest order. Salvatore himself, with +skilful hand, had made the little girl's bed out of an old box, and in +the day one could sit upon it as if it were a sofa. The corner shelf +where the Madonna stood was adorned with bright-coloured paper flowers, +and there, too, the small treasures of the family lay spread out,--the +gilt brooch which Salvatore had presented to his wife when they were +married; the string of corals which her brother had brought from the +coral fishery in "Barbaria" (Algeria); the two gorgeous cups out of +which coffee was drunk on solemn occasions; and there, too, stood the +wonderful porcelain dog which Concetta had once received as a present +from a grand lady, and which was only taken down on Sundays to be +admired more closely. + +I did not understand how the mother managed it; but the little girls +were always neat and tidy in their outgrown clothes, and their faces +shone, so washed and polished were they. The eldest child, Concetta, had +been at the free school for more than half a year; and it was the +mother's pride to make her read aloud to me out of her book. She herself +had never learned to read, and although I allowed myself to be told that +Salvatore read very well, neither he nor I had ever ventured to try his +capabilities. Now, since Petruccio could hardly ever get out of bed, +Concetta had been obliged to give up going to school, so that she might +stay at home with her sick brother whilst _la mamma_ was at her work +away in the eating-house. This place could not be given up, as not only +did she get ten sous a day for washing dishes, but sometimes she could +bring home scraps under her apron, which no one else could turn to +account, but out of which she managed to make a capital soup for +Petruccio. + +Salvatore himself worked the whole day away in La Villette. He was +obliged to be at the stone-mason's yard at six o'clock every morning, +and it was much too far to go home during the mid-day rest. Sometimes it +happened that I was there when he came home in the evening after his +day's work, and then he looked very proudly at me when Petruccio +stretched out his arms towards him. He took his little son up so +carefully with his big horny hands, lifted him on his broad shoulders, +and tenderly leaned his sunburnt cheek against the sick little one's +waxen face. Petruccio sat quite quiet and silent on his father's arm; +sometimes he laid hold of his father's matted beard with his thin +fingers, and then Salvatore looked very happy. "_Vedete, Signor +dottore_," he then would say, "_n'è vero che sta meglio sta sera?_"[14] +He received his week's wages every Saturday, and then he always came +home triumphantly with a little toy for his son, and both father and +mother knelt down beside the bed to see how Petruccio liked it. +Petruccio, alas! liked scarcely anything. He took the toy in his hand, +but that was all. Petruccio's face was old and withered, and his solemn, +weary eyes were not the eyes of a child. I had never known him cry or +complain, but neither had I seen him smile except once when he was given +a great hairy horse--a horse which stretched out its tongue when one +turned it upside down. But it was not every day that a horse like that +could be got. + +Petruccio was four years old, but he could not speak. He would lie hour +after hour quite quiet and silent, but he did not sleep: his great eyes +stood wide open, and it seemed as if he saw something far beyond the +narrow walls of the room--"_Sta sempre in pensiero_,"[15] said +Salvatore. + +Petruccio was supposed to understand everything which was said around +him, and nothing of importance was undertaken in the little family +without first trying to discover Petruccio's opinion of the affair; and +if any one believed that they could read disapproval in the features of +the soulless little one, the whole question fell to the ground at once, +and it was afterwards found that Petruccio had almost always been right. + +On Sundays Salvatore sat at home, and there were usually some other +holiday-dressed workmen visiting him, and in low-toned voices they sat +and argued about wages, about news from _il paese_, and sometimes +Salvatore treated them to a litre of wine, and they played a game, _alla +scopa_. Sometimes it was supposed that Petruccio wished to look on, and +then his little bed was moved to the bench where they sat; and sometimes +Petruccio wished to be alone, and then Salvatore and his guests moved +out into the passage. I had, however, remarked that Petruccio's wish to +be alone, and the consequent removal of the company to the passage, +usually happened when the wife was away: if she were at home she saw +plainly that Petruccio wished his father to stay indoors and not go out +with the others. And Petruccio was right enough there, too. Salvatore +was not very difficult to persuade if one of the guests wished to treat +him in his turn. Once out in the passage, it happened often enough that +he went off to the wine-shop too. And once there, it was not so easy for +Salvatore to get away again. + +What was still more difficult was the coming home. His wife forgave him +certainly,--she had done it so many times before; but Salvatore knew +that Petruccio was inexorable, and the thicker the mist of intoxication +fell over him, the more crushed did he feel himself under Petruccio's +reproachful eye. No dissimulation helped here; Petruccio saw through it +at once. Petruccio could even see how much he had drunk, as Salvatore +himself confided to me one Sunday evening when I came upon him sitting +out in the passage, in the deepest repentance. Salvatore was, alas! +obviously uncertain in his speech that evening, and it did not need +Petruccio's perspicacity to see that he had drunk more than usual. I +asked him if he would not go in, but he wished to remain outside to get +_un poco d'aria_; he was, however, very anxious to know if Petruccio +were awake or not, and I promised to come out and tell him. I also +thought it was best he should sit out there till his head should clear +itself a little bit, though not so much for Petruccio's sake as to spare +his wife; and for that matter this was not the first time I had been +Salvatore's confidant in the like difficult situation. They who see the +lives of the poor near at hand cannot be very severe upon a working man +who, after he has toiled twelve hours a day the whole week, sometimes +gets a little wine into his head. It is a melancholy fact, but we must +judge it leniently; for we must not forget that here at least society +has hardly offered the poorer classes any other distraction. + +I therefore advised my friend Salvatore to sit outside till I came back, +and I went in alone. Inside sat the wife with her child of sorrow in her +arms; and the even breathing of the little girls could be heard from the +box. Petruccio was supposed to know me very well, and even to be fond of +me--although he had never shown it in any way, nor, as far as I knew, +had any sort of feeling ever been mirrored in his face. The mother's +eye, so clear-sighted in everything, nevertheless did not see that there +was no soul in the child's vacant eye; the mother's ear, so sensible to +each breath of the little one, yet did not hear that the confused +sounds which sometimes came from his lips would never form themselves +into human speech. Petruccio had been ill from his birth, his body was +shrunken, and no thought lived under the child's wrinkled forehead. +Unhappily I could do nothing for him; all I could hope for was that the +ill-favoured little one should soon die. And it looked as if his release +were near. That Petruccio had been worse for some time both the mother +and I had understood; and this evening he was so feeble that he was not +able to hold his head up. Petruccio had refused all food since +yesterday, and Salvatore's wife, when I came in, was just trying to +persuade him, with all the sweet words which only a mother knows, to +swallow a little milk; but he would not. In vain the mother put the +spoon to his mouth and said that it was wonderfully good, in vain did +she appeal to my presence, "_Per fare piacere al Signor +dottore_,"--Petruccio would not. His forehead was puckered, and his +eyes had a look of painful anxiety, but no complaint came from his +tightly compressed lips. + +Suddenly the mother gave a scream. Petruccio's face was distorted with +cramp, and a strong convulsion shook his whole little body. The attack +was soon over; and whilst Petruccio was being laid in his bed, I tried +to calm the mother as well as I could by telling her that children often +had convulsions which were of very little importance, and that there was +no further danger from this one now. I looked up and I saw Salvatore, +who stood leaning against the door-post. He had taken courage, and had +staggered to the door, and, unseen by us, he had witnessed that sight so +terrifying to unaccustomed eyes. He was pale as a corpse, and great +tears ran down the cheeks which had been so lately flushed with drink. +"_Castigo di Dio! Castigo di Dio!_"[16] muttered he with trembling +voice; and he fell on his knees by the door, as if he dared not approach +the feeble cripple who seemed to him like God's mighty avenger. + +The unconscious little son had once more shown his father the right way; +Salvatore went no more to the wine-shop. + +Petruccio grew worse and worse, and the mother no longer left his side. +And it was scarcely a month after she lost her place that Salvatore's +accident happened: he fell from a scaffolding and broke his leg. He was +taken to the Lariboisière Hospital; and the company for whom he worked +paid fifty centimes a day to his family, which they were not obliged to +do,--so that Salvatore's wife had to be very grateful for it. Every +Thursday--the visiting day at the hospital--she was with him for an +hour; and I too saw him now and then. The days went on, and with +Petruccio's mother want increased more and more. The porcelain dog +stood alone now on the Madonna's shelf; and it was not long before the +holiday clothes went the same way as the treasures--to the pawnshop. +Petruccio needed broth and milk every day, and he had them. The little +girls too had enough, I believe, to satisfy them more or less; but what +the mother herself lived upon I do not know. + +I had already tried many times to take Petruccio to the children's +hospital, where he would have been much better off, but as usual all my +powers of eloquence could not achieve this: the poor, as is well known, +will hardly ever be separated from their sick children. The lower middle +class and the town artisans have learnt to understand the value of the +hospital, but the really poor mother, whose culture is very low, will +not leave the side of her sick child: the exceptions to this rule are +extremely rare. + +And so came the 15th, the dreaded day when the quarter's rent must be +paid, when the working man drags his mattress to the pawn-shop, and the +wife draws off her ring, which in her class means much more than in +ours; the day full of terror, when numberless suppliants stand with +lowered heads before their landlord, and when hundreds of families do +not know where they will sleep the next night. + +I happened to pass by there on that very evening, and at the door stood +Salvatore's little girl crying all to herself. I asked her why she +cried, but that she did not know; at last, however, I learned that she +cried because "_la mamma piange tanto_."[17] Inside the yard I ran +against my friend Archangelo Fusco, the street-sweeper, who lived next +door to the Salvatores. He was occupied in dragging his bed out into the +yard, and I did not need to wait for his explanation to understand that +he had been evicted.[18] I asked him where he was going to move to, and +he hoped to sleep that night at the Refuge in the Rue Tocqueville, and +afterwards he must find out some other place. Inside sat Salvatore's +wife crying by Petruccio's bed, and on the table stood a bundle +containing the clothes of the family. The Salvatore family had not been +able to pay their rent, and the Salvatore family had been evicted. The +landlord had been there that afternoon, and had said that the room was +let from the morning of the next day. I asked her where she thought of +going, and she said she did not know. + +I had often heard the dreaded landlord talked of; the year before I had +witnessed the same sorrowful scene, when he had turned out into the +street a couple of unhappy families and laid hands upon the little they +possessed. I had never seen him personally, but I thought it might be +useful in my study of human nature to make his acquaintance. Archangelo +Fusco offered to take me to him, and we set forth slowly. On the way my +companion informed me that the landlord was "_molto ricco_"; besides the +whole court he owned a large house in the vicinity, and this did not +surprise me in the least, because I had long known that he secretly +carried on that most lucrative of all professions--money-lending to the +poor. Archangelo Fusco considered that he on his side had nothing to +gain by a meeting with the landlord, and after he had told me that +besides the rent he also owed him ten francs, we agreed that he should +only accompany me to the entrance. + +A shabbily-dressed old man, with a bloated, disagreeable face opened the +door carefully, and after he had looked me over, admitted me into the +room. I mentioned my errand, and asked him to allow Salvatore to settle +his rent in a few days' time. I told him that Salvatore himself lay in +the hospital, that the child was dying, and that his severity towards +these poor people was inhuman cruelty. He asked who I was, and I +answered that I was a friend of the family. He looked at me, and with an +ugly laugh he said that I could best show that by at once paying their +rent. I felt the blood rushing to my head, I hope and believe it was +only with anger, for one never ought to blush because one is not rich. I +listened for a couple of minutes whilst he abused my poor destitute +Italians with the coarsest words; he said that they were a dirty +thieving pack, who did not deserve to be treated like human beings; that +Salvatore drank up his wages; that the street-sweeper had stolen ten +francs from him; and that they all of them well deserved the misery in +which they lived. + +I asked if he needed this money just now, and from his answer I +understood that here no prayers would avail. He was rich; he owned over +50,000 francs in money, he said, and he had begun with nothing of his +own. It is a melancholy fact that the man who has risen from destitution +to riches is usually cruel to the poor: one would hope and believe the +contrary, but this is unhappily the case. + +My intention when I went there was to endeavour with diplomatic cunning +to effect a kind of arrangement, but alas! I was not the man for that. I +lost my temper altogether and went further than I had intended to do, as +usual. At first he answered me scornfully and with coarse insults, but +he soon grew silent, and I ended by talking alone I should say for +nearly an hour's time. It would serve no purpose to relate what I said +to him; there are occasions when it is legitimate to show one's anger in +action, but it is always stupid to show it in words. I said to him, +however, that this money which had been squeezed out of the poor was +the wages of sin; that his debt to all these poor human beings was far +greater than theirs to him. I pointed to the crucifix which hung against +the wall, and I said that if any divine justice was to be found on this +earth, vengeance could not fail to reach him, and that no prayers could +buy his deliverance from the punishment which awaited him, for his life +was stained with the greatest of all sins--namely cruelty towards the +poor. "And take care, old blood-sucker!" I shouted out at last with +threatening voice; "You owe your money to the poor, but you owe yourself +to the devil, and the hour is near when he will demand his own again!" I +checked myself, startled, for the man sank down in his chair as if +touched by an unseen hand, and pale as death, he stared at me with a +terror which I felt communicated itself to me. The curse I had just +called down rang still in my ears with a strange uncanny sound, which I +did not recognise; and it seemed to me as if there were some one else +in the room besides us two. + +I was so agitated that I have no recollection of how I came away. When I +got home it was already late, but I did not sleep a wink all night; and +even to this day I think with wonder of the waking dream which that +night filled me with an inconceivable emotion. I dreamt that I had +condemned a man to death. + +When I got there in the forenoon the blow had already fallen upon me. I +_knew_ what had happened although no human being had told me. All the +inhabitants of the yard were assembled before the door in eager talk. +"_Sapete Signor dottore?_"[19] they called out as soon as they saw me. + +"Yes, I know," answered I, and hurried to Salvatore's. I bent down over +Petruccio and pretended to examine his chest; but breathless I listened +to every word that the wife said to me. + +The landlord had come down there late yesterday evening, she said. The +little girl had run away and hidden herself when he came into the room; +but Concetta had remained behind her mother's chair, and when he asked +why they were so afraid of him, Concetta had answered because he was so +cruel to mamma. He had sat there upon the bench a long time without +saying a word, but he did not look angry, Salvatore's wife thought. At +last he said to her she need not be anxious about the rent; she could +wait to pay it till next time. And when he left he laid a five-franc +piece upon the table to buy something for Petruccio. Outside the door he +had met Archangelo Fusco with his bed on a hand-cart, preparing to take +himself off, and he had told the street-sweeper too that he could remain +in his lodging. He had asked Archangelo Fusco about me, and Archangelo +Fusco, who judged me with friendship's all-forgiving forbearance, had +said nothing unkind about me. He had then gone on his way, and +according to what was discovered by the police investigations he had, +contrary to his habit, passed the evening in the wine-shop close by, and +the porter had thought he looked drunk when he came home. As he lived +quite alone, and for fear of thieves or from avarice, attended to his +housekeeping himself, no one knew what had happened; but lights were +burning in the house the whole night, and when he did not come down in +the morning, and his door was fastened inside, they had begun to suspect +foul play and sent for the police. He was still warm when they cut him +down; but the doctor whom the police sent for said that he had already +been dead a couple of hours. They had not been able to discover the +smallest reason for his hanging himself. All that was known was that he +had been visited in the evening by a strange gentleman who had stayed +with him more than an hour, and the neighbours had heard a violent +dispute going on inside. No one in the house had seen the strange +gentleman before, and no one knew who he was. + + * * * * * + +The Roussel Yard belongs now to the dead man's brother; and to my joy +the new landlord's first action was to have the rooms in it repaired, so +that now they look more habitable. He also lowered the rents. + +The Salvatores moved thence when Petruccio died; but the place is still +full of Italians. I go there now and then; and in spite of all the talk +about the Paris doctors' _jalousie de métier_, I have never yet met any +one who tried to supplant me in this practice. + +[Footnote 14: "Is it not true that he is better to-night?"] + +[Footnote 15: "He lies always buried in thought."] + +[Footnote 16: "The punishment of God."] + +[Footnote 17: "Mamma cries so."] + +[Footnote 18: The landlord can take everything in such cases except the +bed and the clothes.] + +[Footnote 19: "Do you know, doctor?"] + + + + + BLACKCOCK-SHOOTING + + +The passion for the chase is man's passion for pursuing, and if possible +killing, animals living in liberty. The passion for the chase is the +expression of the same impulse of the stronger to overthrow the weaker +which goes through the whole animal series. The wild beast's lust for +murder has been tamed to unconscious instinct, and thousand years of +culture lie between our wild ancestors who slew each other with stone +axes for a piece of raw fish, and the sportsman of our day. But it is +only the method which has been refined, the principle is the same. + +The passion for killing is an animal instinct, and as such, impossible +to eradicate. But it behoves man, conscious of his high rank, to +struggle against this vice of his wild childhood, this phantom from the +grave in which sleep the progenitors of his race. + +I cannot give you here in detail my proposals for new game laws--the +matter is not yet quite ripe--but I am very willing to explain the +fundamental principle on which they rest. I maintain that the very great +start which mankind has gained through the law of natural selection has +made the struggle between the man and the animal _too unequal to be +fair_; I maintain that killing animals is an unmanly and an ignoble +occupation. + +Yes, but as regards wild beasts, wolves, foxes, etc., you don't really +mean to stand up for them? Of course I do! First of all it has never +been proved that the wild animals attacked man the first. And in the +hopeless, defensive warfare in which the animals with vanishing strength +struggle against mankind, all my sympathies are unhesitatingly given to +the weaker. Yes, it is quite true that now and then they take a hen or +a sheep from us; but what is that in comparison with all we take from +them, from woods and fields which were meant to be their larder as well +as ours? And do not talk too much about the ferocity of the wolf, you +men, who have the heart treacherously to put out poisoned food for the +starving animal! Perhaps you have not seen this way of killing wolves, +but I have. I have seen the victim's agony written in the snow; seen how +he has walked a little way and then begun to totter; has fallen, and +with ebbing strength tried to get up again; in mad delirium has rolled +in the snow whilst the poison was burning his bowels, and then at last +has lain down to die. And I have watched the trapper when he joyfully +came to seize his prey. + +Do not talk too much about the cunning of the fox, you men who have +invented the spring-traps which cut into his leg when he tries to take +the lying bait which you have set out for him. In England you have not +seen this way of catching foxes, but I have. I have seen the prisoner +struggling with his last strength to get free, with the blood flowing +from his wounded leg, cut to the bone by the sharp iron; I have heard +the animal's moan far off in the night, and I have seen the footmarks in +the snow of his comrades, who have anxiously roamed around. + +"But this is horrible! how is it possible that such a thing can be +allowed?" + +"Yes, you are right; it is horrible; but this is the death which awaits +many foxes both in Russia and Scandinavia, and in Germany too." + +"In England it would be considered a crime to kill a fox in that way." + +"Yes, I know well that England is the country for lovers of animals. +What a fine graceful animal is the fox----" + +"Only think what would become of the noblest of all sports, that of +fox-hunting----" + +Fox-hunting! and you call that a noble sport? I will tell you what +fox-hunting is--no, I think I will not tell you. I will only say that +were I a fox, I think I would rather try to cross the Channel and become +a continental fox than to be hunted to death by your hounds and your +spurred horses. And the spur which urges you on, what is that? The love +of galloping away on a fiery horse in wild chase over hedge and +ditch--ah! I understand that joy well! But why must you have an animal +flying in terror for its life before you? Why not leave the pursuers and +the pursued to themselves if the latter is doomed to die and has to die? +Why do you wish to witness his desperate struggle for life against his +manifold stronger enemy? And why, if everything be all right, do you +often enough feel something akin to satisfaction if by chance the fox +escapes? I only ask, I dare not answer--I dare not for fear of my +Editor. And I think we had better drop this subject altogether; it is +too dangerous a one to discuss before an English public. + +Once when travelling in Norway I heard of a famous man, the wealthiest +of that country. I was told he had made his fame and his money as a +promoter of a new method of catching whales. Nature to protect the +whales has given them their slippery coat and their thick lining of +blubber, but that man has overreached Nature. He kills them with +dynamite. You ask, as I did, when I heard the horrible story, if that +man has not been hanged. Alas, my poor friend! we do not understand the +world at all; the man has by no means been hanged. True that a cord has +been put round his neck, but it was the cord of Commander of St. +Olaf--_sapristi!_ they are not very particular in that country! I am +very sorry for him, but were I to meet that man I would decline to shake +hands with him. What have the whales done to man to be treated in this +way? Have they not always been inoffensive and harmless ever since that +kind old whale who happened to swallow the prophet Jonah, and then spat +him carefully back on the shore? Only think what a horrible idea to +blast in pieces a sensitive body as one blasts in pieces a rock! Think +what a barbarous conception of man's position towards animals is here +allowed to be put in practice, think of that--before the man is promoted +to a Grand Cross of his St. Olaf! + +Before giving the last touches to my new game-laws--the fundamental +principles of which I have hinted to you--I am perfectly willing to +listen to any legitimate claims of the sportsman, and I shall be glad to +try to satisfy them if they do not harm the animals. But on one point I +am firm. Under no pretext shall children be allowed to shoot, on account +of the great development this occupation gives to the instinctive +cruelty of the child, and the rude colour it lends to the formation of +the whole character. Kindness to our inferiors we ought to be taught as +children; life will surely teach us to grow hard enough. Nor are +children to be allowed to watch shooting; for men's faces turn so ugly +when they are pursuing a flying animal, and the child should be +protected as much as possible from the sight of anything unbeautiful. + +Ah! I remember so well a little lad up in Sweden who had escaped from +school one clear spring morning. He saw how the trees were budding and +the meadows in flower, and high up in the air he heard the song of the +first skylark. The boy lay down silently in the grass and listened with +thankfulness and joy. He knew well what the skylark sang: it sang that +the long winter was over, and that it was springtime in the North. And +he stared at the little bird high up in the bright air; he stared at it +till the tears came into his eyes. He would have liked to kiss the wings +which had borne it far over the wide sea home again; he would have liked +to warm it at his heart in the frosty spring nights; he would have liked +to guard its summer nest from all evil. Yes, surely the skylark could +have remained longer in the land of eternal summer! But it knew that up +in the cold North there wandered about men longing for spring breezes +and summer sun, for flowers and song of birds. So it flew home, the +courageous little bird, home to the frozen field from where the pale +morning sun melted the white frost-flowers of the night, where primroses +and anemones were waking up from their winter sleep. With the head +hidden under the down of its wings it kept out the cold of the night, +and when the horizon brightened, it flew up and sang its joyful morning +hymn--sang Nature's promise of life-bringing sun. But the next day the +boy read in the newspaper under the title: _Forerunner of +Spring_--"Yesterday the first skylark of the year was shot, and brought +to the Kings palace." Man had killed the innocent little bird on whose +wings Spring had flown to the North, and whose little songster's heart +was beating with Nature's jubilant joy! And in the palace they had eaten +the gray-coated little messenger of summer! That day the boy swore his +Hannibal oath against shooting. And when he fell asleep that night he +dreamt about a republican rebellion. + + * * * * * + +Do not believe that this is nothing but theoretical nonsense--that I am +discussing matters of which I know nothing. For there was a time when I +felt the fascination of the gun myself; there was a time when I too was +a great shot. The man who is now sitting here and scribbling about his +love for animals, shoots no more; but it is with an indulgent smile on +his lips that he looks back upon the whimsical sportsman of bygone days. + +Yes, I have been a sportsman--a great sportsman. I have often made long +journeys to join shooting parties, and more than once there was no one +in the whole company who fired off as many cartridges as I did. All my +best friends were amongst sportsmen, and it was seldom indeed I failed +to be present on the opening day of the season. We had lots of good +sport about my place, but the best was blackcock-shooting. Do you know +anything about blackcock-shooting? A very fine sport. How many pleasant +recollections have I not from those happy sporting days! how many joyful +rambles through the silent forests! how many peaceful hours passed away +in half-waking dreams, with the head leaning against a mossy hillock +and soft murmuring pines all around! And how happy, too, was my poor old +Tom during these never-to-be-forgotten days of sport! How glad was he to +scamper about on the soft moss instead of the stones of the streets! how +contentedly he lay down to harmonious contemplations by my side--so near +that I could now and then caress his beautiful head and catch a friendly +glance from his half-open eyes. He knew I was always in splendid temper +on those shooting days, and that was all he required to be perfectly +happy himself. But if I begin to speak about my dear old dog we shall +never arrive at the blackcock, and it is about them I want to speak +to-day. + +The gamekeeper had long known the whereabouts of the birds, and +carefully exploring the woods he had often enough heard the call of the +hen; the blackcock chicks had, so to speak, grown up under his eyes, and +he had tried in all sorts of ways to take care of them, the good +gamekeeper! And now since they had grown up, the important thing had +been to keep them undisturbed lest they should be dispersed. We +sportsmen came down the day before the opening day, and well do I +remember those pleasant evenings, with a stroll in the forest to clear +the lungs from the dust of the town, and then supper in the gamekeeper's +cottage in excellent company, flavoured with stories of first-rate shots +and marvellous adventures. At first I used to be rather shy, and would +silently sit and listen to the others' wonderful tales, but I soon got +to learn the trick, and having once mastered the technical terms, I had +shot every kind of game at every conceivable range. After dinner, when +we got hold of our pipes, I had killed swallows with bullets at +tremendous distances, and my friends began to consult me about guns and +cartridges and all the other paraphernalia, and were most anxious to +have my advice about the arrangements for the next day. Tom lay beside +us in the grass and stared with solemn dignity at the company, winking +knowingly at me with one eye when no one else was looking, whilst I was +telling them about his pedigree and some of his most astounding +achievements. When we had delivered ourselves of all our stories, and +every one's power of invention had come to an end, we began to yawn, and +soon dispersed to our sleeping-quarters to gain strength for next day's +hard work. + +I remember so well my first blackcock. I had happened to come upon the +birds during a short walk with the gamekeeper in the afternoon, and I +had heard the mother's anxious call, and had seen some clumsy blackcock +children following after her into the forest. I was so excited that I +could not close my eyes all night, and could think of nothing but +blackcock. Outside, the enchanting summer night allured me to its +darkening fells and mysterious woods, and it was as though I could see +before my eyes the condemned blackcock where they sat and slept their +last sleep. Everything was still in the cottage, and, silent as ghosts, +Tom and I glided out armed to the teeth. Yes, I could see the blackcock +so distinctly before me, that I had scarcely reached the glen where we +had come upon them in the afternoon than I fired off my gun. No +blackcock fell. But hardly had the dreadful thunder of the gun died away +than the whole forest woke up. Startled small birds fluttered backward +and forward deeper into the brushwood. A little squirrel peeped +cautiously between two branches, dropped in his fright the fir-cone he +was crunching, and then jumped hastily away. The nasty smoke spread with +the wind farther in the wood, and pinched the nose of a hare who sat +half-asleep under a bush. "I smell human blood," said the hare to +himself, like the giant to Tom Thumb, and off he went in a tremendous +hurry to find a safer refuge for the day's rest. Tom and I watched him +with interest as he stopped short in catching sight of us, stamped with +his paws, and then scampered off. The hare has the reputation of being +rather ugly; we noticed, on the contrary, that he was quite graceful in +his elegant leap over a fallen fir-tree, and I was sorry he did not give +us a little longer time in which to look at him. It is not every day one +gets a hare; and very satisfied with the beginning of our day, we went +on farther into the forest, keeping a sharp look-out for the blackcock. +We soon left the forest track and wandered along over the moss, soft as +velvet, without the slightest idea where we were going. So we came upon +a little brook which cheerfully murmured in our ears as he hurried +along, would we not like to accompany him down to the lake? and that we +did, to make sure that he did not go astray in the gloom between +hillocks and stones. We could not see him, but we heard him singing to +himself the whole time. Now and then he stopped short at a jutting rock +or fallen tree and waited for us, and then he rushed down the vale +quicker than ever to make up for lost time. Yes, it was easy enough for +him, who had nothing to carry but some flowers and dry leaves, to rush +off with such a speed; he should have had that confounded gun to drag +with him, he would then have seen how easy a matter it was! And thus it +happened that he ran away from us. We did not know what to do next, so +we fired off a shot again. No blackcock fell. But we had scarcely time +to load the gun again before we came upon the whole covey. Fancy if I +had not had time to load! But they got it all right. There was a +tremendous whirring up in the tree-tops, and on heavy wings they +dispersed in different directions. We thought the blackcock was a very +fine bird, who looks exceedingly well in a forest. + +Hallo! There he came again, our friend the brook, dancing toward us +happier than ever, and I bent down to kiss his night-cool face just as +he glided past me. Ah! now there was no longer any danger that he should +lose his way, for already the night had fled away on swift dwarf-feet to +hide itself deeper in the forest under the thick firs. Around us birches +and aspens put on their green coats, and amongst the moss and fern at +our feet small flowers stretched their pretty heads out of the gloom and +looked at us as we passed. And deep below in the misty valley a lake +opened its eyelid. + +So we got sick of blackcock-shooting and we sat down on a mossy stone to +read a chapter of Nature's bible whilst the sun rose above the fir-tops +and the sky brightened over our heads. + +The disturber of the peace sat there quite quiet, silently wondering to +himself how it could be possible that men exist who have the heart to +bring sorrow and death into a friendly forest. And the small birds also +began to wonder, wonder whether that dreadful thunder which awoke them +was only a bad dream; the whole forest was so silent again, and +perchance it might not be so dangerous to try a little song! And so they +took courage one after another and began each to sing their tune. Some +were perfect artists and sang long arias with trills and variations; +some sang folk-songs; some knew nothing but a little refrain, and that +they did not in the least mind repeating over and over again; and some +only knew how to hum a single little note, but they were just as merry +for all that. And now and again one could hear among all the soprani a +rich melodious alto who sang an old ballad--listen! that is the +greatest artist in the whole forest; that is the blackbird! + +So I thanked my little wild friends for their song; they knew well how +happy I felt with them. But I was obliged to turn home again. I told +them that I was a sportsman and that I had to be at the rendezvous with +my party at seven sharp. I told them to be prudent, to listen carefully +for the sound of our voices and to fly on quick wings as soon as we +approached--they must be aware that men are so unmusical that they do +not know how to appreciate a soulful artist; that they are so unkind, +one can never know what may happen. And the merry squirrels, the +red-skinned little acrobats of the woods, I told them also to be on the +look-out, to take care not to crunch their fir-cones too loudly and not +to peep too much from behind their tree--they must know that men are so +cold in their hearts that to keep warm they wrap themselves in furs +made from their small red coats. I had also prepared a speech for the +blackcock, but, as I never caught sight of them again, I could not +deliver it. But I had the impression that they had grasped the situation +thoroughly, and that was all I wanted of them. + +I was punctual at the rendezvous, and the party set off in excellent +spirits. We roamed about the whole day, strode miles and miles with our +huge game-bags dangling behind our backs, sank knee-deep into morasses +and bogs, climbed over hundreds of hedges and tore our faces with the +branches of the tangled brushwood. We were all to meet in the evening at +the shooting-box, where supper (with roast blackcock) was to be served, +and where also, idyllic enough, ladies were to come to give the +sportsmen welcome, and to share the spoil. + +As one sportsman after the other, hungry and disappointed, reached the +meeting-place, dragging his gun after him, those who were already there +looked eagerly at his bag. I was one of the last, and I saw at once that +the situation was gloomy. I was also in a bad temper, having just +discovered that I had unfortunately left my gun behind somewhere, and I +could not remember in the least where it might be. I was very +disagreeably surprised to see one of the party with a cry of triumph +seize hold of my bag. The bag looked really as if it were filled, but +the fact was I was absolutely unprepared for such importunate +examination. I protested and said it contained nothing but small birds +and squirrels, but he took the bag from me and the whole party watched +with avaricious eyes when he thrust in his hand and fumbled in the bag. +After he had pulled out my whole little shooting-library, Heine and +Alfred de Musset and my old friend Leopardi, all the sportsmen looked at +each other with amazement. And I quite lost my head. They became +absolutely furious when, with my unfortunate absent-mindedness, I +happened to let out that I had made a little private excursion before +sunrise and by chance had come across some blackcock. "_But had you not +time to fire at them?_" they cried, shaking me by the arms and pulling +at my coat. "_Yes, of course, I had time to fire, but the blackcock had +also time to get away._" "_Did you not aim at the thick of the covey?_" +they yelled with bloodshot eyes and contorted faces. "_No, I think that +I aimed at a little cloud, and, for the matter of that, I think I hit +it, for a moment later I saw that the sky was beautifully blue._" My +remark about the cloud must have been to the point, for it made them +absolutely dumbfounded; they only shook their heads in silence and +stared at me while I put my books in the bag again. I had not time to +stay longer, having to go and look at the effects of the sunset deeper +in the wood, and I politely begged them to excuse me for breaking up +the party. + +I had not gone many steps before there broke out a frightful dispute +amongst them as to who was guilty of having brought me amongst them, +and, as far as I could make out, they called me "that idiot." + +I was never invited to that place any more. For the matter of that, it +was an observation I often made--I was never invited more than once to +any place. To my astonishment I saw myself cut out from one house-party +after another, and there sprang up a rumour that I brought bad luck with +me. Isn't it odd, this often-observed tendency to superstition amongst +sportsmen? + + * * * * * + +I have really no time to linger any longer over my new game-laws, for I +have so many other reforms concerning the animals at hand. Only think +how much there is to be done for domestic animals also! The division of +labour forms here a most important chapter. The domestic animals will +only have to work a certain number of hours a day, in proportion to +their strength, and not, as now, work themselves to death. And so when +age comes upon them men will have to try to give back to the tired +animals a small part of all that these humble fellow-workmen have given +to them as long as they were able. Surely the domestic animals belong to +the family; and just as the old labourer is allowed to end his days in +peace in his little cottage, so shall the old horse, when his eyes begin +to grow dim and his legs to get stiff, be allowed to rest in his stall; +and now and then one should go and pet the old servant with grateful +hands, and give him his bit of bread as before. The old worn-out ox, +surely he too might be allowed at last to glean a little dry hay from +the fields which he in his strong days has so many times ploughed for +the seed, which year after year filled the farmer's barn with golden +sheaves and sweet clover. And the kind, sympathetic little donkeys, +whose whole life is a series of self-renunciation, and whose melancholy +is an unheard protest against the degradation into which they have +fallen--surely I shall not forget you in my reforms, my poor Italian +friends! And keep up your courage, resigned little donkeys! your cause +is a good one, the tyranny of barbarians shall come to an end one day, +and the oppressed animals shall be given back their right to enjoy life, +even they! And the day will come when you are to be reinstated in the +high social position which your misunderstood intelligence and your +subtle humour entitle you to hold, and when you shall throw back in the +faces of your oppressors the epithet which short-sighted men now apply +to you! + +The sanitary condition of animals is to be improved a great deal. +Hospitals and asylums for sick and aged animals are to be founded. Up +till now I know personally of only two almshouses, that in London for +"lost and starving dogs"--where they are not so badly cared for--and +that in Florence for aged and infirm cats--it includes a _crêche_ for +lost and orphan kittens (it has been founded by an English lady, I +believe). + +The jurisdiction is to be entirely changed. Flogging is only to be +allowed in certain exceptional cases, and only after serious +remonstrances and repeated warnings. There is nothing in the whole of +creation so stubborn as a school-boy when he tries his best; well, now, +when one is no longer allowed to flog him, why may one then be allowed +to beat the animal whose duller perception ought so much the more to +protect him from the birch-rod? + +Capital execution--I recognise its necessity--is to be changed from +arbitrary barbarity to an institution watched over by mildness and +tenderness for the condemned animal. The animal-executioners should form +a corporation apart, kept under the severest supervision. The profession +is a repulsive but a necessary one, and the individuals who enlist +themselves on its roll deserve high wages. + + * * * * * + +It was never meant that man should be an autocratic tyrant in the great +society which peoples the world, but a constitutional monarch. I had +dreamt of a republic, but I admit that our earth is not yet ripe for +this form of government. Yes, man is the ruler of the earth; always +victorious, he carries his blood-stained banner round the world, and his +kingdom has no longer any limit. But man is an upstart--I, at any rate, +cannot believe all his talk about his high birth. He will try to take us +in by saying that he is a foundling who was mysteriously put into the +nursery of creation, and that he is of far nobler origin than anybody +else on the whole earth. It is true there is something peculiar about +him, and that he is domineering and arrogant: that he showed early +enough. Even when a baby, and lying at Nature's mother-breast, he pushed +away the other children of the earth, and drank the strength of life in +deep draughts. Hardly could he crawl before he scratched his kind nurse +in the face and beat his weaker foster-brothers. So he grew up to be a +true bully, a brutish Protanthropos, breaking down each obstacle, +subduing with the right of the stronger all opposition. And the law of +selection enlarged his facial angle, and culture put arms in his hands. +How could the sickle-like claws of _Ursus spelæus_ (cave-bear) prevail +against his trident studded with thorns or twig-spikes or set with +razor-edged shells? What could the six-inch long canines of Machærodus +do against his sharpened flint? And so they disappeared, one after the +other, these vanquished giants, into the gloom of past ages. But the +power of man expanded more and more, and higher and higher flew his +thoughts. Now the earth lies at his feet, and he prepares to assault +heaven! And he has been so spoiled by all his success, so refined by all +civilisation, that he turns up his aristocratic nose whenever one +reminds him of his childhood. And his humble old ancestors, among whom +his cradle stood, and all his poor relations who, homeless, rove about +the earth, these he will not own at all, and he is so hard to them. But +man is no longer young--no one knows exactly how many hundred thousand +years he carries on his back; but I think it is time for him to reflect +a little upon all the evil he has done in his days, and try to grow a +little kinder in his old age. The day will come when the last man will +lie down to die, and when a new-crowned king of creation will mount the +throne--_le roi est mort, vive le roi!_ So falls the twilight of ages +round the sarcophagus where the dead monarch sleeps in the Pantheon of +Palæontology. The dust covers the inscription which records all the +honorary titles of the dead, and the standards which witnessed his +victories moulder away. Up there in the new planet sits a professor, and +lectures about the remains from prehistoric times, and he hands round to +his audience a fragile cranium, which is carefully examined by wondering +students. It is our cranium, with that upright facial angle and that +large brain-pan which was our pride! And the professor makes a casual +remark about _Homo Sapiens_, and he points out the fang which is still +to be seen in the jaw. + +We learn from the long story of the development of our race that the +hunter-stage was the lowest of all human conditions, the most purely +animal. The pursuing and killing of animals for mere pleasure is a +humiliating reminiscence from this time of savagery. Man's right over +the animal is limited to his right of defence, and his right of +existence. The former can only very seldom be evoked in our country; the +latter cannot be evoked by our class. + +A man of culture recognises his obligations towards animals as a +compensation for the servitude he imposes on them. The pursuing and +killing of animals for mere pleasure is incompatible with the fulfilment +of these obligations. Sympathy extending beyond the limit of humanity, +_i.e._ kindness to animals, is one of the latest moral qualities +acquired by mankind. This sympathy is absolutely lacking in the lowest +human races, and the degree of this sympathy possessed by an individual +marks the distance which separates him from his primitive state of +savagery. + +An individual who enjoys the pursuing and killing of animals is thus to +be considered as a transitional type between a savage and a man of +culture. He forms the missing link in the evolution of the mind from +brutishness to humanity. + + + + + TO ---- + + "The firmest friend, + The first to welcome, foremost to defend." + + Byron. + + +We have camped together for the whole of ten years. We have stuck to +each other in both joy and sorrow; honestly we have shared good and +evil. + +When I am happy he is also happy; he does not for a moment consider if +he has any personal reason to cheer up; he doesn't ask for any +explanations; he only thinks of partaking in my pleasure--only a glance, +a nod, or a single friendly word is enough for him, and his whole honest +face lights up with my joy. And when I am depressed and miserable, he +then sits so sorrowfully by my side. He does not try to console me, for +he knows how little words of pity avail; he says nothing, for he knows +that silence is a comfort when one is sad. He only looks steadfastly at +me, and maybe puts his big head on my knee. He knows that he cannot +fathom what it is that worries me; that his poor, dark brain cannot +follow me in all I am thinking about; but his faithful heart anyhow +wants to claim his share of my burden. + +Others think I am quick-tempered and angry, and pay me back in the same +way; his patient indulgence knows how to forgive everything; his +friendship stands the trial against all injustice. Am I nervous and hard +on him when I leave him, he rewards evil with good and comes just as +friendly and caressingly to meet me when I come back. Others sit in +judgment over my many faults, and have only words of blame for whatever +I take in hand; he tries with loving eagerness to find out the least +ugly side of everything; he refuses to believe me capable of anything +wrong. When I defend a cause, I am too often considered to be in the +wrong; but he thinks always as I do. In the moment of adversity no +friends are to be found; he is always at my side ready to defend me +against any peril, happy, if required, to give his life for mine. + +He never complains; he is always satisfied, however uncomfortable he is, +if only he may be allowed to be with me. He can sit for hours out in the +street waiting patiently, in cold and rain, whilst I am visiting some of +my acquaintances where he is not received. Is there no room in the +carriage when I drive, he runs just as cheerfully behind me; he is even +delighted when I am driving; he is proud of me; he thinks it looks +grand. Do I go out in my boat, without hesitation he jumps in the water +after me; he swims as long as he has any breath left, and when his +strength begins to give out, with a last effort he raises himself out of +the water to look after the boat, but to return to the shore he never +dreams of. When I travel by train, he sits, without complaining, cramped +up in his little compartment for however long it may be, without a scrap +of comfort, with the sharp wind blowing straight through, sore in all +his bones with the continual shaking, softened by no springs, black in +his face as a sweep from the smoke of the engine. And anyhow, whenever +the train stops, he shouts out cheerfully that he is there, and all well +on board. Have I time to run forward and look at him, he peeps out +patiently and contentedly through his little barred window, and presses +his dry nose against my hand--never a hint that he is aware how +uncomfortable he is, compared to me in my luxurious wagon-lit; never the +slightest complaint against the railway company who has done so +surprisingly little for travellers of his class. + +But if he, out of delicacy for me, has never wanted to make any +complaint, I do not see why I should be kept back from doing so by any +such consideration. And I may as well tell you that I am thinking of +getting up a petition to protest against _the unfair distribution of +comfort for railway travellers_. I have been inquiring about it for the +many years I have knocked about on the railways of all nations, and I am +pretty sure that I may count upon a great number of signatures from +travellers concerned. Man, who always takes the best of everything, and +thinks of nobody but himself, has also succeeded in securing all sorts +of advantages from the railway companies--advantages which exclusively +benefit him, but which are a crying injustice towards other travellers, +who have also paid for their tickets, and consequently have a right, +even they, to claim the fulfilment of the obligations which the railway +company has accepted towards them. If I am waked up in the night in my +comfortable berth by the heating apparatus having gone wrong, and find +the compartment cold, I have only to complain to the conductor; but I +have innumerable times heard loud complaints from the dog-compartments +about the ice-cold night-wind blowing straight through them, and I have +never noticed any one pay the slightest attention to this. If my +neighbour lights a cigar, and having blown a cloud of smoke in my face, +asks me if I object to his smoking, although it is not a smoking +compartment, I have only to answer "Yes," to get rid of the smoke; but +who has ever asked the dogs if they object to the thick fumes of coal +which the engine puffs in their faces the whole time, where the poor +fellows sit in the front van? + +All trains stop at certain places for refreshment, and we have only to +run into the buffet to eat our fill; but is there any one who knows how +difficult it is to get a little food and a drink of water for a +travelling dog? The minutes are counted, and you are served in turn as +you come to the buffet, you believe. No, not in the very least, the dogs +are always skipped over, even if they have their money lying ready +before them on the table; and as often as not, when their turn comes the +bell rings, and the train is off. When I was in the first stage of my +human knowledge--the Idealistic--I always asked for some food for my +dog; that was no good, no waiter was kind enough to listen to that. +Later, when in the second stage--that of Vanishing Illusions--I asked at +once for a beefsteak for my dog; that was not much better, the chances +of getting anything are very small. In the third stage--that of +Hopeless Pessimism--I immediately ask for dinner for two, and turn two +chairs at the _table d'hôte_; Tappio disappears instantly under the +table, and I hand down to him his portion as it is placed before his +chair. I have acquired such a practice in this that nobody notices where +the food goes, and silent as a ghost, Tappio swallows down both cutlets +and pastry in one gulp--the only thing which has made him lose +countenance has been the, in Italy, not uncommon practice of serving +ice-cream, of the inconvenience of which, at railway dinners, I agree +with him. I remember how once in Macon--the Paris-Turin night-train used +to stop there for supper--we had as neighbours a peaceful family of +bourgeois, the members of which, one after the other, dropped their +knives and forks as the dinner proceeded, and stared at me and my +rapidly vanishing double portions with increasing amazement. At last a +little old lady, who was of the party, exclaimed, quite aloud, "_Voilà +un homme que je ne voudrais pas inviter à dîner, il serait capable de +manger les assiettes aussi!_" + + * * * * * + +Yes, we have seen a good deal of the world; we have met many people on +our way; our experience of life is large enough. There was a time when +we were ambitious we also, very ambitious. We dreamt of prize medals and +certificates for both of us, of Persian carpets under our feet, and of +roasted ortolans flying straight into our mouths. That time is past, one +of us is already gray, but no roasted ortolans have flown into our +mouths, nor any Persian carpets spread themselves under our feet. And +when the floor feels too cold, I lay down my cloak for my comrade to lie +upon. And we begin to realise what man is worth. We used to be idealists +because we believed that others were idealists. We were gentle and +harmless as lambs because we believed that others were so. We were +philanthropists. But we have discovered that we were mistaken. Men are +not at all kind to each other. They talk so much about friendship, but +there are only very few of them who are capable of realising the true +signification of this word. + +But, to be sure, they laugh if one gives to a dog's faithful devotion +the name of friendship, if with thankful recognition one strives to +repay as far as lies in one's power the humble comrade whom they call +but a soulless animal, whose fine, sensitive thought they call instinct, +and for whose honest, noble soul they deny all right to live any longer +than his faithful dog-heart beats. + +If this be not virtue, this all-sacrificing, all-self-denying, +all-injustice-forgetting love,--well, then, I don't know what virtue +means; and should his only reward for a whole life's faithful devotion +consist in being shot in his old age and buried under a tree in the +park at home, then all I can say is, that I do not believe that we +either will get beyond the grave where our remains will one day be laid. + + + + + MONSIEUR ALFREDO + + +I do not in the least know how I happened to come upon the modest little +café, nor do I know how it came to pass that during the whole of that +year I frequented no other. + +I wonder whether it was not on account of Monsieur Alfredo that I became +an habitué there. + +He evidently had his luncheon later than I, as I had already had time to +smoke a couple of cigarettes before he made his appearance at the Café +de l'Empereur, upright and trim in his tightly-buttoned frock-coat, a +roll of manuscript under his arm, and his gray hair in neat curls +surrounding his wrinkled, childlike face. The waiter brought him his +little cup of coffee and placed the chess-board between us. Monsieur +Alfredo, with old-fashioned courtesy, inquired after my health, and I on +my side received satisfactory assurances as to his well-being. I busied +myself in placing the chess-men, and whilst I groped under the table to +find that pawn which somehow or other had always fallen to the ground, +Monsieur Alfredo rapidly produced his lump of sugar out of his pocket +and put it into his cup. + +We always played two games. I am singularly unlucky in games, and the +old man, who loved chess, beamed all over every time he checkmated me. +He played very slowly, but with amazing boldness, and even after having +played with him every day for months together, I was still incapable of +forming an opinion as to which of us played the worse. What puzzled me +most of all was the fact that Monsieur Alfredo seldom or never played +anything but kings and queens; occasionally, with reluctance, he would +put the knights, castles, and bishops into requisition, but as to the +pawns, he appeared to ignore them altogether. I had never before seen +anybody play in this way, and often enough had I to look very sharp to +make sure of losing. + +The conversation turned on literature, and above all, the theatre. +Monsieur Alfredo was extremely exacting as to dramatic art, and approved +of no other form than the tragic. He was exceedingly difficult as to +authors. I was just then full of Victor Hugo, but Monsieur Alfredo +considered him much too sentimental. Racine and Corneille he thought +better of, although he gave me to understand he considered them lacking +in power. He despised comedy and refused point-blank to admit Scribe, +Augier, Labiche, or Dumas as celebrities. One only needed to mention the +name of Offenbach or Lecocq to make the otherwise peaceful Monsieur +Alfredo fall into a complete rage; he then burst forth into Italian, +which he never spoke unless greatly excited; he denounced them as +_Birbanti_, and _Avvelenatori_,[20]--they had with their music spread +the poison which had killed the good taste of a whole generation, and +they were, to a great extent, responsible for the downfall of tragedy in +our days. + +He seemed well informed in everything concerning the Paris theatres, and +was evidently a frequent playgoer himself; I had once or twice hinted +that we should go to the theatre together some evening, but had observed +that Monsieur Alfredo never seemed willing to understand me. + +As soon as we had finished our second game, Monsieur Alfredo produced +four sous wrapped up in paper, called the waiter and asked what he had +to pay, and laid his four sous on the table. The Café de l'Empereur was +not a very expensive place, as you may perceive; on the Boulevard St. +Michel they charged you eight sous for a cup of coffee, here you only +had to pay four if you took it without milk or sugar--Monsieur Alfredo +had long ago confided to me his experience that sugar took away half the +fragrance of coffee. I, who was not so particular, had both sugar and +milk with my coffee, and cognac besides, but never once had I succeeded +in getting Monsieur Alfredo to accept a glass from me. I had tried to +tempt him with everything the Café de l'Empereur could offer, but the +old gentleman had always declined courteously but firmly. + +I knew that Monsieur Alfredo was an author, and that it was the +manuscript of a five-act tragedy he carried under his arm. I have always +admired authors and artists, and I tried my best to make him understand +how flattered I felt by his society. I had long ago told him everything +about myself and my affairs, but Monsieur Alfredo showed for a long +while a singular reticence in all that concerned himself. Sometimes, on +leaving the café together, I had tried to accompany him for a while, +but, once in the streets, he always wished me good-bye, and I could +easily see that I was not wanted. I had also expressed a wish to be +allowed to call upon him, but had been given to understand that his time +was very limited just then, and feeling sure that the tragedy was the +cause of it all, I took good care not to disturb him. + +He never came to the café in the evening, so I then lounged there alone +smoking. Every now and then I dined with some of my fellow-students down +on the boulevards, but as true inhabitants of the Quartier Latin, it was +only seldom that we crossed the Seine. One evening, however, some one at +the dinner-table proposed that we should all drive down to the Variétés +to see Offenbach's _Les Brigands_, and somehow or another they carried +me off with them. + +I believe the whole pit was full of students. We were in tremendous +spirits, and applauded quite as vigorously as the _claque_ which +occupied the row behind us. It seemed to me as though I were playing my +old friend from the Café de l'Empereur false, and I felt how he would +despise me had he seen me, and I made up my mind not to tell him +anything about it. But I could not help it, I roared with laughter the +whole time. The last words of a song were hardly over before the +_claque_ broke out with a deafening applause, and we and the whole pit +followed their lead with right good will. And so when we collapsed and +could move our arms no longer, the _claque_ had recuperated its +strength, and the brilliant farce was hailed once more with thundering +applause by the joyless spectators behind us, where a whole chorus of +poor devils shouted "bravo, bravo!" for next day's bread. + +Suddenly I was startled by a "bravo, bravo!" which came a little after +the rest. I turned rapidly round, and ran my eye over the _claque_, and +then to the astonishment of my comrades, I took my hat and slunk out of +the theatre. + +The joyous music rang in my ears the whole way home, but I felt that +tears were not far from my eyes that night. + +No, I never told Monsieur Alfredo that I had been to see _Les Brigands_. +I never alluded again in our conversations to Offenbach and Lecocq, and +never more did I try to accompany the old gentleman to the theatre. + +Next day, after we had finished our game of chess, I followed him home +at some little distance. I went to his house that same evening, and +whilst I stood there contemplating the card on Monsieur Alfredo's door, +the concierge made her appearance, and informed me that he never spent +the evenings at home. "Was I perhaps a pupil?" I answered in the +affirmative. I asked her if he had many pupils just then, and she +answered I was the first she had ever seen. + +It was towards the end of autumn that I communicated to Monsieur Alfredo +my irrevocable decision to throw medicine to the winds and to devote +myself to the stage, and to my great satisfaction he consented to become +my instructor in deportment and declamation. The lessons were given at +my rooms in the Hôtel de l'Avenir. The old fellow's method was a +peculiar one, and his theories on acting as bold as those he held on +chess. I listened with the utmost attention to all he said, and tried as +well as I could to learn the fundamental rules of deportment he saw fit +to teach me. After a while he acceded to my request to be allowed to try +myself in a rôle, and fully aware of my preference for tragedy, it was +decided that, under the immediate superintendence of the author +himself, I should get up one of the characters in Monsieur Alfredo's +last work, _Le Poignard_, a tragedy in five acts. Monsieur Alfredo +himself was the king and I was the marquis. I admit that my début was +not a happy one. I saw that the author was far from satisfied with me, +and I realised myself that my marquis was a dead failure. My next début +was in the rôle of the English lord in the five-act tragedy, _La +Vengeance_, but neither there were there any illusions possible as to my +success. I then tried my luck as the count in _Le Secret du Tombeau_, +but with a very doubtful result. I then sank down to a viscount, and +made superhuman efforts to keep up to the mark, but notwithstanding the +indulgent way in which Monsieur Alfredo pointed out my shortcomings, I +could not conceal from myself the fact that I was not fit to be a +viscount either. + +I began to have serious doubts as to my theatrical vocation, but +Monsieur Alfredo thought that the reason of my failure might be traced +to my unfamiliarity with the highest society, and my difficulty in +adapting myself to the sensations and thoughts of these high personages. +And he was right--it was anything but easy. All his heroes and heroines +were very sorry for themselves, not to say desperate, although as a rule +it was impossible for me to understand the reason of their being so. +Love and hatred glowed in every one's eyes. True that as a rule +everything went wrong for the lovers, but even if they got each other at +last, they did not seem to be a bit the more cheerful for that. I +remember, for instance, the third act of _Le Poignard_, where I (the +marquis), after having waded through blood, succeed in winning the lady +of my heart, who on her side has gone through fire and water to be mine. +The Archbishop marries us by moonlight, and we, who had not seen each +other for ten years, are left alone for a while in a bower of roses. We +had nothing on earth to be afraid of; no one was likely to disturb us, +as I had previously run my sword through every grown-up person in the +play, and I thought that I ought to be a little kind to the marchioness. +But Monsieur Alfredo never found my voice tragic enough during the few +brief moments of happiness he granted us. (We perished shortly +afterwards in an earthquake.) + +For the matter of that, those who escaped a violent death were not much +better off--they were carried off in any case in the flower of their +youth by sudden inexplicable ailments, which no amount of care could +contend against. At first I tried to save some of the victims, but +Monsieur Alfredo always looked very astonished when I suggested that +some one might be allowed to recover; and knowing his theory that it was +sentimentality that spoiled Victor Hugo as a dramatist, I ceased more +and more to interfere in the matter. + +After a few more abortive attempts to pose as a nobleman, I submitted to +Monsieur Alfredo my opinion that I might do better in a more humble +position. But here we were met by an unforeseen obstacle--Monsieur +Alfredo did not descend below viscounts. If by the exigencies of the +plot a lonely representative of the lower orders had to appear on the +scene, he had no sooner got a word out of his mouth before the author +would fling a purse at his head, and send him back into the wings with +an imperial wave of his shiny coat sleeve. Well, away with all false +pride! It was in these rôles I at last hit upon my true genre; it was +here I scored my only triumphs. Imperceptibly to the old man, I +disappeared more and more from the répertoire, would now and then cross +the stage and with a deep obeisance deliver a manuscript letter from +some crowned head, or would occasionally come to carry off a +corpse--that was all. + +So the autumn passed on, we had gone through one tragedy after another, +and still Monsieur Alfredo constantly turned up with a new manuscript +under his arm. I began to be afraid that the old man would wear himself +out with this fathomless authorship, and I tried in every possible way +to make him rest a little. This was, however, quite impossible. He now +came every single day to Hôtel de l'Avenir to his only pupil and +literary confidant. His guileless, childish face seemed to grow more and +more gentle, and more and more was I drawn towards the poor old +enthusiast with a sort of tender sympathy. + +And unquenchable and ever more unquenchable became his literary +bloodthirstiness. By Christmas-time his new tragedy was ready, and +Monsieur Alfredo himself looked upon it as his best work. The scene was +laid in Sicily at the foot of Mount Etna in the midst of burning +lava-streams. Not a soul survived the fifth act. I begged for the life +of a Newfoundland dog, who, with a dead heir in his mouth, had swum over +from the mainland, but Monsieur Alfredo was inexorable. The dog threw +himself into the crater of Etna in the last scene. + +But while the lava of Mount Etna was heating Monsieur Alfredo's world of +dreams, the winter snow was falling over Paris. All of us had long since +taken to our winter coats, but my poor professor was still wandering +about in his same old frock-coat, so shiny with constant brushing, so +thread-bare with the wear and tear of years. The nights became so cold, +and sadly did I follow in my thoughts the poor old man tramping home +every night across the streets of Paris after the theatre was over. +Many times was I very near broaching the delicate subject, but was +always deterred by the sensitive pride with which he sought to disguise +his poverty. Yet had I never seen him in such excellent spirits as he +was just then, he placed greater expectations than ever on his new +tragedy. Like all his previous plays it was written for the Théâtre +Français. The systematic ill-will with which Mons. Perrin[21] had +refused to accept any work of his had certainly made him turn his +thoughts to the Odéon Theatre; but with due consideration to the +colossal proportions of his new drama, Monsieur Alfredo did not quite +see how to avoid offering it to the very first theatre in Paris. + +Maybe it seems to you that I ought to have pointed out to Monsieur +Alfredo the dangerous flights of his imagination, that I ought to have +tried to make him realise that his theatre was erected on quite another +planet than ours. I did nothing of the sort, and you would not have done +so either had you known him as I did, had you witnessed the anxiety with +which his kind eyes sought for my approval, how his sad old child-face +brightened up when he recited some passage which he expected would +especially dumbfound me--which alas! it seldom failed to do. But I had +arrived so far that I was quite incapable of spoiling his pleasure by a +single word of criticism. Silently I listened to tragedy after tragedy, +and there was no need to simulate being serious, for all my laughter +over his wild creations was silenced by the tragedy of reality, all my +criticism was disarmed by his utter helplessness--he did not even +possess an overcoat! The only audience the poor old man ever had was me, +why then shouldn't I bestow upon him a little approval, he whom life +had so unmercifully hissed? + +One afternoon he did not turn up at the Café de l'Empereur, and in vain +I waited for him before the chess-board the next day. I waited still +another day, but then, driven by uneasy forebodings, I went to look him +up towards evening. The concierge had not seen him go out, and there was +no answer to my knock at his door. I stood there for a moment or two +looking at the faded old visiting-card nailed on his door-- + + +------------------------------------------+ + | | + | Mr. ALFREDO | + | | + | Auteur Dramatique | + | | + | Professeur de Déclamation, de Maintien | + | | + | et de Mise en Scène. | + | | + +------------------------------------------+ + +And then I quietly opened the door and went in. + +The old man lay on his bed delirious, not recognising the unbidden guest +who stood there, sadly looking round the empty garret cold as the +streets without, for there was no fireplace. + +It was sunny and bright next day, and it was easy to remove him to the +hospital close by--I was on the staff there for the matter of that. He +had pneumonia. They were all very kind to the old gentleman, both the +doctors and the students, and dear Soeur Philomène managed matters so +successfully that she got a private room for him. He continued delirious +the whole of that day and night, but towards morning he became conscious +and recognised me. He then insisted on returning at once to his own +quarters, but quieted down considerably on being told he was in a +private room, and that he was quite independent of all the other +patients. After some hesitation he inquired what he would have to pay, +and I answered him I did not think the hospital could charge him +anything, as the _Société des Auteurs Dramatiques_ was entitled to a +free bed, and I doubted whether it would be the right thing to refuse to +avail himself of this privilege, as of course every one knew who he +was. Soeur Philomène, who stood behind his pillow, shook her finger +reprovingly at my little white lie, but I could well see by the +expression of her eyes that she forgave me. I had touched the poor old +author's most sensitive chord; with keenest interest he made me repeat +over and over again what I had said about the _Société des Auteurs +Dramatiques_ and a faint smile of content lit up his faded old face when +at last I had succeeded in making him believe me. From that moment he +seemed quite pleased and satisfied with everything, and he did not +realise himself how rapidly he was sinking. According to his wish, a +little table with writing materials had been placed beside his bed, but +he had not yet tried to write anything. + +The night had been worse than usual, and during the morning round I +noticed that Soeur Philomène had hung a little crucifix at the head of +his bed. He lay there quite silent the whole day, once only when he was +given his broth he asked for the name of the most rapid poison, and +Soeur Philomène thought it was prussic acid. + +Towards evening he became more feverish, and his eyes began to be +restless. He begged me to sit down beside him, and after swearing me +over to secrecy he unveiled to me the plot of his new tragedy where the +rival gives prussic acid to the bride and bridegroom during the wedding +ceremony. He spoke rapidly and cheerfully, and with a triumphant glance +he asked me whether I thought the Théâtre Français would dare to reject +him this time, and I answered that I did not believe it would dare to do +so. The work was to proceed with great speed, the first act was to be +ready next morning, and in a week's time at the very latest he intended +to send in the manuscript for perusal. + +He became more and more delirious, and he did not pay any more attention +to my answers. His eye still rested on mine, but his horizon widened +more and more, for the barriers of this world began to fall away. His +speech became more and more rapid, and I could no longer follow his +staggering thought. But his face still expressed what his failing +perception could no longer form into words, and with deep emotion I +witnessed death bestow on him the joy that life had denied him. + +He seemed to listen. There flew a light over his pale features, his eye +sparkled, and with head erect the old man sat up in bed. He shook away +his gray curls, and a shimmer of triumph fell over his brow. With his +hand on his heart the dying author made a low bow, for in the silence of +the falling night he heard the echo of his life's fondest dream; he +heard the Théâtre Français jubilant with applause! + +And slowly the curtain sank upon the old author's last tragedy. + +[Footnote 20: Scoundrels and poisoners.] + +[Footnote 21: The then manager of the Théâtre Français.] + + + + + MONT BLANC + + KING OF THE MOUNTAINS + + Mont Blanc is the monarch of mountains; + They crown'd him long ago + On a throne of rocks, in a robe of clouds, + With a diadem of snow. + + Byron. + + _Note._--The following paper may perhaps be considered rather + too whimsical by those unacquainted with a little adventure I + had while descending Mont Blanc, an adventure which began in an + avalanche and ended happily in a crevasse. The article dances + away on the rope of a single metaphor, and dances over + precipices. But the sentiment reflected in the word-picture of + the title impresses me still so strongly, so much do I still + admire the anger of the mighty snow-mountain, that I dare not + approach it with the familiarity of a reporter. I see that here + and there I have tried to smile--that is because of the pain in + my frozen foot. When I make fun of Mont Blanc I am reminded of + an antique bas-relief once seen in Rome, representing a little + Satyr, who, a look of blank astonishment on his face, measures + the toe of a sleeping Polyphemus. + +The ascent of Mont Blanc is easy. + +No one attempts the _Weisshorn_, _Dent Blanche_, or the _Matterhorn_ +unless his eye be calm and his foot sure, but we all know that Tartarin +of Tarascon went up Mont Blanc--although he never arrived at the top. + +They are indomitable revolutionists, these other mountain giants, +freedom's untamed heroes who refuse to be subjugated save by the sun +alone, haughty lords of the Alps who know themselves to be princes of +the blood. + +But Mont Blanc is the crowned king of the Alps. There was a time when he +was sullen and cruel, but he has grown kinder-hearted in his old age, +and now, like a venerable patriarch, he sits there, the white-haired +Charlemagne, looking out in calm majesty over his three kingdoms. + +Good-humouredly he suffers the Lilliputians to crawl up the +marble-bright steps that lead into his citadel, and with royal +hospitality he allows them to visit his ice-shining castle. + +But when the summer day begins to darken into autumn, he goes to sleep +in his white state bed under a canopy of clouds. And then he does not +like to be disturbed, the old king. + +No, he does not like to be disturbed; I knew it well. I had addressed +myself to his retainers and had been told that it was too late for an +audience, that the king did not receive at this time. I had come from +afar, my knapsack on my back, my head full of wonderful stories about +the far-famed palace, and longing to see the proud old mountain-king. + +Somewhat disconcerted I hung for a while about the castle gates, +muttering socialistic sentences to myself. I had taken in radical +newspapers all the summer and was not to be treated in that off-hand +way. It is the lot of the great to be subjected to the gaze of +inquisitive eyes, and I can but be turned away, thought I to myself, and +up I went with two followers. Perhaps it was a trifle unceremonious on +my part, but I am not used to the court etiquette of conventionality. + +Summer accompanied me a little way; at first she climbed the slopes with +ease, planting her foot firmly in the clefts, but it was not difficult +to see that she, the fair daughter of the valley, did not look forward +to the royal visit as ardently as I did. I had got myself up in +court-dress to pay my respects to the ice-gray monarch, in sharp-spiked +mountain shoes, snow gaiters, and steel-pointed pilgrim staff, but she +was in no wise equipped to meet the requirements of such a journey, poor +little one! The wind pulled and tugged at her leaf-woven petticoat, and +sharp stones cut her green velvet shoes adorned with bows of harebell +and forget-me-not. But she did not give in so easily; she bound her poor +feet with soft moss; she patched her petticoat with bracken and juniper, +and although her fingers were stiff-frozen, neatly and gracefully she +managed to weave some tiny heather-bells between. + +And thus we reached the summit of a rock, and on the edge thereof sat +Cerberus, the fierce sentinel of the castle, barking and howling and +shaking his arctic fur till great white tufts flew in the air around. I +have never been afraid of bad-tempered dogs and hailed old Boreas by his +name and asked him in our own language if he did not recognise me, he, +the guardian of my childhood's home. And sure enough he rushed at me +full speed! He laid his paws upon my breast with such force that he +nearly knocked me backward over the cliff, and licked my face with his +icy tongue till I could hardly breathe. But suddenly, in the midst of +his friendly demonstrations, he bit my nose, and, what is more, he +nearly bit it off--that is what I have always said, one cannot be too +careful where strange dogs are concerned! If any one is a lover of dogs +I am, but I did not know how to take that, and hurried on as quickly as +possible. He evidently thought he belonged to the party, and followed us +growling like the brute that he was. But Summer took fright and said she +dared not go any farther, and so we took leave of each other. +Light-footed and joyous she returned to the green of the alpine meadows, +and I, drawing my coat closer round me, went on my way. Some firs also +took courage, and, gripping the rugged granite with sinewy arms, they +followed us up the rock. + +Steeper and steeper became the track, fewer and fewer the green-clad +bodyguard which advanced with me. And soon the last of them halted +beneath the shelter of a jutting rock. I asked them if they would not +come a little farther, but they shook their white heads and bade me +farewell. Deeper and deeper penetrated the chill of death into the +mountain's veins; slower and slower beat the heart of Nature; higher +and higher went my path. And there she stood, the last outpost of +Summer, the courageous little child-flower of the mountain heights, +beautiful as her name, _Edelweiss_! She stood there quite alone with her +feet in the snow; no living soul had she to bear her company, but she +was just as neat for all that in her gray little woollen gown edged with +frost pearls, and just as frankly for all that did she look up at the +sun. She also had her part to play, and it was not for me to do her any +harm. I glanced at her a moment and thought how pretty she was, although +so simply dressed in her homespun clothes, poor little half-frozen +Cinderella amongst her summer-fair sisters of the valley. + +I stood now on the frontier of the kingdom of Eternal Winter, and firm +of foot I crossed the moat of frozen glacier-waves which surrounded the +citadel of the ice-monarch. There reigned a desolate repose over the +sleeping palace, and I felt that I was drawing nigh unto a king. I +wandered through deserted castle-halls on whose dazzling white carpets +no human foot had ever trod, beneath crystal-glittering temple vaults +through which the organ thundered like the roar of a subterranean river, +between tall colonnades whose cloud-hidden capitals supported the +firmament. + +So I gained the highest tower of the castle. The winding staircase +leading thereunto was gone, but with ice-axe and rope we assaulted the +Royal Eagle's nest. + +And I stood face to face with the mountain-king. Upon the giant's +forehead sat the beaming diadem of the sun, and an unspeakable splendour +of purple and gold fell over his royal mantle. No echo from the valleys +disturbed his proud repose; mournful in isolated peace he sat on high +surveying his mute kingdom. Silent stood the bodyguard about his throne, +the tall grenadiers with steel-glinting ice armour upon their granite +breasts and cloud-crested helmets upon their snow-white heads. I knew +the weather-beaten features of more than one of them full well, and +reverently I greeted the giants by name, _Schreckhorn_, _Wetterhorn_, +_Finsteraarhorn_, _Monte Rosa_, _Monte Viso_, and her, the virgin +warrior with lowered vizor over her beautiful face immaculate as Diana +in her snow-white garb, _Die Jungfrau_! And my eye dwelt long upon the +proud combatant yonder, Achilles-like in his god-forged armour purpled +with blood, the _Matterhorn_! + +But suddenly the king's face darkened and a sombre cloud fell over his +forehead. He took off his crown, and his white curls flew in the wind, +and without paying the slightest attention to us he put on his +night-cap.[22] And we understood that the audience was ended. + +But he must be a good sleeper indeed if he be able to rest in such a +noise as this, thought we, for around us there arose a fearful tumult. +The storm raged over our heads till we thought the roof of the castle +would fall in upon us, and Boreas, like a hungry wolf, howled at our +heels. Hastily we retraced our steps through the darkening palace; +through deserted courtyards where spirit hands swept every trace of path +away; through vast state halls, gloomy as chambers of death in their +white draperies; through vaults adown which the organ stormed as on the +Day of Judgment. + +But there was something wrong with these old castle-halls--I began to +think they were haunted. There were groans and shrieks; a shrill and +scornful laugh rang suddenly through the air, and beside us flew long +shadows swathed in white--it was not easy to make out what they were; +mountain-wraiths, I suppose. + +We then reached a big plain called "_le grand plateau_," but we had +hardly got halfway across it before a cannon shot rent the skies. I +looked up to see the white smoke dancing down the Mont Maudit and a +whole mountain of projectiles bearing down upon us with the speed of an +avalanche--_Sapristi!_ On we went. Then there came a crash as though the +thunder had burst over our heads, the ground gaped under our feet, and I +fell into Hades. Everything became silent and the chill of death fell +over me. + +But the instinct of self-preservation roused me, and half awake I sat up +in the coffin and looked around. At the same moment one of my companions +also crept out of his shroud, and by the help of the ice-axe we forced +open the lid that had already been screwed down over our third +companion. And to our astonishment we discovered that we were not dead +at all. We sat imprisoned in a subterranean dungeon waiting for trial, +but we all agreed that we were in the cell of the condemned. Daylight +fell through a narrow rift over our heads, and beside us yawned a great +chasm--it was like the Mamertine prison in Rome. We had time to meditate +upon a good many things. To complain was useless; to protest against our +fate was useless too; all we could do was to hope that the judicial +formalities might be conducted as quickly as possible--_der Tod ist +nichts, aber das Sterben ist eine schändliche Erfindung!_[23] + +Now and then a white wraith peeped through the opening and with mocking +laugh threw down great heaps of snow, then swept away over our heads. +"Are you still the lords of the earth, you miserable little human +microbes?" they howled until the vault shook again. We clenched our +teeth and said nothing. At last I got quite angry and shouted back to +them that they were nothing but microbes themselves. I glanced at my +companions and all three of us made a sort of grimace to show how +excellent we thought the joke, but it did not come to much, for the +muscles of laughter had been paralysed in our blue faces. But the +wraiths seemed taken aback all the same, and, summoning up all my +courage, I went on calling out that it was useless to give themselves +such airs, that there was something higher than Mont Blanc itself, and I +pointed towards a star which just then glanced down at us poor devils +through the gray fog bars of the opening. I had hardly got the words out +of my mouth before the wraiths vanished one and all, and by the light of +the brightening evening we saw that they had been transformed into huge +blocks of ice, which, impelled by the avalanche, had stopped short at +the very edge of the crevasse--witchcraft, nothing but witchcraft! But +it was not witchcraft that got us out that time. It was something else +that helped us--that which is higher than Mont Blanc. + +[Footnote 22: "_Il met son bonnet_"--the guides' usual and sufficiently +characteristic metaphor referring to that little cloud which suddenly +covers the summit of Mont Blanc--it announces a storm. It looks its best +from a certain distance.] + +[Footnote 23: Heine.] + + + + + RAFFAELLA + + +The picture was considered one of the very best in the whole Salon, and +the young painter's name was on every one's lips. It was always +surrounded by a group of admirers, fascinated by its beauty. She lay +there on a couch of purple, and around her loveliness there fell as it +were a shimmer from life's May-sun. Refined art-critics had settled her +age to be at most sixteen. There was still something of the enchanting +grace of the child in her slender limbs, and it was as if a veil of +innocence protected her. + +Who was she, the fair sleeper, the shaping of whose features was so +noble, the harmony of whose limbs was so perfect? Was it true, what +rumour whispered, that the original of the dazzling picture bore one of +the greatest names of France, that a high-born beauty of Faubourg St. +Germain had, unknown to the man, allowed the artist to behold the ideal +he had sought for but never found? Who was she? + +The doctor had stood there for a while listening to the murmur of praise +which bore witness to the young painter's triumph, and slowly making his +way through the fashionable crowd he approached the exit. He stopped +there for a moment or two watching one carriage after another roll down +the Champs Elysées, and then he wandered away across Place de la +Concorde and entered the Boulevard St. Germain. The clock struck seven +as he passed St. Germain des Prés and he hastened his steps, for he had +a long way still to go. He turned into one of the small streets near the +Jardin des Plantes, and it soon seemed as if he had left Paris behind +him. The streets began to darken, and narrowed into lanes, the great +shops shrank into small booths, and the cafés became pot-houses. Fine +coats became more and more rare, and blouses more numerous. It was +nearly eight o'clock, just theatre time down on the brilliant +boulevards, and up here groups of workmen wandered home after the day's +toil. They looked tired and heavy-hearted, but the work was hard, +already by six in the morning the bell was rung in the manufactories and +workshops, and many of them had had an hour's walk to come there. Here +and there stood a ragged figure with outstretched hand, he carried no +inscription on his breast telling how he became blind, he did not recite +one word of the story of his misery--he did not need to do that here, +for those that gave him a sou were poor themselves, and most of them had +known what it meant to be hungry. + +The alleys became dirtier and dirtier, and heaps of sweepings and refuse +were left in the filthy gutters; it did not matter so much up here where +only poor people lived. + +The doctor entered an old tumble-down house, and groped his way up the +slippery dark stairs as high as he could go. An old woman met him at the +door--he was expected. "_Zitto, zitto!_" (hush, hush), said the old +woman, with her fingers on her lips; "she sleeps." And in a whisper _la +nonna_ (the grandmother) reported how things had been going on since +yesterday. Raffaella had not been delirious in the night, she had lain +quite still and calm the whole day, only now and then she had asked to +see the child, and a short while ago she had fallen asleep with the +little one in her arms. Did _il signor Dottore_ wish to wake her up? No, +that he would not do. He sat himself down in silence beside the old +woman on the bench. They were very good friends these two, and he knew +well the sad story of the family. + +They were from St. Germano, the village up amongst the mountains half +way between Rome and Naples, whence most of the Italian models came. +They had arrived in Paris barely two years ago with a number of men and +women from their neighbourhood. Raffaella's mother had caught _la +febbre_ and died at Hôtel Dieu a couple of months after their arrival, +and the old woman and the grandchild had had to look after themselves +alone in the foreign city. + +And Raffaella had become a model like the others. + +And a young artist painted her picture. He painted her beautiful girlish +head, he painted her young bosom. And then fell her poor clothes, and he +painted her maiden loveliness in its budding spring, in the innocent +peace of the sleeping senses. She was the butterfly-winged Psyche, whose +lips Eros has not yet kissed; she was Diana's nymph who, tired after +hunting, unfastens her chiton and, unseen by mortal eyes, bathes her +maiden limbs in the hidden forest lake; she was the fair Dryad of the +grove who falls asleep on her bed of flowers. + +His last picture was ready. Fame entered the young artist's studio, and +a ruined child went out from it. + +They separated like good friends, he wrote down her address with a piece +of charcoal on the wall, and she went to pose to another painter. So she +went from studio to studio, and her innocence protected her no longer. + +One day the old grandmother stood humbly at the door of the fashionable +studio, and told between her sobs that Raffaella was about to become a +mother. Ah yes! he remembered her well, the beautiful girl, and he put +some pieces of gold in the old woman's hand and promised to try to do +something for her. And he kept his word. The same evening he proposed to +his comrades to make a collection for Raffaella's child, and he assumed +that there was no one who had a right to refuse. There was no one who +had the right to refuse. They all gave what they could, some more and +some less, and more than one emptied his purse into the hat which went +round for Raffaella's child. They all thought it was such a pity for +her, the beautiful girl, to have had such bad luck. They wondered what +would become of her, she might of course continue to be a model, but +never would she be the same as before. The sculptors all agreed that the +beautiful lines of the hip could never stand the trial, and the painters +knew well that the exquisite delicacy of her colouring was lost for +ever. The child would of course be put out to nurse in the country, and +the money collected was enough to pay for a whole year. And it was not a +bad idea either to beg their friend, that foreign doctor, who was so +fond of Italians, to give an eye to Raffaella, he might perhaps be +useful in many future contingencies. + +And the doctor, who was so fond of Italians, had often been to see her +of late. Raffaella had been so ill, so ill, she had been delirious for +days and nights, and this was the first quiet sleep she had had for a +long time. + +No, the doctor certainly did not wish to wake her up; he sat there in +silence beside the old grandmother, deep in thought. He was thinking of +Raffaella's story. It was not new to him, that story, the Italian poor +quarter had more than once told it him, and he had often enough read it +in books. It seemed to him that what he saw in life was far simpler and +far sadder than what he read in books. Nor was there in Raffaella's +story anything very unusual or very sensational, no great display of +feeling either of sorrow or despair, no accusations, no threat for +vengeance, no attempt at suicide. Everything had gone so simply in such +everyday fashion. It was not with head erect and flaming eyes that the +old grandmother had stood before him who was guilty of the child's +fall, but in humble resignation she had stopped at the door and sobbed +out their misery, and when she left she had prayed the Madonna to reward +him for his charity. The poor old woman had her reasons for this--she +could not carry her head erect, for life had long since bent her neck +under the yoke of daily toil; her eyes could not flame with menace, for +they had too often had to beg for bread. She knew not how to accuse, for +she herself had been condemned unheard to oppression; she knew not how +to demand justice, for life had meant for her one long endurance of +wrongs. Her path had lain through darkness and misery, she had seen so +little of life's sunlight, and her thoughts had grown so dim under her +furrowed brow. She was dull, dull as an old worn-out beast of burden. + +And the seducer, he was perhaps after all not more of a blackguard than +many others. He had done what he could to atone for a fault, which from +his point of view was hardly to be considered so very great, he had +provided for a whole year for a child which he said was none of +his--what could he do more? He had asked the doctor if he knew of any +virtuous models, and the doctor had answered him, "No," for neither did +he know of any virtuous models. + +And Raffaella had borne her degradation as she had borne her poverty, +without bitterness and without despair; she wept sometimes, but she +accused no one, neither herself nor him who had injured her. She was +resigned. Authors believe that it is so easy to jump into the Seine or +to take a dose of laudanum, but it is very difficult. Raffaella was a +daughter of the people, no culture had entered into her thought-world, +either with its light or its shadow, she was far too natural even to +think of such a thing. + +He who was cultured had brought forward the question of sending the +child into the country or placing it in the _Enfants trouvés_ (foundling +hospital), and she who was uncultured had known of no other answer than +to wind her arms still closer round her child's neck. And _la nonna_ +(the old grandmother), who scrubbed steps and carried coals all day, and +having at last lulled the child to rest in the evening, dead-tired went +to sleep with half-shut eyes and a string round her wrist, so as now and +then to rock the little one's cradle; neither could she understand that +it would be any relief if "_la piccerella_" were to be sent away. + +The light fell on the squalid bed, and the doctor looked at his patient. +Yes! it was indeed very like her, he certainly was a clever artist that +young painter! Her face was only a little paler now, that painful shadow +over the forehead was probably not to be seen in the bright studio +where the picture was painted, those dark rings round her eyes very +likely were not suitable for the Salon. But the same perfection of form +in every feature, the same noble shape of the head, the same childishly +soft rounding of the cheek, the same curly locks round the beautiful +brow; yes, rumour spoke true, she bore the mark of nobility on her +forehead, not that of Faubourg St. Germain, but that of Hellas, she bore +the features of the Venus of Milo. + +It was quite still up there in the dim little garret. The doctor looked +at the young mother who slept so peacefully with her child in her arms, +he looked at the old woman who sat by his side fingering her rosary. +With foreboding sadness he looked into the future which awaited these +three, and sorrowfully his thoughts wandered along the way which lay +before his poor friends. + +Ah yes, Raffaella soon got well, for she was healthy with Nature's +youth. Model she never became again, for she could not leave her child. +She did not marry, for her people do not forgive one who has had a child +by a _Signore_. With the baby at her breast she wandered about in search +of work, any work whatever. Her demands were so small, but her chances +were still smaller. She found no work. The old woman still held out for +a time, then she broke down and Raffaella had to provide food for three +mouths. The last savings were gone, and the Sunday clothes were at the +pawn-shop. Public charity did not help her, for she was a foreigner, and +private charity never came near Raffaella. She had to choose between +want or going on the streets. Her child lived and she chose want. The +world did not reward her for her choice, for virtue hungers and freezes +in the poor quarters of Paris. And she ended like so many others by +_fare la Scopa_.[24] Pale and emaciated sat the child on _la nonna's_ +knee, and with low bent back Raffaella swept the streets where pleasure +and luxury went by. Poverty had effaced her beauty, she bore the +features of want and hardship. Sorrow had furrowed her brow, but the +stamp of nobility was still there. Hats off for virtue in rags! It is +greater than the virtue of Faubourg St. Germain! + + * * * * * + +Perhaps a clever writer could make a nice little sketch out of +Raffaella's story; it is, however, as I said before, neither a very +original nor a very exciting one, it is quite commonplace. But I can +give you a subject for another little sketch; it is that doctor who is +so fond of Italians who has hit upon it. He has been thinking it over +for many years, but he never gets further than thinking. Write a story +about female models and dedicate it to artists! Write it without lies +and without sentimentality. Write it without exaggeration, for it needs +none; without severity, for we all have need of forbearance. Tell them, +the artists, how much we all like them, the light-hearted good-natured +comrades, tell them how proud we are of them, the happy interpreters of +our longing for beauty. But ask them why they so despise their models, +ask them if they know what becomes of the originals of their female +pictures! + +They know it well. + +If they answer you that they are young, that their temptations are +greater than those of any others, then reflect if you yourself have the +right to say any more to them. But if they answer you that the fault +lies with the models, then tell them to their faces that they lie. Then +tell them what road the greater part of the women models take--the +statistics are there and they cannot be contradicted. We know well that +many of these models have themselves to blame for their misfortunes, but +by far the greater part of them owe their fall to the misleading of an +artist. + +And look here! Is he then quite wrong, that doctor who thinks that the +artist stands towards his woman model in the same position as the +physician towards his woman patient? Society demands, and is right in +demanding, a passionless eye from the physician, and between the +physician's respect for his profession and the temptation of the man, +honour has no choice. The present day ranks art higher than science, why +then is not the artist's respect for his profession great enough to +protect a woman model! Why are there no virtuous models? Is not the +model the unknown collaborator in the artist's creation, is she not, +even she, although unconsciously a humble servant in the temple of art, +in that temple where the ancients placed the statue of the chaste Pallas +Athene? + +Yes, a clever writer may have a good deal more to say about this, and he +may also make use of that doctor's meditations if he thinks there is any +meaning in them, they have at least the merit of being founded upon +experience, experience of the art world of Paris as well as that of +Rome.[25] + +But he must not forget that it is the spoiled children of our day that +he is daring to blame. Should his article be to the point he may be sure +he will be very severely censured by them; let him take it as praise for +_il n'y a que la vérité qui blesse_! And besides, let him remember that +the world's blame is as little worth caring about as its praise. + +[Footnote 24: The harbour of refuge for most of the shipwrecked ones who +still can and will work. The street scavengers of Paris are to a great +extent Italians.] + +[Footnote 25: I was for ten years the confidant, the friend, and the +doctor to most of the poor Italians in Paris, the greater number of whom +are models. My experience during these years was a terrible one. Nine +years in Rome have made the evidence still more conclusive. Of English +models I know nothing and have nothing to say.] + + + + + THE DOGS IN CAPRI + + AN INTERIOR + + +Like the ancient Romans, the Capri dogs devote the greater part of their +day to public life. The Piazza is their Forum, and it is there they +write their history. When Don Antonio opens the doors of his osteria, +and Don Nicolino, barber and bleeder, steps out of his "Salone," Capri +begins a new day. From all sides the dogs then come gravely walking +forth--the doctor's, the tobacconist's, the secretary's, Don +Archangelo's, Don Pietro's, etc. etc., and, after a greeting in +accordance with nature's prescribed ceremonial, they seat themselves +upon the Piazza to meditate. Don Antonio places a couple of chairs in +front of his café, and whilst some of them accept the invitation to lean +against them, others prefer the steps leading up to the Church, or that +comfortable corner by the Campanile, to whose clock generations have +listened with ever-increasing astonishment where, indomitable as the +sun, it presses forward on its own path, but alas! not that of the sun. + +After a while the dogs from Hotel Pagano make their appearance. They get +up later than the others, for they eat a terribly solid dinner. They all +descend from the venerable old "Timberio"[26] Pagano, who walks a little +behind the rest of his family. Timberio has a cataract in one eye, but +the other eye looks out upon life with immovable calm. The Pagano +dog-family has always ranked amongst the very first in Capri, and now, +since one of their masters, Manfredo, was made Sindaco, they have still +further accentuated that reserved bearing which they always understood +how to maintain towards the lower orders. They usually form a "circle" +of themselves and some of the Liberal dogs in the Municipal Portico. The +Conservative dogs, who were beaten at the last election when the Liberal +candidate, Manfredo Pagano, became Sindaco, cluster together in a +hostile minority on the other side of the Piazza by the steps leading up +to the Church. Now and then they take a look inside the Church, and seat +themselves down by the door with the greatest decorum, like humble +publicans, whilst the Mass is said in the chancel or the _Figlie di +Maria_ intone the Litany with half-singing voices. + +About ten o'clock appear Il Cacciatore's[27] two dogs, mother and son. +They go without hesitation straight into Don Antonio's wineshop. They +were born upon the island, but they have received an English education, +and they well know the taste of a leg of mutton or a piece of roast +beef. Don Antonio's dogs have also a certain idea of these things. After +several generations a vague Anglicism still survives amongst them from +the time when Don Antonio was steward on board an English steamboat, and +it is with a visible pride that they say to their Capri colleagues their +"Bow-wow-wow--how do you do, sir?" as any stranger approaches their +osteria. The German dogs never enter this place; in spite of all +Bismarck's efforts to win Don Antonio over to the triple alliance, they +are not well looked upon there, their permanent headquarters are still +at Morgano's "Zum Hiddigeigei," whence one can hear them barking and +yelping till late at night. + +The morning passes in calm _dolce far niente_ as a preparation for the +exertions of the day. Seldom has anything happened since they met here +yesterday, seldom is there the slightest indication that the day which +now begins will bring in its train any change in the imperturbable +harmony of their _status quo_. An Arcadian peace reigns over their whole +being, a contemplative calm is stamped upon their faces. And yet this +peace hovers over a volcano, like the summer which brightens the slopes +of Vesuvius away on the far horizon. Now and then the thunder growls +from the depths of Timberio Pagano's broad breast when Hotel Quisisana's +shaggy black guardian goes too near him. Seated on each side of the +_farmacia_ door the two doctors' four-footed assistants stick out their +tongues at each other on the sly, and often enough do the dogs of Don +Nicolino and Don Chichillo (the new barber) fall upon each other, so +that tufts of hair fly around. Animosity, however, soon sinks down +again, and, calm as the rippling waves against the old Emperor's bath +palace below, the hours glide away in rhythmical monotony. + +They watch the girls as they stride past with mighty _Tufa_-stones on +their well-poised heads, like the Caryatides of the Erechtheum; they +watch the Marina fishermen bringing up for sale in baskets the night's +haul of golden _Triglie_ and great _Scurmi_, of bright-coloured mussels +from some rocky reef, or perhaps a coral-spun old Roman amphora dragged +up by the deep _Palamido_ nets from out of its thousand-years-old +hiding-place at the bottom of the sea. + +Sometimes the longing for activity awakes, and they slowly cross the +Piazza to the corner of the Anacapri road to gaze dreamily upon the +bustling life in front of the stables, where cavalcades of _forestieri_ +are waiting impatiently whilst saddles are laid upon the donkeys' +bleeding backs, and rusty bits are stuffed into their sore mouths. +_Aaaaah! Aaaaah! Avanti!!_ Off, little donkeys, for Monte Solaro, one +hour and a half's stiff climbing with the happy tourists! Yes, the road +is beautiful, winding up along the side of the mountain, clad with +myrtle and broom. The view widens more and more--_Aaaaaah! Aaaaaaaah!!_ +one more climb, and the vineyards and olive woods lie deep under your +feet, and over your head rise steep cliffs as wild in their mighty +desolation as the Via Mala of the Alps; and Barbarossa's half-crumbling +castle riveted fast upon the edge of the precipice. Beyond gleams the +gulf girdled by the immortal beauty of the shore, and from Posilipo's +pine-crowned cape, island after island floats away towards the blue +distance of the Mediterranean--_wunderbar! kolossal!!_ + +Under the saddle it burns like fire, and the mouth is so sore with the +incessant tugging at the heavy bridle; but courage, little donkey! up +above upon the heights lives Padre Anselmo in his hermit chapel, and he +has good wine for thirsty throats! + +Other dogs who do not get so far as the donkey-stand lean thoughtfully +against the parapet of the Piazza, where some lounging sailors look out +over the gulf. The eyes wander far over the gleaming line of Naples, and +the mighty silhouette of Vesuvius, or follow absently the direction of +some outstretched hand pointing towards Capo Sorrento, whence can be +seen the steamboat on its way to Capri. And here come the two blind old +men, Fenocchio and Giovanni, groping their way across the Piazza to +their usual corner at the edge of the path, where the hum of thousands +of gay tourists has rustled by them, where they have sat for so many +years with their old fisher-caps in outstretched hands, and their vacant +eyes staring into their eternal night of gleaming sunshine: "_Date u +soldo Eccellenza al povero cieco! La Madonna vi accompagna!_" + +Up on the Piazza the dogs are beginning to awake, and in scattered +groups they wander across to the parapet to stare at the steamboat which +glides past in the blue water on its way to the Grotto. It is time to +start down to the Marina to greet the arriving strangers. Quisisana's, +Pagano's, and Hôtel de France's dogs solemnly escort their respective +porters to the arched entrance of the Piazza with its Bourbon +coat-of-arms still enthroned above it. Small ready-saddled donkeys also +clatter patiently down the old stairway to the Marina, and with loud +cracks of the whip Felicello's coachmen rattle down the new +carriage-road. From the Piazza above, they watch the steamer anchoring +outside the harbour, and the small boats landing the passengers. A faint +interest lights up the passive faces of the lookers-on when the first +strangers reach the Piazza. But alas! always the same invariable types, +always the same colossal matron on the same slender little donkey, +always the same correct "misses" in Felicello's landau, always the same +fiery-red noisy Germans, wrangling over prices with the girls who have +dragged their boxes up the heights to the town. Seldom are there any +dogs amongst the arrivals, seldom does any occasion whatever arise for +interference in one way or another--passivity, nothing but passivity! + +Now the hotel bells ring for luncheon, and they one and all wander home. +The processes of digestion are carried out, according to correct +physiological laws undisturbed by any brain-work, and the afternoon is +passed in a siesta on some loggia, whilst the sun's rays slowly climb +the Anacapri cliff, and long shadows begin to glide down Monte Solaro's +slopes towards the town. The air is cool and refreshing, and they +prepare to resume public business on the Piazza. The second event of the +day is about to happen. The post arrives. Don Peppino (post-master) +solemnly shuts his office-door, and the loiterers wait with interest +whilst the post-bag is being opened inside. Always the same +disappointment--no letters for them, all the letters and newspapers are +for the strangers in the hotels! Sometimes they get hold of a _Corriere +di Napoli_ or a _Pungolo_, and then they disappear into some corner by +themselves to make people believe that they can read; but after they +have devoured the whole newspaper they are none the wiser for it. So +they become drowsy again and wander a few times round the Piazza, past +Don Antonio's _osteria_ with the faded photographs and dried-up biscuits +in the window, and a few unconscious philosophers meditating inside; +past Il Salone, where the flies keep watch over Don Nicolino's dreams; +past La Farmacia, where the morphia of idleness soothes Don Petruccio's +ideas to rest; past the stables where the donkeys are pushed into their +dark holes after the strangers have returned from their expedition. They +look out over the gulf where Ischia blushes in fading sunlight, while +dark-blue twilight falls around Vesuvius. The day's session draws to an +end and the Piazza is becoming deserted. Up in the Campanile there +suddenly breaks out a terrible row amongst the cogs and wheels, and at +last the old machinery loses its temper altogether, and, getting hold of +a rusty hammer, begins to beat with all its might on some unwilling +bells: "_Ventiquattro ore_," yawns Don Nicolino, shutting up his Salone; +"_Ventiquattro ore_," say the flies, and go to sleep amongst the brushes +and combs; "_Ventiquattro ore_," say the dogs, and go home with the +feeling of having performed their duty to gather strength for the next +day's toils by twelve or fourteen hours' dreamless sleep. + +Then the church bells ring out the Ave Maria, and the day sinks into the +sea. + +So passes day after day, each like the other, as are the beads of the +rosaries which glide between the fingers of the _Figlie di Maria_ inside +the Church. Each morning collects the citizens for social duty on the +Piazza--each evening the campanile exhorts them to go to rest. + +Under the walls of the houses the shadows begin to grow smaller and +smaller, and the paving-stones of the Piazza get hotter and hotter in +the sun-bath. Uneasy dreams begin to disturb the peace of the siesta, +and Capri is seized with an irresistible desire to scratch itself. Don +Antonio spreads the awning before his wineshop, and the questions of the +day are oftener and oftener dealt with under its protecting shade. They +linger later on the Piazza in the warm evenings, and with nose in the +air they sit for long hours on the parapet looking out over the gulf +towards Vesuvius, whose mighty smoke-cloud slowly spreads over the +mainland--the wind is south, all is as it should be! And, with +apprehensive thoughts of fatigues to come, they troop home to their +much-needed repose. + +The Piazza is quite empty, now and then a short bark is heard from some +wineshop, or a howling "_Potz Donner Wetter!_" from Hiddigeigei's +beer-house, then everything is still, and only the old watchman in the +Campanile counts over the hours of the night in a sonorous brazen voice +to keep himself awake. Still for a while the white town gleams out +amongst the cliffs, then it becomes quite dark and Capri's isle sinks +into the gloom of night. + +But lo! already climbs the moon over Sorrento's mountain, and the veil +of twilight glides down Monte Solaro's heights, over shimmering olive +woods, over orange and myrtle groves, and vanishes amid the waves of the +gulf. Night dreams a beautiful dream, and mysteriously the siren's +moonlit island rises out of the dark sea. A gentle south wind breathes +over the water, murmurs amidst the half-slumbering waves, flies +fragrantly over orange-trees in blossom, and playfully rocks the tender +vine branches. Jubilant voices call out from the sea, louder and louder +they sound in the stillness of the night, and the wanderer on Monte +Solaro hears the rustling of wings in the moonlit space above. + +When Capri awakes the next morning, every one knows that the wild geese +have passed. Spring has come, and the shooting season has begun! From +early morning the Piazza is full of dogs. The quiet of everyday life has +departed, a certain energy animates their dull features, and the +reflection of an idea lights up the contemplative gloom of their eyes. + +In front of Maria Vacca's butcher-shop hangs a dead quail, and outside +Don Antonio's _osteria_ stand guns in long rows, and upon the chairs lie +great game-bags and powder-horns. Il Cacciatore has been in the wineshop +since sunrise, in colossal shooting-boots with cartridge-belt round his +waist. Woe to the quail which may now appear in Maria Vacca's shop! It +vanishes at once into Il Cacciatore's game-bag. Inside the Municipal +Portico a younger generation listens to old Timberio Pagano's shooting +stories of the days of his youth, when many thousand quails were caught +in a day, and up on the Church steps the clericals think sadly of that +period of vanished splendour when Capri had its own Bishop, whose +maintenance was paid by the quail harvest--"_Vescovo delle quaglie_"[28] +as he was called in Rome. Excitement increases as the hours pass, and +when at last the Campanile's bells announce that the first day's +shooting is over, each one goes to his home to gather strength for the +next day's exertions. Once again darkness falls upon the island, and +Capri sleeps the sleep of the just. + +On tired wings swarms of birds fly over the sea. Thousands have fallen +on Africa's coasts, where they assembled for their long journey, +thousands have sunk exhausted amidst the waves, thousands will die on +the rocky island which glimmers from afar in the darkness. Sheltered by +the last hour of gloom they approach the island and silently swoop down +upon its steep coast, upon the heights by Villa di Tiberio, where the +hermit watches behind his snares; amongst the cliffs of Mitromania and +the Piccola Marina, where nets are spread to catch their wings; upon the +headlands of Limbo and Punta di Carena, where the Capri dogs, stealthy +as cats, sneak round after their prey. When day dawns over Monte +Solaro, and its first rays stream even as they did two thousand years +ago in sacred fire upon the old sun-god's crumbling altar in the grotto +of Mitromania,[29] hundreds of birds, quails, wood-pigeons, larks, +thrushes, flutter in the nets around, and hundreds of others bleed to +death amongst the cliffs--but what cares the sun for that! What matters +it to the sun that the darkness he disperses conceals a multitude of +worn-out birds from rapacious eyes, that to-day death stalks from cliff +to cliff along the track shown by his gleaming light: + + "So che Natura è sorda, + Che miserar non sa; + Che non del Ben sollecita + Fu, ma dell 'esser solo."[30] + +Upon the heights of Monte Solaro sits Il Cacciatore, armed to the teeth, +looking with the eye of a conqueror over the field of battle below. The +day has been a hot one, Il Cacciatore has fired some hundred shots in +different directions. At his feet lie his two dogs, mother and son, and +behind him sits Spadaro with an extra gun in his hands and an enormous +game-bag over his shoulder. Now and then mother and son give little +yelps and wag their tails, following in their dreams an escaping bird, +now and then Il Cacciatore's hand fumbles after his trusty gun to bring +down an imaginary quail or pigeon, now and then Spadaro seems to stuff +some new booty into his vast bag. Deeper and deeper grows the silence +over Monte Solaro. Down at their feet the three rocks of Faraglione +shine in purple and gold, and the glow of the sinking sun falls on the +waves of the gulf. From the town of Capri hotel bells ring for dinner. +A fragrant hallucination of quail-pie tickles Il Cacciatore's nostrils, +and from under his half-shut eyelids the whole gulf assumes a +tantalising resemblance to a sea of pure _Capri rosso_--that purple hue +which already old Homer likened to red wine--whilst Spadaro's more +modest imagination hears the macaroni splutter and boil in the murmur of +the waves against the cliff below, and sees the purple glow of the +evening sun pour masses of "pumaroli"[31] sauce over it. + +Suddenly Il Cacciatore rubs his eyes and looks dreamily around, and +Spadaro investigates with amazement the bag, where only a single little +lark, which was on its way to give spring concerts in the north, sleeps +his last sleep. _Hallo! Spadaro! Andiamonci!_[32] The dogs wake up by +degrees, and the caravan starts slowly on its way towards Capri. Tired +by the day's toil, at last they reach the Piazza and its friendly +wineshop, where Il Cacciatore sits down to rest whilst Spadaro and the +dogs carry home the lark in triumph. + +So pass the weeks of the shooting season in continued exertions. Every +morning before daybreak they start off to try and capture Spring in its +flight, every evening they meet on the Piazza to rest, and often enough +do we assemble round our friend Il Cacciatore's table to partake of a +magnificent quail-pie, such as only he can put before us. + +But although the ranks are thinned, the March of The Ten Thousand still +advances victoriously. Soon the larks sing over the frosty fields in the +distant North, soon the swallows twitter under the eaves of the far-off +little cottage, which has lain so long half-buried in snow, and the +quails sound their monotonous note in the spring evenings. + +The shooting season is over, and the Capri dogs sit blankly upon the +Piazza, staring out over the gulf in the direction the bird flew when he +escaped out of their hands. Higher and higher the sacred fire flames +each morning upon the sun-god's altar down in Mitromania's grotto, +brighter and brighter the Faraglioni rocks gleam each evening with +purple and gold, with a still ruddier glow the wine-hue of the gulf +fascinates Il Cacciatore's retina. Silently the liberal dogs ponder over +the burning questions of the day, and, panting, the clericals listen +from their sunny church steps to the prophecies of the fires of _Il +purgatorio_, which the priests proclaim every Sunday inside the cool +Church. Public life ceases by degrees, and it seems as if a reaction +sets in after the excitement of the shooting season. The arrival of the +steamer is certainly still watched from the Piazza, and with one eye +open they look at the few strangers who wander up to the Piazza with +outspread sketching-umbrellas and easel and colour-box on a boy's head. +True, they still assemble in front of the closed door of the office to +await the opening of the post-bag, but interest in political life has +slackened, and their hope of letters has become a quiet resignation. +Inside the _Farmacia_ the drugs ferment in their pots, and in Don +Nicolino's Salone living frescoes of flies adorn the walls. About the +slopes of Monte Salaro the Scirocco hangs in heavy clouds, and an +irresistible drowsiness settles down upon the Piazza. Capri enters into +its summer torpor. + +When it awakes the sun has subdued his fire, and the table stands ready +spread for the lords of creation to seat themselves and feast, and for +the dogs to gather up the fragments that remain. From the _pergola_ +over their heads hang grapes in heavy clusters, and amidst the shade of +the orange-groves peep out juicy figs and red-cheeked peaches. Then +comes the Bacchanalia of the vintage, with song and jest and maiden's +bright eyes looking out from under huge baskets of grapes, and naked +feet freeing the slumbering butterfly of wine from its crushed +chrysalis. + +Over the Piazza a cooling sea breeze blows now and again, and Capri +takes a refreshing bath of heavy autumnal rain to wash away the heat and +dust of summer. The dogs save themselves in time from the vivacity of +the unknown element, but millions of obscure lives are drowned in the +streams which force their way like a deluge over the bloody battle-field +of summer, whilst others find their Ararat amongst the brushes in Don +Nicolino's Salone. + +The mist of unconsciousness is gradually lifted from the dogs' brains, +and waking dreams about activity and strength stare out from their +half-shut eyes. Don Nicolino smilingly dusts the halo of flies from his +portrait, and, deep in thought, Don Petruccio composes a new elixir of +life from summer's _mixtum compositum_. Fenocchio and Giovanni seat +themselves again in their corner to wash a little copper out of the +tourist stream, and with trembling legs the small donkeys once more +unload numbers of _forestieri_ in the Piazza. From Vesuvius the smoke +falls in long cloud-streamers over the gulf, and upon the wings of the +Tramontana (the north wind), Summer flies home again after her +wedding-trip to the North. In vain do the Capriotes spread their nets +once more round the shores of the island; in vain do the dogs lie in +wait amongst the rocks; in vain does Il Cacciatore sit in full armour on +the heights of Monte Solaro and shoot off his cartridges after the +fugitive--Summer passes by. + +With drooping tails the dogs sit huddled together upon the stones of +their Piazza, thinking with sorrow of their departed summer idyll. From +snow-covered Apennines, Winter comes sailing in his foam-hidden +dragon-ship over the uneasy waters of the gulf. The storm thunders +amidst the ruins of the old watch-tower, whose alarm-bell[33] has been +silent for so long, and amongst the foaming breakers the mad Viking +boards Capri's cliffs. Strong as a whirlwind he cuts in pieces the +pergola garlands which were left hanging after Autumn's Bacchanalian +feast, and, brutal as a savage, he tears asunder the leaf-woven chiton +which clothed the Dryad of the grove. + +But down in Mitromania's grotto the sacred fire flames as before upon +the old Persian god's altar, and tenderly the God of Day spreads his +shining shield over his beloved island and bids the barbarian from the +North go to sea again. So he departs, the rough stranger, his errand +unaccomplished, without having robbed a single rose from the maiden's +sun-warmed cheek, without having stolen a single golden fruit from the +everlasting green of the orange groves. And scarcely has he turned his +back before tiny fearless violets peep carefully out from among the +hillocks, and narcissus and rosemary clamber high up on the steep cliffs +to see whither the harsh Northerner has gone, and soon a whole flock of +flower children come and set themselves down to play at summer in the +grass. + +Upon the Piazza the dogs sit as before in sunny contemplation. The cycle +of their life's emotions has been run through, and they begin to turn +over anew the blank pages of their history, page after page in unvarying +sequence. Day follows day and year follows year, and soon old age comes +and scatters some white almond blossom upon their heads. The buoyant +delights of the senses are benumbed, youth's far-flying thoughts have +broken their wings against the four walls of the Piazza, and like tame +ducks they go round and round their enclosed space, from Don Antonio's +wineshop to Felicello's donkey-stand, from Don Nicolino's Salone to Don +Petruccio's Farmacia. Now and again the free cry of the passing wild +geese high above in space reaches the Piazza, the early youthful courage +wakes anew, and they sluggishly tramp along towards the Anacapri road as +far as their heavy limbs can carry them. Now and again a faint echo from +some world's revolution trembles on their tympanums through Don +Peppino's post-office, and they look away in dreaming peace to the white +town of Naples, the noise of whose human life is lost amidst the murmur +of the waves, or away to the old revolutionist Vesuvius, whose +threatening wrath will never reach their Eden. + +So they sit on their Piazza, staring out upon the river of time as it +flows past them. They still sit there staring for a few more years to +come, then they move no more--they have become hypnotised. The struggle +for existence has ceased, and imperceptibly they sink into Buddha's +Nirvâna, unconscious, painless, inebriate with the sun. + +[Footnote 26: I write here as I talk here--not Italian but Capri +dialect. The old Emperor, who lived on the island for eleven years, is +never called Tiberio here, but "Timberio."] + +[Footnote 27: Our friend old Mr. X----, for fifteen years the delight +and ornament of the Piazza of Capri, always cheerful, always thirsty, a +great destroyer of quails and wine-bottles, now at last gone to rest in +the quiet little field outside the town of Capri, where the sombre green +of some laurel and cypress-trees stands out between the waving branches +of his favourite plant, the vine. Old Spadaro is still alive, and will +tell you all about his lamented master.] + +[Footnote 28: Quail bishop. Capri no longer owns a bishop, but the quail +harvest still forms one--and perhaps the most important--item of the +island's revenue.] + +[Footnote 29: Few strangers visit the grotto of Mitromania, the name of +which may be derived from _Magnum Mitrae Antrum_. It faces east, and the +first rays of the sun light up its mysterious gloom. One knows from +excavations made here that once upon a time the old, yet ever young, +sun-god was worshipped in this cave.] + +[Footnote 30: Leopardi.] + +[Footnote 31: Pumaroli-pomidoro, _i.e._ tomato, the Southern Italian's +favourite fruit, the most important ingredient in everything he eats, +sweetening the monotony of his macaroni.] + +[Footnote 32: "Let us be off."] + +[Footnote 33: The alarm-bell used to be rung from the old tower to warn +the shores of the gulf of the approach of pirates.] + + + + + ZOOLOGY + + +They say that love for mankind is the highest of all virtues. I admire +this love for mankind, and I know well that it only belongs to noble +minds. My soul is too small, my thought flies too near the earth ever to +reach so far, and I am obliged to acknowledge that the longer I live the +farther I depart from this high ideal. I should lie if I said that I +love mankind. + +But I love animals, oppressed, despised animals, and I do not care when +people laugh at me because I say that I feel happier with them than with +the majority of people I come across. + +When one has spoken with a human being for half an hour, one has, as a +rule, had quite enough, isn't it so? I, at least, then usually feel +inclined to slip away, and I am always astonished that he with whom I +have been speaking has not tried to escape long before. But I am never +bored in the society of a friendly dog, even if I do not know him or he +me. Often when I meet a dog walking along by himself, I stop and ask him +where he is going and have a little chat with him; and even if no +further conversation takes place, it does me good to look at him and try +to enter into the thoughts which are working in his mind. Dogs have this +immense advantage over man that they cannot dissimulate, and +Talleyrand's paradox that speech has been given us in order to conceal +our thoughts, cannot at all be applied to dogs. + +I can sit half the day in a field watching the grazing cattle; and to +observe the physiognomy of a little donkey is one of the keenest +pleasures of a psychologist. But it is specially when donkeys are free +that they are most interesting, a tied-up donkey is not nearly so +communicative as when she is loose and at liberty, and that after all is +not much to be wondered at. + +At Ischia I lived for a long time almost exclusively with a donkey. It +was Fate which brought us together. I lived in a little boat-house down +at the Marina, and the donkey lived next door to me. I had quite lost my +sleep up in the stifling rooms of the hotel, and had gladly accepted my +friend Antonio's invitation to live down at the Marina in his cool +boat-house, while he was out fishing in the bay of Gaeta. I fared +exceedingly well in there amongst the pots and fishing-nets; and astride +on the keel of an old upturned boat I wrote long love-letters to the +sea. And when evening came and it began to grow dusk in the boat-house, +I went to bed in my hammock, with a sail for a covering and the memory +of a happy day for a pillow. I fell asleep with the waves and I woke +with the day. Each morning came my neighbour, the old donkey, and stuck +in her solemn head through the open door, looking steadfastly at me. I +always wondered why she stood there so still and did nothing but stare +at me, and I could not hit upon any other explanation than that she +thought I was nice to look at. I lay there half awake looking at her--I +thought that she too was nice to look at. She resembled an old family +portrait as she stood there with her gray head framed by the doorway +against the blue background of a summer's morning. Out there it grew +lighter and lighter, and the clear surface of the sea began to glitter. +Then came a ray of sunlight dancing right into my eyes, and I sprang up +and greeted the gulf. I had nothing whatever to do all day, but the poor +donkey was supposed to be at work the whole forenoon up in Casamicciola. +There grew, however, such a sympathy between us that I found a +substitute for her, and then we wandered carelessly about all day long, +like true vagabonds wherever the road led us. Sometimes it was I who +went first with the donkey trotting quietly at my heels, sometimes it +was she who had got a fixed determination of her own, and then I +naturally followed her. I studied the whole time with great attention +the interesting personality I had so unexpectedly come across, and it +was long since I had found myself in such congenial company. I might +have much more to say about all this, but these psychological researches +may prove far too serious a topic for many of my readers, and I +therefore believe I had better stop here. + +And the birds, who can ever tire of them? Hour after hour I can sit on a +mossy stone and listen to what a dear little bird has to say--I, who can +never keep my thoughts together when some one is talking to me. But have +you noticed how sweet a little bird is to look at when he sings his +song, and now and again bends his graceful head, as if to listen for +some one to answer far away in the forest? In the late summer, when the +bird-mother has to teach her children to talk--do not believe it is +only a matter of instinct, even they have to take lessons in learning +their singing language--have you watched these lessons when the mother +from her swinging-chair lectures about something or other, and the +summer-old little ones stammer after her with their clear child-voices? + +And when the birds are silent, I have only to look down among the grass +and moss to light on other acquaintances to keep me company. Over waving +grass and corn flies a dragon-fly on wings of sun-glitter and fairy-web, +and deep down in the path, which winds between the mighty grass stems, a +little ant struggles on with a dry fir-needle on her back. Rough is the +road, now it goes up-hill and now it goes down-hill, now she pushes the +heavy load like a sledge before her, now she carries it upon her slender +shoulders. She pulls so hard up-hill that her whole little body +stiffens, she rolls down the steep slopes with her burden clasped +tightly in her arms; but she never lets go, and onward it goes, for the +ant is in a hurry to get home. Soon the dew will fall, and then it is +unsafe to be out in the trackless forest, and best to be home in peace +after the day's work is ended. Now the road becomes mountainous and +steep, and suddenly a mighty rock rises in front of her--what the name +of that rock is the ant knows well enough; I know nothing, and to me it +looks like an ordinary pebble. The ant stops short and ponders awhile, +then she gives a signal with her antennæ, which I am too stupid to +understand but which others at once respond to, for from behind a dry +leaf I see two other ants approach to the rescue. I watch how they hold +a council of war, and how the new arrivals with great concern pull the +log to try how heavy it is. Suddenly they stand quite still and +listen--an ant-patrol marches by a little way off, and I see how a +couple of ants are told off to lend assistance. Then they all take hold +together, and like sailors they haul up the log with a long slow pull. + +I understand it is to repair the havoc made by an earthquake that the +log is to be used--how many hard-working lives were perhaps crushed +under the ruins of the fallen houses, and what evil power was it that +destroyed what so much patient labour built up? I dare not ask, for who +knows if it were not a passing man who amused himself by knocking down +the ant-hill with his stick! + +And all the other tiny creatures, whose name I do not know, but into +whose small world I look with joy, they also are fellow-citizens in +Creation's great society, and probably they fulfil their public duties +far better than I fulfil mine! + +And besides, when thus lying down and staring into the grass, one ends +by becoming so very small oneself. + +And at last it seems to me as if I were nothing but an ant myself, +struggling on with my heavy load through the trackless forest. Now it +goes up-hill and now it goes down-hill. But the thing is not to let go. +And if there is some one to help to give a pull where the hill seems too +steep and the load too heavy, all goes well enough. + +But suddenly Fate comes passing by and knocks down all that has been +built up with so much hard labour. + +The ant struggles on with her heavy load deep in the trackless forest. +The way is long, and there is still some time before the day's work is +over and the dew falls. + +But high overhead flies the dream on wings of sun-glitter and fairy-web. + + + + + HYPOCHONDRIA + + +The study of micro-organisms has directed medical science into new +channels, and thrown open a hitherto undreamt-of world for eager +investigators. The list of recent discoveries in bacteriology is already +a long one. Koch's researches in cholera and tuberculosis, and Pasteur's +method of vaccination against hydrophobia, are but links in the chain +which one day shall fetter the hydra-headed dragon of disease. Less +known, but hardly less important, are the very latest studies of +hypochondria, which have led to the discovery that this evil also +belongs to infectious diseases. + +Struck by the constant disorder of thought and sensibility which +characterise the hypochondriac, the doctors have up till now placed this +malady amongst the nervous diseases, and it is in the central organs of +the nervous system, more especially the brain, that its seat and origin +have been determined. We finally know that hypochondria is an infectious +disease, caused by a microbe which has been isolated, and named +_Bacillus niger_ (A. M.). + +It is after all astonishing that this discovery has escaped so many +investigators ever since Burton, whose _Anatomy of Melancholy_ still +remains unparalleled--it is astonishing when one considers the many +analogies which connect this so-called nervous disease with some of the +best-known bacterial diseases, such as hydrophobia, tuberculosis, and +cholera. As in hydrophobia, so in hypochondria the virus spreads over +the nervous system, produces constant and well-known disorders in the +brain, and ends here also by paralysis, paralysis of the affected +individual's intellectual and moral functions, and, at last, mental +death. As in hydrophobia, one also notices by the bacillus niger +infection cramp in certain groups of muscles--that of the muscles of +laughter being, for instance, very common. This cramp, _risus +sardonicus_, is excessively painful, and its prognostic signification is +a bad one, for it is a characteristic of absolutely incurable cases +(Heine). + +The tendency to bite, which characterises hydrophobia, is also +encountered in certain forms of hypochondria (Schopenhauer). As a rule +the affected individual is, however, inoffensive and resigned +(Leopardi). + +The cholera characteristic, _Stadium algidum_, is also to be found in +bacillus niger infection--a Stadium algidum when the soul slowly grows +cold, and at last reaches the zero of insensibility (Tiberius). + +The curious, and, up till now, unexplained immunity which protects +certain individuals from cholera, appears again in hypochondria--so, +for instance, have idiots shown themselves absolutely refractory, _i.e._ +not receptive of the bacillus niger infection. The explanation of the +relative rarity of hypochondria is probably to be found in this +fact. . . . + +In analogy with what experimental pathology has taught us about the +microbes of cholera and tuberculosis, the bacillus niger does not seem +to thrive on animals, though several exceptions to this rule are to be +found, and as the tuberculosis bacillus is exceedingly common amongst +cows, so may be pointed out the great diffusion of bacillus niger +infection amongst old donkeys (Rosina). I do not believe, though, that +here, as with the cows, one can speak of spontaneous infection--the +virus has, in the case of the old donkey, more probably been introduced +into the blood through a flogged back. Dogs seem, after a long contact +with infected individuals, to be receptive of contagion (Puck). + +Bacillus niger originates in the heart--there is no doubt about +that--the disorders of the brain are secondary. The explanation why the +seat of the evil has been supposed to be the brain is natural enough, +because as a rule it is only since the infection has spread to the brain +that the malady can be diagnosed. So long as bacillus niger has only +attacked the heart, the diagnosis is much more difficult. The nature of +the evil can, however, here, as in certain forms of tuberculosis, be +easily enough detected at the back of the eyes. This is probably in +relation with the morbid alteration of the organ of sight, which +characterises the bacillus niger infection--_the patient sees life as it +is_; when, on the contrary, as is well known, in the normal eye the +vision of the outer world is reflected through certain media, illusions +and never-dying hope, before it is transferred through the optic nerve +to the brain. + +As with microbes of the before-mentioned diseases, bacillus niger is +also exceedingly tenacious of life. Its virulence can be temporarily +reduced by alcohol, ink, and music. As for alcohol, its effect is +indubitable, but unfortunately of very short duration. The microbe very +soon--indeed, already the next morning, according to all +experimentalists--regains its full vigour, and its temporary inactivity +seems rather to have increased its virulence instead of decreasing it. +Like most of the other antimicrobic agents, alcohol is in itself a +deadly poison, and its application in the treatment of the disease is +therefore very limited. It is to be used with the greatest precaution, +for there are numerous instances of the individual having followed his +microbe to the grave. + +May I here mention _en passant_ a harmless old quack remedy--the common +practice of smoking out the microbe. The home of the tobacco-plant is +the same land where the poppy of oblivion blossoms, the silent shores +between which flows the stream of Lethe. The fragrance of its leaf has +deadened the microbe in more than one diseased brain, the clouds from an +old pipe have hidden the reality from more than one sorrowful eye. (Do +you remember Rodolphe in Henri Murger's _Vie de Bohème_?) + +Ink as a bactericide is less known, but worth consideration. I know of a +case, to which I shall return later, where a momentary amelioration was +produced by an ink-cure. Contrary to alcohol, this specific can be used +without any danger whatever to the individual himself--the danger being +limited to his surroundings. The microbe is dipped in the ink-stand, and +fixed on paper to dry. It maintains, however, its virulence long enough, +and can, transplanted in a fertile soil, regain its vigour and grow. +The preparation must, therefore, be strictly locked up in the +writing-desk, which now and then must be disinfected, the surest +disinfectant being here, as always, fire. + +As for music, this treatment was known even in the childhood of science; +it was already highly esteemed by the ancients--hypochondria is, as is +well known, one of the oldest of all diseases; it resounds already in +the choruses of Sophocles and Euripides. The new world of bacteriology +was then undreamt of, but the discoveries of thousands of years have +done no more than verify the experience of the ancients. Music still +remains the greatest consoler of sorrow-stricken man. Still to-day Saul +seeks relief for his sombre soul from David's harp, still to-day does +Orpheus conquer the shades of Hades by the sound of his lute; still +to-day the song calls out for the Eurydice of our longing. + + * * * * * + +As was to be expected, the discovery of the microbe of hypochondria gave +quite a new direction to the study of the treatment of this disease. To +relate here the far-reaching experiences which followed the isolation of +the bacillus niger would carry us too far--enough to say that the +results of these investigations have unfortunately up till now been +hopelessly negative. We, however, find it expedient to mention in a few +words the experiments in air-therapeutics by which the discoverer of the +microbe hoped to find a remedy for the evil--true that the result was +even here negative, but there is a certain amount of interest still +attached to these experiments which, pursued with more patience, might +perhaps have led to a more satisfactory result. Starting from the +analogy between the bacillus niger infection and tuberculosis, the +doctor emitted his hypothesis of a region of immunity from hypochondria +as well as from consumption, of a possibility of finding in the pure air +of the high altitudes a medium where the development of bacillus niger +in the mind would cease, as well as the development of the +tuberculosis-bacilli in the lungs. It was in the domain of experimental +pathology--the field where Pasteur and Koch reaped their laurels--that +the solution of the problem was to be looked for, and the bacterium in +question living almost exclusively on mankind, the suitable animal for +experiment had in this case necessarily to be a man. The doctor had for +several years attended an individual affected with the complaint in +question. It was a fine case. We quote here from the notes of the +doctor: "Man about thirty. The patient maintains an obstinate silence as +to the origin of his sufferings; it is, however, evident that the evil +dates from several years back. External examination nothing +remarkable--on the contrary. Big dog at his heels. Energy but little +developed. Active impulses wanting. Ambition rudimentary. Intelligence +mediocre--maybe slightly above. Sense of humour well defined, as usual +in these cases. Sensibility abnormally developed. Heart perhaps rather +large. Tendency for idealism. Patient has hallucinations--fancies, for +instance, he is surrounded by people who suffer and hunger; imagines +seeing all sorts of animals oppressed and tortured to death." The doctor +had in vain prescribed several things in order to calm and distract his +diseased mind, rest-cure in Anacapri for a whole year; earthquake in +Ischia, cholera in Naples, etc. etc., but without any enduring result. +Returned to Paris, the patient had, though with visible aversion, gone +through a cure of ink-treatment, and in the beginning had felt a little +better for it, but had soon fallen back to his normal condition of +hopeless dejection. The doctor was at his wit's end, and began to be +bored to death by the continual lamentations of his patient. The +unfortunate man was perpetually hanging about in the doctor's +consulting-room, and ended by taking up nearly his whole day, to the +great detriment of his other practice. It was then the doctor +communicated to his patient his hypothesis of the possibility of a +region of immunity from hypochondria, as from consumption, and the +desirability of finding a fitting animal for experiment, for the purpose +of studying the influence of high altitudes on hypochondria. + +The patient placed himself at the doctor's absolute disposal. + +On the top of Mont Blanc (4810 mètres) the doctor still found a +considerable quantity of microbes in the thoughts of his patient. The +patient complained that he felt so small and forlorn up there on the +pinnacles of Nature's temple, where all around him the Alps raised their +marble-shining arch of triumph over the silent cloud-heavy earth. With +awe he bent his eyes before the beaming majesty of the sun, where, +indomitable and unconscious, the Almighty Ruler trod his course over the +shade and light of the valleys, over the sorrow and joy of man. + +Chained to the ice-axe firmly riveted in the frozen snow, did the doctor +leave his patient for a whole night on a projecting rock, under the +shoulder of the Matterhorn (4273 mètres), while the snowstorm passed. +Now and then a flash of lightning flamed through the icy night of the +desolate precipices; like combating Titans, giant-shaped crags stood out +between storm-driven clouds, and the mighty mountain shook, while the +thunder rolled over the snow-fields. Then everything became still; the +storm passed by, and like silent birds of the night heavy flakes of +snow floated through the darkness. With stiff-frozen limbs, half-covered +with snow, sat the patient in mute wonder, looking out over Matterhorn's +sombre cliffs, over Monte Rosa's desolate glaciers. The patient +complained of feeling so utterly helpless before the magnificent force +which had built up this, the proudest monument of the Alps, so crushed +before the time-defying Titan, who, it seemed to him, was only going to +fall with the world, which was his footstool. . . . He listened with awe +to the mountains answer; high above his head he heard the thunder of +loosening rocks, and while the echo replied from the Ebihorn cliffs, an +avalanche of rattling stones rolled along the flank of the mountain to +break into fragments and disappear deep down amongst the crevices of the +Zmutt glacier--mute testimonies that even the mightiest mountain of the +Alps was condemned to crumble away into grains of sand in the +hour-glass of the Eternal, broken fragments from the oldest monument of +creation, teaching, like the modern hieroglyphics from the Nile, that +all shall perish. + +As the night passed on the patient felt more and more downcast and +miserable. The doctor had already given up the experiment as hopeless, +when towards daybreak, to his great astonishment, symptoms of an +unmistakable amelioration showed themselves. The patient's head had +fallen on the guide's shoulder; a painless repose crept over his +stiffening limbs, and with utmost interest the doctor found an almost +complete absence of bacillus niger in the benumbed thought of his +patient. The doctor watched for a while in great excitement the +patient's pale face, while the darkness of the night vanished more and +more, and the dawn of a new day flew over the horizon. He was just going +to make a new test on bacillus niger, when one of the guides suddenly +leaned his ear against the patient's breast, and then anxiously began to +rub his nostrils and half-open eyelids with brandy, and to pull his arms +and legs. . . . + +When he shortly afterwards slowly opened his eyes, he was more depressed +than ever, and remained decidedly worse for several days. + +After renewed experiments on Monte Rosa, Schreckhorn, Die Jungfrau, and +a prolonged observation in a crevasse under the Mont Maudit cliffs of +Mont Blanc (1471 mètres), the doctor had to give up his hypothesis of +immunity from hypochondria. In spite of the isolation of the microbe, we +are obliged to admit that no positive result has been gained up till now +as to the treatment of the affected individual--the analogy with cholera +and even tuberculosis can, alas! be applied even here. We continue to +remain powerless to cure hypochondria. We are able to soothe the +sufferings of the hypochondriac, because we are able to deaden his +microbe--kill it, we cannot. After more or less time the bacillus niger +recovers his virulence, and the diseased individual retakes his +momentary interrupted course towards the sombre land whence no traveller +returns, and over whose doors are written those words of the great seer: + + "Lasciate ogni Speranza, voi ch'entrate!" + +A severe scientific critic might, however, object that the +above-mentioned experiment on the influence of high altitude on +hypochondria was not pursued long enough to make its negative result +absolutely conclusive. Who knows if the solution of the problem did not +slip out of the doctor's hands that night on the Matterhorn? Who knows +if the patient might not for all time have been freed from his bacillus, +if he had been allowed to remain a little longer up there on the +Matterhorn's cliff, under the cover of the falling snow, while the +darkness of the night vanished more and more from his benumbed thought, +and the dawn of a new day flew past his half-opened eye? + + + + + LA MADONNA DEL BUON CAMMINO + + Naples, 1884. + + +The doctor had often seen him at the door of the sanctuary looking out +over the dirty lane, and, even when a long distance from each other, +friendly salutations were exchanged between them in the usual Neapolitan +fashion of waving hands, with "_Buon giorno, Don Dionisio!_" "_Ben +venuto, Signor Dottore!_" + +Often, too, he had looked in at the old deserted cloister garden, with +its dried-up fountain and a few pale autumn roses against the wall of +the little chapel. And Don Dionisio had related to him many of the +miracles of the Madonna of Buon Cammino. The Madonna of Buon Cammino +stood there quite alone in her half-ruined sanctuary, and only one tiny +little oil-lamp struggled with the darkness within. With great +solemnity Don Dionisio had drawn aside the curtain which veiled his +Madonna from profane eyes; and tenderly as a mother he had arranged the +tattered fringes of her robe, which threatened to fall to pieces +altogether. And the doctor had looked with compassionate wonder upon the +pale waxen image with the impassive smile on the rigid features, which +to Don Dionisio's eyes reflected the highest physical and spiritual +beauty. "_Come è bella, come è simpatica!_"[34] said he, looking up at +his Madonna. + +Inside the old church of Santa Maria del Carmine, close by, hundreds of +votive candles were burning before the altars, and night and day the +people flocked in there to implore the mighty Madonna's protection. +Mothers took the rings off their hands and hung them as sacred offerings +round the Madonna's neck, girls drew the strings of coral out of their +dark plaits to adorn the rich robe of the statue, and, with brows +pressed against the worn marble floor, strong men knelt, murmuring +prayers for help and mercy. + +Death dwelt in the slums of Naples. Three times the wonder-working image +of the Madonna del Carmine had been carried round the quarter in solemn +procession to protect the people of the Mercato from the dreaded plague, +and many miracles were reported of dying people brought back to life on +being permitted to kiss the hem of the garment of the blessed Maria del +Carmine. + +The doctor had seen Don Dionisio disappear into his little portico with +a disdainful shrug when the procession of Maria del Carmine passed by, +and he had more than once heard the old priest express his doubts about +the far-famed Madonna's wonder-working power to one gossip or another, +whom he had succeeded in stopping on her way to the church of the +Madonna. + +"What, after all, has your Madonna done for you, you people of Mercato?" +he called out mockingly. "If she is so powerful, why has she not saved +Naples from the cholera? And here, in the midst of her own quarter in +Mercato, whose inhabitants for centuries have knelt before her, what has +she done to prevent the disease spreading here? Do not people die every +day round her own sanctuary, round the very Piazza del Mercato, in spite +of all your prayers, in spite of all your votive candles? _Altro che la +Madonna del Carmine!_[35] + +"And as the cholera has never reached this side of the Piazza, and never +will reach it, whom do you suppose you have to thank for that, if not +the holy Madonna del Buon Cammino, who stretches her protecting hand +over you although you do not deserve it, although you leave her +sanctuary dark and take all your offerings to the other Madonnas, +whatever their names may be! And yet you cannot see in your blindness +that the blessed Madonna del Buon Cammino is far more powerful than all +your Madonnas put together! _Altro che la Madonna del Carmine!_" + +But no one seemed to take any heed of the old man's words, no votive +candles dispersed the darkness within the chapel of the blessed Madonna +del Buon Cammino, and no lips murmured her name in their prayers for +help and protection against the dreaded sickness. Had they not Santa +Maria del Carmine close by, who from all time had been the patron saint +of the quarter, who had helped them through so much distress, and +consoled them in so much misery? Was there not in her church that +miraculous crucifix out of whose pierced side blood trickled every Good +Friday, and whose hair the priests solemnly cut every Christmas,--that +same crucifix which had bowed its head to avoid the enemy's bullet, and +sent death to the besieger's camp and victory to Naples? And if the +Madonna del Carmine could not give sufficient protection to all of them +in these days of distress, had they not the venerable Madonna del +Colera, who saved their city in the year 1834 from the same sickness +which now raged amongst them? And in the Harbour quarter close by, did +not the Madonna del Porto Salvo stand in her sumptuous chapel dressed in +silk and gold brocade, ready to listen to their prayers? Was there not +to be found by the Banchi Nuovi the far-famed Madonna dell'Aiuto, who +would certainly not belie her name of Helper in the hour of need? Had +they not La Madonna dell'Addolorata with the mantle of solid silver and +the black velvet robe, whose folds no one had ever kissed without +gaining comfort and peace? Had they not La Madonna dell'Immacolata, +whose sky-blue garment was strewn with gold stars from the vault of +heaven itself? Had they not La Madonna di Salette in her purple skirt +dyed with the blood of martyrs? And did not San Gennaro himself stand in +his shining dome above,--he, the patron saint of Naples, whose congealed +blood flows anew every year,--he who protected the city of his care from +plague and famine, and commanded the flowing lava of Vesuvius to stop +before its gates? But La Madonna del Buon Cammino--who knew anything of +her? Who knew whence she came or who had seen with their own eyes a +single miracle worked by her hand? What kind of Madonna was that whose +shrine remained without candles or flowers, and whose mantle was in +rags? "_Non tiene neppure capelli, la vostra Madonna!_"[36] an old woman +had once shouted in Don Dionisio's face, to the great joy of the crowd. +The effect of this argument had been crushing, and Don Dionisio had +disappeared in great fury inside his portico, and had not been seen +again for several days. + +The doctor's road lay in that direction one evening, and he determined +to visit his old friend. From inside the chapel he heard Don Dionisio +with mighty voice singing an old Latin hymn in honour of his Madonna. + + "Consolatrix miserorum, + Suscitatrix mortuorum, + Mortis rumpe retia; + Intendentes tuae laudi, + Nos attende, nos exaudi, + Nos a morte libera!" + +He lifted the curtain before the door, and in the light of the little +oil-lamp he saw Don Dionisio on his knees before the image of his +Madonna, very busy brushing the cobwebs off an enormous old wig of an +indescribable colour. His anger had not yet subsided. "_Dicono che non +tiene capelli!_" he called out as soon as he caught sight of the doctor; +"_mo vogliamo vedere chi tieni i più belli capelli!_"[37] And with a +triumphant glance at his visitor he placed the wig upon the bald head of +La Madonna del Buon Cammino. "_Come è bella, come è simpatica!_" said +he, with sparkling eyes, and he arranged as well as he could the +entangled curls round the forehead of the image. + +When the doctor went away Don Dionisio's anger had cooled, and again he +took up his position in the little portico in excellent spirits, quite +ready to fight both on the offensive and defensive for his Madonna's +sake. The same evening the doctor was told of a case of cholera in a +_fondaco_ close by the street in which Don Dionisio lived, and he went +to look at it early the next morning. In passing by he saw the old +fellow already at his post, rubbing his hands and looking very cheerful, +and the doctor had not the heart to tell him then that even the +protecting presence of his Madonna had now failed. But Don Dionisio +waved his hand eagerly as soon as he caught sight of the doctor, and +when he was still some distance he called out, so as to be heard +throughout the whole lane, "_Ecco il colera!_ See now what I have always +said! Here you have got it because you would not believe in La Madonna +del Buon Cammino; now you are all of you going to see what becomes of +those who believe more in the Madonna del Carmine than in her! _Ecco il +colera!_ in our very midst, _Ecco il colera!_" + +The lane was full of people, who in trembling terror had fled out of +their houses to pray in the churches and before the shrines at the +street corners, and some of them stopped irresolutely in front of the +chapel to listen to Don Dionisio's threatening prophecy of death to +every one who had dared to brave the anger of the blessed Madonna del +Buon Cammino. The _fondaco_ seemed quite empty, for as many as were +able had run away at the first alarm; but, guided by the sound of +praying voices, the doctor came at last to a dark hole, where the usual +sight met his eyes. Round the door some kneeling _commare_[38] in +earnest prayer; stretched out at full length upon the floor a mother +wringing her hands in despair; and in a corner the livid face of a +child, half-hidden under a heap of ragged coverings. The little girl was +quite cold, her eyelids half shut, and her pulse scarcely perceptible. +Now and again a convulsive trembling passed over her; but except for +that she lay there quite motionless and insensible--cholera! At the head +of the bed lay a picture of the Madonna del Carmine, and the doctor +gathered from the muttering of the women that the wonder-working Madonna +had been brought there the evening before. Now and then the mother +lifted her head and looked searchingly at the doctor, and it seemed to +him as if he could read something like confidence in her anguished eyes. +And yet it appeared as if he could do nothing. Ether-injections, +frictions, all the usual remedies proved fruitless to bring the warmth +of life back, and the pulse grew weaker and weaker. Again the doctor saw +to his surprise the same trusting expression in the mother's eyes when +she looked at him, and he determined to try his new remedy. He knew well +that in a case like this there was nothing to lose, for left to herself +the child was evidently dying; but for some time he had been pursued by +a wild idea that maybe there was everything still to gain. No one cared +any longer to watch what he did; the mother lay with her forehead +pressed against the floor, calling upon the Madonna with touching voice +to take her own life in exchange for the child's; and amongst the +_commare_ the prayers had ceased and in their place a lively discussion +broken out as to whether it would not be better to fetch some other +Madonna, since the Madonna del Carmine would not help them in spite of +all their prayers, in spite of the candles before her image, in spite of +the mother's promise to dress the child in the Madonna's colour for a +whole year, if only it might live. The child was quite insensible, and +everything was easily done. When all was finished the doctor slightly +touched the mother's shoulder, and whilst she stared at him, as if she +hardly understood his words, he said that there was no time to lose if +they wished to fetch another Madonna, and he suggested that they should +send for the holy Madonna del Buon Cammino, whose chapel was close by. A +deep silence followed his words, and it was plain that his suggestion +did not meet with the smallest sympathy. He pretended to take their +silence for consent, and with a little difficulty succeeded in +persuading one of the women, whom he knew well, to go to the chapel of +the Madonna del Buon Cammino. + +Don Dionisio came like a shot with his Madonna in his arms. He put the +little oil-lamp at the feet of the image, and began eagerly to sing the +hymn to the honour of his Madonna, now and then casting a furious glance +at the image of her powerful rival, before which the mother still lay +outstretched; whilst by the door the women were muttering all sorts of +opprobrious remarks about his idol: "_Vatene farti un'altra gonnella, +poverella! Benedetto San Gennaro, che brutta faccia che l'hanno dato, +povera vecchia!_"[39] + +Suddenly they became quite silent, and in breathless amazement they all +stared at the doctor's pale waxen assistant in his fight for the +child's life. For from the closely compressed lips of the dying girl a +subdued moan was heard, and the half-opened eyes turned slowly towards +the Madonna del Buon Cammino. All crossed themselves repeatedly; and the +doctor perceived the child's pulse grow stronger, and the warmth of life +slowly begin to spread over the icy limbs. The terror of death began to +glow in her eyes, and she cried with half-broken voice: "_Salvatemi! +Salvatemi! Madonna Sanctissima!_"[40] + +With a louder voice Don Dionisio began again his song of praise, and all +round him now murmured the name of the blessed Madonna del Buon Cammino. +Don Dionisio left the _fondaco_ about an hour afterwards, followed by a +procession of almost all its inhabitants. The child was then quite +conscious; and all agreed that the holy Madonna del Buon Cammino had +worked a miracle. + +The doctor sat for a good while longer at the child's side, watching +with the keenest interest the slow but sure return of its strength. Late +in the evening, when he looked in again, the improvement was so marked +that it was probable the child would live. Everywhere--in the _fondaco_ +and in the alleys around--nothing was talked of but the new miracle; and +when the doctor went home he saw for the first time lights shining in +the chapel of the Madonna del Buon Cammino. + +He did not sleep a wink that night, for he could not keep his thoughts +away from what he had witnessed in the morning, and he could hardly +restrain his impatience to meet with a fresh case on which to repeat the +experiment. + +He had not to wait long. The same night another woman in the _fondaco_ +was attacked, and when he saw her the next day she was already so bad +that it seemed as if she might die at any moment. His advice to fetch +the Madonna del Buon Cammino was taken now without hesitation, and +whilst everybody's attention was fixed upon Don Dionisio and his image, +the doctor could busy himself with his patient, undisturbed by any +suspicious and troublesome eyes. + +Here again a speedy and decided reaction set in, which became more and +more confirmed during the day; and that same evening the rumour spread +through the alleys of the Mercato of a second miracle by the +wonder-working Madonna del Buon Cammino. + +Thus began those strange never-to-be-forgotten days, when, insensible to +fatigue, yes! to hunger, the doctor went day and night from bed to bed, +borne as by strong wings of an idea which almost blinded his sight, and +made all his scepticism waver. He would come with Don Dionisio at his +heels to meet the usual sight of some poor half-dead creature for whom +it seemed as if human skill could do nothing, and when, an hour or two +later, the Madonna del Buon Cammino was carried away in solemn +procession, followed by the deepest devotion of the crowd, he would slip +out unnoticed, forgetful of everything, in silent wonder at the sudden +and constant improvement he had witnessed--an improvement which often +seemed like a rising from the dead. + +Ah! he had gone down there where it had seemed to him so easy to die, +just as easy as it had been to delude himself with the thought that he +had gone there only to help others. He had done very little for others, +but a good deal for himself--he had almost forgotten his own misery. His +experience of cholera was already wide enough, he knew about as much as +others knew. He knew that fate reigns over death as over life. Method +after method he had tried honestly and conscientiously, and he had +learnt that in spite of Koch, in spite of the microbes, his ignorance +was as great as ever when it came to the treatment of a cholera patient. +So he had wandered round the quarters of Naples with remedies in his +hands in which he did not believe himself, and words of encouragement +and confidence on his lips, but hopeless scepticism in his heart. + +And now this last experiment, so bold that he had almost shrunk from +trying it, which had resulted in an unbroken series of successes in the +midst of an epidemic with an enormous mortality! Once again he was a +doctor and nothing more. With redoubled zeal he followed every case, +scarcely for a minute did he leave his patient's side, and with +increasing excitement he watched every symptom, every detail, with his +former scepticism--and yet the fact remained, for a whole week not a +single fatal case! + +He had almost forgotten that Don Dionisio and the Madonna del Buon +Cammino followed his footsteps--he had forgotten them as he had +forgotten himself. Now and then his vacant eyes would fall upon the +unconscious assistant at his side, and he felt glad that he had been +able to give the old man a share in his success. Don Dionisio seemed to +need no more rest than the doctor, day and night he was going about with +his Madonna. His face shone with ecstasy, and he enjoyed to the full his +short happiness. + +The Madonna del Buon Cammino was now clothed in a flame-coloured silken +mantle, a diadem of showy glass beads encircled her brow, and round her +neck, strung upon a cord, hung numbers of rings and gold ear-rings. +Night and day votive candles were lighted in her chapel, and on the +walls, so naked before, hung _ex votos_ of all possible kinds, +thank-offerings for deliverance from sickness and death. The chapel was +always full of people, praying fervently on their knees for help from +that mighty Madonna who had performed so many miracles, and who +stretched out her protecting hand over the street. For, to his +amazement, the doctor had heard Don Dionisio prophesy that as long as +the lights burned in the chapel of the Madonna del Buon Cammino, the +cholera would never dare to approach her street. + +It was now that the poor people of Naples were to suffer their deepest +misery, that the infection, swift as fire, broke out all over the alleys +and slums of the four poor quarters. It was now that people fell down in +the street as if they had been struck by lightning; that the dying and +dead lay side by side in almost every house; that the omnibuses of +Portici, filled with the day's death-harvest, were driven every evening +up to the Campo Santo dei Colerosi,[41] where over a thousand corpses +every night filled the enormous grave. It was now that trembling hands +broke down the walls with which modern times had hidden the old shrines +at the street corners, that the people in wild fury stormed the Duomo to +force the priests to carry San Gennaro himself down to their alleys. It +was now that anxiety reached the borders of frenzy, that despair began +to howl like rage, that from trembling lips prayers and curses fell in +alternating confusion, that knives gleamed in hands which just before +had convulsively grasped rosary and crucifix. + +The doctor and his friend went on their way as before, undisturbed by +the increasing terrors which surrounded them. And wherever they went +Death gave way before them. The doctor needed all his self-control to +enable him still to maintain his doubts, and before his eyes he saw like +a mirage the goal which his daring dreams already reached. As for Don +Dionisio, no questioning doubt had ever awakened his slumbering freedom +of thought, and long ago the doctor had given up all attempts to +restrain the old fellow's joyous conviction of his victory. + +The epidemic had now reached its highest point, almost every house in +the quarter was infected, and still Don Dionisio's prophecy held good, +for not a single case had occurred in the street of the Madonna del Buon +Cammino. + +The doctor had been told by a _commare_ that in one of the _bassi_ in +Orto del Conte lay a dying woman, and that her husband had been +_avvelenato_[42] in the hospital the day before. He went there the same +evening, but it was with great difficulty that he succeeded in getting +through the hostile crowd which had assembled in front of the infected +house. He heard that the husband had been removed almost by force to +the hospital, that he had there died, and that when, a couple of hours +afterwards, they had tried to remove his wife too, who had been attacked +in the night, the people had opposed it, a _carabiniere_ had been +stabbed, and the others had had to save their lives by flight. As usual, +the unfortunate doctors bore the blame of all the evil, and he heard all +around him in the crowd the well-known epithets of "Ammazzacane!" +"Assassino!"[43] "Avvelenatore!"[44] After several fruitless efforts to +gain their confidence and make friends with them, he had no choice but +to give up all attempts of helping the sick woman and to wait till Don +Dionisio came. As soon as he entered the room the attention of every one +was at once fixed upon him and his Madonna, and they all fell on their +knees and prayed fervently, without caring in the least about either the +patient or the doctor. The woman was in _Stadium algidum_,[45] but her +pulse was still perceptible. Strong in the confidence of his previous +successes, the doctor went to work. He had hardly finished before the +heart began to flag. Just as Don Dionisio with triumphant voice +announced that the miracle was done, the death-agony began, and it was +with the greatest difficulty that the doctor could keep up the action of +the heart until the Madonna del Buon Cammino had left the house, +followed by the crowd outside in solemn procession. Shortly afterwards +the doctor slipped out of the house like a thief, and ran for his life +to the corner of the Via del Duomo, where he knew he would be in safety. + +The same night three of his patients died. He did his utmost to prevent +Don Dionisio accompanying him the following day, but in vain. Every one +of the sick he visited and treated that day died under his eyes. + +The wings which had borne him during those days had fallen from his +shoulders, and dead tired he wandered home in the evening with Don +Dionisio at his side. They said good-night to each other in front of the +chapel of the Madonna del Buon Cammino, and in the flickering light of +the lamp before her shrine the doctor saw a deathly pallor spread over +his friend's face. The old man tottered and fell, with the Madonna in +his arms. The doctor carried him into the chapel and laid him upon the +straw bed where he slept, in a corner behind a curtain. He placed the +Madonna del Buon Cammino carefully on her stand, and poured oil for the +night into the little lamp which burned over her head. Don Dionisio +motioned with his hand to be moved nearer, and the doctor dragged his +bed forward to the pedestal of the image. "_Come è bella, come è +simpatica!_" said he, with feeble voice. He lay there quite motionless +and silent, with his eyes intently fixed upon his beloved Madonna. The +doctor sat all night long by his side, whilst his strength diminished +more and more and he slowly grew cold. One votive candle after another +flickered and went out, and the shadows fell deeper and deeper in the +chapel of the Madonna del Buon Cammino. Then it became all dark, and +only the little oil-lamp as of old spread its trembling light over the +pale waxen image with the impassive smile upon her rigid features. + +The next day the doctor fainted in the street, and was picked up and +taken to the Cholera Hospital. And, indomitable as fate, death swept +over the street of the Madonna del Buon Cammino, over Vicolo del Monaco. +For it was Vicolo del Monaco--that name which filled Naples with terror, +and which, through the newspapers, was known to the whole world as the +place where the cholera raged in its fiercest form.[46] + + * * * * * + +The dark little chapel which sheltered the old visionary's confused +devotion has been razed to the ground by the new order of things which +has dawned over Naples at last, and Vicolo del Monaco is no more. Don +Dionisio sank unconscious from the dim thought-world of his superstition +into the impenetrable darkness of the great grave up there on the Campo +Santo dei Colerosi. + +The other, the fool, who for a moment had believed he could command +Death to stop short in his triumphant march, he is still alive, but with +the bitter vision of reality for all time shadowing his sight. So will +he sink, he also, into the great grave of oblivion; and of all those +who lived and suffered in the Vicolo del Monaco nothing will +remain--nothing. + +But behind a curtain in some dark little chapel stands the Madonna del +Buon Cammino, with the impassive smile upon her rigid features. + +[Footnote 34: "How beautiful, how sympathetic she is!"] + +[Footnote 35: "Madonna del Carmine indeed!"] + +[Footnote 36: "Your Madonna has not even got any hair on her head!"] + +[Footnote 37: "They say she has got no hair! but we shall soon see who +has the most beautiful hair!"] + +[Footnote 38: Gossips.] + +[Footnote 39: "Go and make thyself another gown, poor thing! Blessed San +Gennaro, what an ugly face they have given her, poor old creature!"] + +[Footnote 40: "Save me, save me, most holy Madonna!"] + +[Footnote 41: Cholera cemetery.] + +[Footnote 42: Poisoned.] + +[Footnote 43: "Dog-murderer!" "Assassin!"] + +[Footnote 44: "Poisoner!"] + +[Footnote 45: The state of collapse, characteristic of cholera, when the +body becomes cold.] + +[Footnote 46: Almost the whole alley died. An official report stated +that there were over thirty cases in a single hour.] + + + THE END + + + _Printed by_ R. & R. Clark, Limited, _Edinburgh_ + + + =Transcriber's Notes:= + - hyphenation, spelling and grammar have been preserved as in the + original (other than as listed below) + - Italian and Neapolitan sentences have been preserved as in the + original (other than as listed below) + Page 72, straight down there?' ==> straight down there?" + Page 158, foremost to defend.' ==> foremost to defend." + Page 186, et de Mise en Scéne ==> et de Mise en Scène + Page 251, Don Petrucchio's Farmacia ==> Don Petruccio's Farmacia + Page 293, un altra gonnella ==> un'altra gonnella + Page 303, give up all attemps ==> give up all attempts + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Vagaries, by Axel Munthe + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK VAGARIES *** + +***** This file should be named 38894-8.txt or 38894-8.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + https://www.gutenberg.org/3/8/8/9/38894/ + +Produced by Barbara Watson, Ross Cooling and the Online +Distributed Proofreading Canada Team at +http://www.pgdpcanada.net (This file was produced from +images generously made available by The Internet +Archive/Canadian Libraries) + + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: Vagaries + +Author: Axel Munthe + +Release Date: February 15, 2012 [EBook #38894] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1 + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK VAGARIES *** + + + + +Produced by Barbara Watson, Ross Cooling and the Online +Distributed Proofreading Canada Team at +http://www.pgdpcanada.net (This file was produced from +images generously made available by The Internet +Archive/Canadian Libraries) + + + + + + +</pre> + + + +<br /><br /> +<h1>VAGARIES</h1> +<br /><br /> +<h3><span class="smcap">By AXEL MUNTHE</span></h3> +<h4>AUTHOR OF 'LETTERS FROM A MOURNING CITY'</h4> +<br /><br /><br /> +<h3>LONDON<br /> +JOHN MURRAY, ALBEMARLE STREET<br /> +1898</h3> + + +<br /><br /><br /><br /> +<h2>INSTEAD OF A PREFACE</h2> + + +<p>He who has written these pages is no author; his life belongs to +reality, and does not leave him any peace for indulging in fiction, and, +besides, he has for nearly twenty years limited his best thoughts and +efforts to that special authorship which has for its only public +apothecaries. He thought it very easy and refreshing to write this +little book. The only difficulty about it has been to find a title, for +it turned out that, when confronted with this problem, neither the +writer nor any of the friends he consulted could say what stuff it was +that the book was made of—was it essays, stories, or what? Essays is +much too important a word for me to use, and stories it certainly is +not, for I cannot remember having ever tried to invent anything.</p> + +<p>Besides, isn't it so that in a story something always happens—and here, +as a rule, very little seems to me to happen. I do not know, but can it +be that it is life itself which "happens" in these pages, life as seen +by an individual who can but try to be as the Immortal Gods created him, +since conventionality long ago has given up in despair all hope of +licking him into shape?</p> + +<p>Now I want to tell you what made me publish this book—what made me +write it cannot interest you. One day I found sitting in my +consulting-room a young lady with a huge parcel on her knee. I asked her +what I could do for her, and she began by telling me a long tale of woe +about herself. She said that nothing interested her, nothing amused +her, she was bored to death by everything and everybody. She could get +anything she wished to have, she could go anywhere she liked, but she +did not wish for anything, she did not want to go anywhere.</p> + +<p>Her life was passed in idle luxury, useless to herself and to everybody +else, said she. Her parents had ended by dragging her from one physician +to another: one had prescribed Egypt, where they had spent the whole +winter; another Cannes, where they had bought a big villa; a third India +and Japan, which they had visited in their fine yacht. "But you are the +only doctor who has done me any good," she said. "I have felt more +happiness during this past week than I have done for years. I owe it to +you, and I have come to thank you for it." She began rapidly to unfasten +her parcel, and I stared at her in amazement while she produced from it +one big doll after another, and quite unceremoniously placed them in a +row on my writing-table amongst all my books and papers. There were +twelve dolls in all, and you never saw such dolls. Some of them were +dressed in well-fitting tailor-made jackets and skirts; some were +evidently off for a yachting trip in blue serge suits and sailor hats; +some wore smart silk dresses covered with lace and frills, and hats +trimmed with huge ostrich feathers; and some looked as if they had only +just returned from the Queen's Drawing-room.</p> + +<p>I am accustomed to have queer people in my consulting-room, and I +thought I noticed something glistening in her eyes. "You see, Doctor," +said she with uncertain voice, "I never thought I could be of any good +to anybody. I used to send money to charities at home, but all I did +was to write out a cheque, and I cannot say I ever felt the slightest +satisfaction in doing it. The other day I happened to come across that +article about Toys in an old <i>Blackwood's Magazine</i>,<a name="FNanchor_1_1" id="FNanchor_1_1"></a><a href="#Footnote_1_1" class="fnanchor">[1]</a> and since then I +have been working from morning till evening to dress up all these dolls +for the poor children you spoke about. I have done it all by myself, and +I have felt so strangely happy the whole time."</p> + +<p>And I, who had forgotten all about this little escapade from the toil of +my everyday life, I looked at the sweet face smiling through the tears, +I looked at the long row of dolls who stared approvingly at me from +among all my medical paraphernalia on the writing-table. And for the +first and last time in my life did I feel the ineffable joy of literary +triumph, for the first and last time in my life did I feel that mystic +power of being able to move others.</p> + +<p>A smart carriage was waiting for her at the door, but we sent it away, +and I put the kind donor and some of her dolls in a cab, and I remember +we went to see Petruccio. I could see by her shyness that it was the +first time she had entered the home of the poor. She gave each child a +magnificent doll, and she blushed with delight when she saw the little +sisters' beaming faces and heard the poor mother's "God bless you!" +Hardly had a week passed before she brought me another dozen of dolls, +and twelve more sick and destitute children forgot all about their +misery. At Christmas I got up a big festa at the Jardin-des-Plantes +quarter, where most of the poor Italians live, and the Christmas-tree +was loaded with dolls of all sizes and descriptions. She went on +bringing me more and more dolls, and there came a time when I did not +know what to do with them, for I had more dolls than patients. Every +chair and table in my rooms was occupied by a doll, and people asked me +to show them "the dear children," and when I told them I was a bachelor +and had not got any they would not believe me. To tell you the truth, +when spring came I sent the lady to St. Moritz for change of air. I have +never seen her since, but should she come across this book she may know +that it was she and her dolls who decided its publication, and it is in +her honour I have given the Toy article the first place.</p> + +<p>There is nothing like success. Some time ago I received a letter from a +man I do not know, who wrote me that he was the mayor of a large town. +He said that after having read a little paper called "For those who love +Music"<a name="FNanchor_2_2" id="FNanchor_2_2"></a><a href="#Footnote_2_2" class="fnanchor">[2]</a> he had revoked the order which forbade organ-grinders to play +in the streets of his town, and had told his children always to give the +old man a penny, for "perhaps it is Don Gaetano!" I admit I was +immensely flattered by this, and in honour of the kind mayor I have +placed his paper second.</p> + +<p>But is this to be the end of my literary fame, or will any other +laurel-leaf mark some hitherto unpublished page of this volume? What +about "Blackcock-shooting"? Will ever an English mother write to me that +she is teaching her son that he can grow up every inch a man without +having ever killed a half-tame pheasant or a grouse, or stealthily crept +up to murder a beautiful stag?</p> + +<p>I have not heard from the Germans in Capri yet, but when that letter +comes I believe my literary ambition will have reached its zenith, and +that I shall relapse into silence again.</p> + +<div class="blockquot"><p><span class="smcap">Rome</span>, <i>Spring</i> 1898.</p></div> + + +<br /><br /><br /><br /> +<h2>CONTENTS</h2> + +<table summary="CONTENTS" width="60%"> +<tr> +<td class="tdl"></td> +<td class="tdr">PAGE</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="tdl"><a href="#TOYS"><span class="smcap">Toys</span></a></td> +<td class="tdr">1</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="tdl"><a href="#FOR_THOSE_WHO_LOVE_MUSIC"><span class="smcap">For those who love Music</span></a></td> +<td class="tdr">24</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="tdl"><a href="#POLITICAL_AGITATIONS_IN_CAPRI"><span class="smcap">Political Agitations in Capri</span></a></td> +<td class="tdr">44</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="tdl"><a href="#MENAGERIE"><span class="smcap">Menagerie</span></a></td> +<td class="tdr">78</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="tdl"><a href="#ITALY_IN_PARIS"><span class="smcap">Italy in Paris</span></a></td> +<td class="tdr">102</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="tdl"><a href="#BLACKCOCK-SHOOTING"><span class="smcap">Blackcock-shooting</span></a></td> +<td class="tdr">125</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="tdl"><a href="#TO_mdash"><span class="smcap">To</span> ——</a></td> +<td class="tdr">158</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="tdl"><a href="#MONSIEUR_ALFREDO"><span class="smcap">Monsieur Alfredo</span></a></td> +<td class="tdr">169</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="tdl"><a href="#MONT_BLANC"><span class="smcap">Mont Blanc, King of the Mountains</span></a></td> +<td class="tdr">192</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="tdl"><a href="#RAFFAELLA"><span class="smcap">Raffaella</span></a></td> +<td class="tdr">206</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="tdl"><a href="#THE_DOGS_IN_CAPRI"><span class="smcap">The Dogs in Capri, an interior</span></a></td> +<td class="tdr">224</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="tdl"><a href="#ZOOLOGY"><span class="smcap">Zoology</span></a></td> +<td class="tdr">253</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="tdl"><a href="#HYPOCHONDRIA"><span class="smcap">Hypochondria</span></a></td> +<td class="tdr">262</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="tdl"><a href="#LA_MADONNA_DEL_BUON_CAMMINO"><span class="smcap">La Madonna del Buon Cammino</span></a></td> +<td class="tdr">280</td> +</tr> +</table> + + +<br /><br /><br /><br /> +<h1>VAGARIES</h1> + +<h2><a name="TOYS" id="TOYS"></a>TOYS</h2> + +<h3>FROM THE PARIS HORIZON</h3> + + +<p>In Paris the New Year is awakened by the laughter of children, the dawn +of its first day glows in rosy joy on small round cheeks, and lit up by +the light from children's sparkling eyes, the curtain rises upon the +fairy world of toys.</p> + +<p>This world of toys is a faithful miniature of our own, the same +perpetual evolution, the same struggle for existence, goes on there as +here. Types rise and vanish just as with us; the strongest and +best-fitted individuals survive, defying time, whilst the weaker and +less gifted are supplanted and die out.</p> + +<p>To the former, for instance, belongs the doll, whose individual type +centuries may have modified, but whose idea is eternal, whose soul lives +on with the imperishable youth of the gods. The doll is thousands of +years old; it has been found in the graves of little Roman children, and +the archæologists of coming generations will find it amongst the remains +of our culture. The children of Pompeii and Herculaneum used to trundle +hoops just as you and I did when we were small, and who knows whether +the rocking-horse on which we rode as boys is not a lineal descendant of +that proud charger into whose wooden flanks the children of Francis I. +dug their heels. The drum is also inaccessible to the variation of time; +through centuries it has beaten the Christmas and New Year's day's +reveille in the nursery to the battles of the tin-soldiers, and it will +continue to beat as long as there are boys' arms to wield the +drum-sticks and grown-up people's tympanums to be deafened. The +tin-soldier views the future with calm; he will not lay down his arms +until the day of the general disarmament, and we are still a long way +from universal peace. Neither will the toy-sword disappear; it is the +nursery-symbol of the ineradicable vice of our race, the lust for +fighting. Foolscap-crowned and bell-ringing harlequins will also defy +time; they will exist in the toy-world as long as there are fools in our +world. Gold-laced knights with big swords at their sides, curly-locked +princesses with satin shoes on dainty feet, stalwart musketeers with top +boots and big moustachios—all are types which still hold their own +pretty well. The Japanese doll is as yet young, but a brilliant future +lies before her.</p> + +<p>Amongst the toy-people who are gradually diminishing may be mentioned +monks, hobgoblins, and kings—an evil omen for the matter of that. I +don't wish to make any one uneasy, but it is a fact that the demand for +kings has considerably decreased of late—my studies in toy-anthropology +do not allow me the slightest doubt on this subject. It is not for me to +try to explain the cause of this serious phenomenon—I understand well +that this topic is a painful one, and shall not persist.</p> + +<p>Hobgoblins—who in our world are growing more and more ill at ease since +the locomotives began to pant through the forests, and who have sought +and found a refuge in the toy-world, in picture-books, and +fairy-tales—they begin to decrease, even they; they do not leap any +longer with the same wild energy when they are let loose out of their +boxes, and they do not know how to inspire the same terrifying respect +as before. They are doomed to die; a few generations more and wet-nurses +and nursery-maids will be studying physics, and then there will be an +end to hobgoblins and Jack-in-the-boxes! For my part I shall regret +them.</p> + +<p>Our social life expresses itself even through toys, and the rising +generation writes the history of its civilisation in the children's +books. Our age is the age of scientific inquiry, and its sons have no +time for dreams; the generation which is growing up moves in a world of +thought totally different from ours. Nowadays Tom Thumb is left to take +care of himself in the trackless forest, and poor Robinson Crusoe, with +whom we kept such faithful company, is feeling more and more lonely on +his desert island with our common friend Friday and the patient goat +whose neck we so often patted in our dreams. Nowadays boy-thoughts +travel with Phileas Fogg <i>Round the World in Eighty Days</i>, or undertake +fearlessly a journey to the moon with carefully calculated pace of I +don't know how many miles in a second, and their knapsacks stuffed with +physical science. Nowadays a little future Edison sits meditating in +his nursery laboratory, trying to stun a fly beneath the bell of a +little air-pump, or he communicates with his little sister by means of a +lilliputian telephone—when we only knew how to besiege toy-fortresses +with pop-guns and arrange tin-soldiers' battles, limiting our scientific +inquiries to that bloodless vivisection which consisted in ripping up +the stomachs of all our dolls and pulling to pieces everything we came +across to find out what was inside. These scientific toys were almost +unknown some ten years ago,—these <i>jouets scientifiques</i> which now rank +so high in toy-shops, and offer perhaps the greatest attraction for the +children of the present. <i>The tranquillity of parents and the education +of children</i> is the device on these toys—yes, there is no doubt that +the children's instruction has been thought of, but their imagination, +what is to become of that, now that even Christmas presents give +lessons in chemistry and physics? And all this artificially increased +modern thirst for knowledge, does it not destroy the germ of romance +which was implanted in the child's mind? does it not drive away that +rosy poetry of dreamland which is the morning glow of the awakening +thought? Maybe I am wrong, but it sometimes seems to me that there is +less laughter in the nurseries now than before, that the children's +faces are growing more earnest. And if I am to be quite frank I must +confess that I fight rather shy of these modern toys, and have never +bought any of them for my little friends.</p> + +<p>The same claim for reality which has brought forward these scientific +toys is also shown in the multitude of political characters one comes +across in the toy-world—Bismarck, with his bloodshot eyes and three +tufts of hair; the "Zulu," the "Boer," etc. etc. The famous Tonquin +treasures have not yet been brought to light, but we have long ago made +acquaintance with the Tonquinese and his long nose like Mons. Jules +Ferry; and the recent trouble in the Balkan states resulted in last +year's novelty, <i>le cri de Bulgare</i>.<a name="FNanchor_3_3" id="FNanchor_3_3"></a><a href="#Footnote_3_3" class="fnanchor">[3]</a></p> + +<p>Do not, however, imagine that the <i>rôle</i> of politics in the toy-world is +limited to this—it is far more extensive, far more important. I now +mean to dwell on this question for a moment or two, and wish to say a +few words concerning <i>the political agitations of the toy-world</i>.</p> + +<p>The political agitations of the toy-world—a weighty, and hitherto +rather neglected topic—are like the swell, following the political +storms which agitate our own world. The horizon which here opens before +the eyes of the observer is, however, too vast to be framed in this +small paper. I therefore propose to limit the subject to <i>the French +toy-politics after l'année terrible</i> (1870-71).</p> + +<p>The war between Germany and France is over long ago, but the toy-world +still resounds with the echo of the clash of arms of 1870; fighting +still continues with unabated ardour in the lilliputian world, where the +Bismarcks and the Moltkes of the German toy-manufactories each Christmas +fight new battles with <i>l'Article de Paris</i>.</p> + +<p>Victorious by virtue of their cheapness, the Germans advance. From the +Black Forest descend every Christmas hordes of wooden oxen, sheep, +horses, and dogs to measure themselves against the wares of the +wood-carvers of the Vosges (<i>St. Claude, etc. etc.</i>). From Hamburg, +Nuremburg, and Berlin emigrate every winter thousands of dolls to +dispute the favour of the buyers with their French colleagues, and every +Christmas dense squadrons of spike-helmeted Prussian tin-soldiers cross +the Rhine to invade the toy-shops and nurseries of France. The struggle +is unequal, the competition too great. Siebenburgen and Tyrol furnish at +will a complete chemist's shop, a plentifully-supplied grocery store, or +a well-stocked farm with crops and implements, cows, sheep, and goats +grazing on the verdant pasture, for three francs fifty centimes. Hamburg +at the same moderate price offers a doll irreproachable to the +superficial observer, a doll with glass eyes, curly hair, and one change +of clothes, whilst the little Parisienne has already spent double that +sum on her toilet alone, and therefore cannot condescend to be yours for +less than half a louis d'or. Nuremburg mobilises a whole regiment of +tin-soldiers, baggage waggons, and artillery (Krupp model), included, +at the same price for which the toy-arsenals of Marais set on foot one +single battalion of "Chasseurs d'Afrique."</p> + +<p>The situation is gloomy—the French toys retire all along the line.</p> + +<p>But France will never be annihilated! And if the depths of a French +tin-soldier's soul were sounded, there would be found under the surface +of reserve exacted by discipline, the same glorious dreams of revenge +which inspired the volunteers raised by Gambetta from out of the earth. +The French tin-soldier looks towards the east; he knows that he is still +powerless to stop the invasion of the German toy-hordes—he is bound by +Article 4 in the Frankfort treaty of peace, but he bides his time.<a name="FNanchor_4_4" id="FNanchor_4_4"></a><a href="#Footnote_4_4" class="fnanchor">[4]</a></p> + +<p>And Revenge is near. This time also the signal for rising has been given +from Belleville, by a Gambetta of the toy-world. Some years ago a poor +workman at Belleville got a sudden idea, an idea that since then has +engendered an army which would realise the dream of eternal peace, and +keep in check the assembled troops of all Europe were it a question of +number alone. He sets on foot 5,000,000 soldiers a year. The origin of +these soldiers is humble, but so was Napoleon's. They spring from old +sardine boxes. Thrown away on the dust-heap, the sardine box is saved +from annihilation by the dust-man, who sells it to a rag-merchant in +Belleville or Buttes Chaumont, who in his turn disposes of it to a +specialist, who prepares it for the manufactories. The warriors are cut +out of the bottom of the box. The lid and sides are used for making +guns, railway-carriages, bicycles, etc. etc. All this may seem to you +very unimportant at first sight, but there is now in Belleville a large +manufactory founded on this idea of utilising old sardine boxes, which +occupies no less than two hundred workmen and produces every year over +two milliards of tin toys. I went there the other day, and no one +suspecting that I was a political correspondent, I was admitted without +difficulty to view the gigantic arsenal and its 5,000,000 warriors. The +poor workman out of whose head the fully-armed tin-soldiers +sprung—<i>viâ</i> the sardine box—is now a rich man, and, what is more, an +eager and keen-sighted patriot, who in his sphere has deserved well of +his country. After retreating for years the French tin-soldiers once +more advance; the German spiked-helmets retire every Christmas from the +conquered positions in French nurseries, and maybe the time is not far +off when the tricolour shall wave over the toy-shops of Berlin—a small +revanche <i>en attendant</i> the great one.</p> + +<p>Many years have elapsed since the enemy placed his heel upon the neck of +fallen France, but still to-day Paris is the metropolis of human +culture. Competition has led the Article de Paris to a commercial Sedan, +and from a financial point of view <i>le jouet Parisien</i> no longer belongs +to the great powers of the toy-world. But the Paris doll will never +admit the superiority of her German rival; she bears the stamp of +nobility on her brow, and she means to rule the doll-world as before by +right of her undisputed rank and her artistic refinement. It surely +needs very little human knowledge to distinguish her at once, the +graceful Parisienne with her <i>fin sourire</i> and her expressive eyes, from +one of the dull beauties of Nuremburg or Hamburg, who, by the +stereotyped grin on her carmine lips, and the staring, vacant eyes, +immediately reveals her Teutonic origin. Should any hesitation be +possible a glance at her feet will suffice—the Parisienne's foot is +small and dainty, and she is always shod with a certain coquetry, whilst +the daughter of Germany is characteristically careless of her +<i>chaussure—tout comme chez nous</i>, for the matter of that. As for the +rest of her wardrobe—to leave the anthropological side of the +question—Germany, in spite of her war indemnity of five milliards, is +incapable of producing a tasteful doll-toilet; the delicate fingers of a +Paris grisette are required for this. It is therefore considered the +proper thing among German dolls of fashion to import their dresses from +some doll-Worth in Paris. I can even tell you in parenthesis that the +really distinguished German dolls not only send to Paris for their +dresses but also for their heads. The German doll manufacturers, +incapable themselves of producing pretty and expressive doll faces, buy +their dolls' heads by retail from the porcelain factories of Montreux +and St. Maurice, where they are modelled by first-rate artists, such as +a Carrier-Belleuse and others.</p> + +<p>Up till now I have confined myself to the upper classes of doll society, +but even amongst the well-to-do middle-class dolls of ten to fifteen +francs apiece, the difference between German and French is palpable at +first sight. The further one descends into the lower regions of society, +in the doll <i>bourgeoisie</i>, the less clear becomes the national type. I +will undertake, however, to recognise my French friend even amongst +dolls of five francs apiece. To determine the nationality of a one-franc +doll, it is necessary to possess great preliminary knowledge and much +natural aptitude. For the benefit of future explorers in these still +obscure regions of anthropology I may here point out an important item +in the necessary physical examination—the doll must be shaken. If there +is a rattling inside she is probably French, for the Paris grisettes who +make these dolls have a habit of putting some pebbles inside them, +which, I am told, tends to develop the taste for vivisection amongst the +rising generation.</p> + +<p>Lower down in the series where the transition type of Darwin is found, +where the doll is without either arms or legs, and where every trace of +soul has died out from her impassive wooden face, stamped with the same +passion-free calm which characterises the marble folk of antiquity, or +where an unconscious smile alone glides over the rudimentary features +into which the wax has hardened, where the nose is nothing but a +prophetic outline, and where the black eyes are still shaded by the +chaotic darkness out of which the first doll rose—there all national +distinctions cease, there the embryo doll lives her life of Arcadian +simplicity, undisturbed by all political agitations in the land which +gave her birth; the doll <i>à treize sous</i> does not emigrate, maybe from +patriotic motives, maybe from lack of initiative.<a name="FNanchor_5_5" id="FNanchor_5_5"></a><a href="#Footnote_5_5" class="fnanchor">[5]</a> Her rôle in life is +humble; she belongs to the despised. Her place in the large toy-shops +is in a dark corner behind the other dolls, who stretch forth their +jointed arms towards better-to-do purchasers, and with gleaming glass +eyes and laughing lips appropriate the admiring glances of all the +customers. But far away in the deserted streets of the suburbs, where +the whole toy-shop consists of a portable table and the public of a +crowd of ragged urchins,—there the doll <i>à treize sous</i> reigns supreme. +By the flickering light of the lantern illuminating the modest +fairy-world which Christmas and the New Year display to the children of +the poor, there the despised doll becomes beautiful as a queen and is +surrounded by her whole court of admirers.</p> + +<p>And I myself am one of her admirers. Not one of the fashionable beauties +of the Magasin du Louvre has ever made my heart beat one whit the +faster; not one of the charming coquettes of the Bon Marché has +succeeded in catching me in the net of her blond tresses; but I admit +the tender sympathy with which my eyes rest upon the coarse features of +the doll <i>à treize sous</i>. Every one to his taste—I think she is +handsome; I cannot help it. And we have often met; chance leads me +frequently across her path. But fancy if it were not chance! fancy if +instead it was my undeclared affection which so often guided my steps to +these places where I knew I should meet my sweetheart! fancy if I were +falling in love at last! At all events I haven't said anything to her, +nor has she ever said a word to me either of encouragement or rebuff. +But, as I said before, we often meet at the houses of mutual friends, +and sometimes, especially at Christmas and New Year, have we come +together there. My visit does not impress them very much, but what +happiness does not the doll spread around her! Realising my subordinate +rôle I willingly bow before the superior social talents of my companion, +and silently in a corner by myself I enjoy her success. I don't know how +she manages it, but she has hardly crossed the threshold before it seems +to grow brighter inside the dark garret where live the children of +destitution. The light radiates from the sparkling eyes of the little +ones, glimmers in a faint smile on the pale cheek of the sick brother, +and falls like a halo round the bald head of the doll. The little fellow +crawling on the floor suddenly ceases his sobbing; he forgets that he is +hungry, forgets that he is cold, and with radiant joy he stretches out +his arms to welcome the unexpected guest. And later at night, when it is +time for me to go away, when the children of the rich have danced +themselves tired round the Christmas tree, when the soldier's bugle has +sounded in the boys' nursery, and when the little girls' smart dolls +have been put to sleep each in their dainty bed—then little sister up +in the garret tenderly wraps mother's ragged shawl round her beloved +doll, for the night is cold and the doll has nothing on; and so they +fall asleep side by side together, the pauper doll and her grateful +little admirer.</p> + +<p>Despised and ridiculed by us grown-up people, whose eyes have been led +astray by the modern demand for realism, it is nevertheless a fact that +the doll <i>à treize sous</i> in the freshness of her primitive naïveté +approaches nearer the ideal than the costly beauties of the Louvre and +Bon Marché, who have reached the highest summit of refinement. We +grown-up people have lost the faculty of understanding this from the +moment we lost the simplicity of our childhood, but our teacher in this, +as in many other things, is the little chap who still crawls about on +the floor. Put a smart doll of fashion side by side with a simple pauper +doll whose shape is as yet barely human, and you will see that the +child usually stretches out his arms towards the latter. It sounds like +a paradox, but it is a fact that you can easily verify for yourself; +these cheap toys are, as a rule, preferred even by the children of the +rich—that is to say, so long as they are real children and unconscious +of the value of money. Later on, when they have acquired this knowledge, +they are driven out from the Eden of childhood, their eyes are opened to +the nakedness of the pauper doll, and what I have just said ceases to be +true.</p> + +<p>But the "political agitations"—what has become of them? Far away from +all political storms and quarrels, my thoughts have fled to the garret +idyll of the pauper doll; I have tried to sketch her as she has so often +revealed herself to me; I have lifted a corner of the veil of unmerited +oblivion which conceals her humble existence, there where she lives to +bring joy to those whom the world rears to sorrow. I have done so as a +tribute of gratitude for the pure joy which she has so often given me +also, although I am myself too old to play with dolls. But, thank God, I +am not too old to look on!</p> + +<p>The doll is not old, and old age will never touch her—she will never +grow old; she dies young, even as the hero, beloved of the gods. She +dies young, and the first few weeks of the New Year have hardly passed +away before she wends her way to the strange Elysian fields, where all +that survives of broken toys sleeps under the shade of withered +Christmas trees.</p> + + +<br /><br /><br /><br /> +<h2><a name="FOR_THOSE_WHO_LOVE_MUSIC" id="FOR_THOSE_WHO_LOVE_MUSIC"></a>FOR THOSE WHO LOVE MUSIC</h2> + + +<p>I had engaged him by the year. Twice a week he came and went through his +whole répertoire, and lately, out of sympathy for me, he would play the +Miserere of the <i>Trovatore</i>, which was his show piece, twice over. He +stood there in the middle of the street looking steadfastly up at my +windows while he played, and when he had finished he would take off his +hat with a "Addio Signor!"</p> + +<p>It is well known that the barrel-organ, like the violin, gets a fuller +and more sympathetic tone the older it is. The old artist had an +excellent instrument, not of the modern noisy type which imitates a +whole orchestra with flutes and bells and beats of drums, but a +melancholy old-fashioned barrel-organ which knew how to lend a dreamy +mystery to the gayest allegretto, and in whose proudest tempo di Marcia +there sounded an unmistakable undertone of resignation. And in the +tenderer pieces of the répertoire, where the melody, muffled and +staggering like a cracked old human voice, groped its way amongst the +rusty pipes of the treble, then there was a trembling in the bass like +suppressed sobs. Now and then the voice of the tired organ failed it +completely, and then the old man would resignedly turn the handle during +some bars of rest more touching in their eloquent silence than any +music.</p> + +<p>True, the instrument was itself very expressive, but the old man had +surely his share in the sensation of melancholy which came over me +whenever I heard his music. He had his beat in the poor quarter behind +the Jardin des Plantes, and many times during my solitary rambles up +there had I stopped and taken my place among the scanty audience of +ragged street boys which surrounded him.</p> + +<p>We made acquaintance one misty dark autumn day. I sat on a bench under +the fading trees, which in vain had tried to deck the gloomy square with +a little summer, and now hopelessly suffered their leaves to fall; and, +like a melancholy accompaniment to my dreamy thoughts, the old +barrel-organ in the slum close by coughed out the aria from the last act +of the Traviata: "Addio del passato bei sogni ridenti!"</p> + +<p>I startled as the music stopped. The old man had gone through his whole +répertoire, and after a despairing inspection of his audience he +resignedly tucked the monkey under his cloak and prepared to depart. I +have always liked barrel-organs, and I have a sufficiently correct ear +to distinguish good music from bad; so I went up and thanked him and +asked him to play a little longer, unless he was too tired in the arm. I +am afraid he was not spoiled by praise, for he looked at me with a sad, +incredulous expression which pained me, and with an almost shy +hesitation he asked me if it was any special piece I wished to hear. I +left the choice to the old man. After a mysterious manipulation with +some screws under the organ, which was answered from its depths by a +half-smothered groan, he began slowly and with a certain solemnity to +turn the handle, and with a friendly glance at me, he said, "<i>Questo è +per gli amici</i>."<a name="FNanchor_6_6" id="FNanchor_6_6"></a><a href="#Footnote_6_6" class="fnanchor">[6]</a></p> + +<p>It was a tune I had not heard him play before, but I knew well the sweet +old melody, and half aloud I searched my memory for the words of perhaps +the finest folk-song of Naples:</p> + +<div class="poem2"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"Fenestra che luciva e mò non luce</span> +<span class="i0"> Segn' è ca Nenna mia stace malata</span> +<span class="i0"> S' affaccia la sorella e me lo dice:</span> +<span class="i0"> Nennella toja è morta e s' è aterrata</span> +<span class="i0"> Chiagneva sempe ca dormeva sola,</span> +<span class="i0"> Mò dorme in distìnta compagnia."</span> +</div></div> + + +<p>He looked at me with a shy interest while he played, and when he had +finished he bared his gray head; I also raised my hat, and thus our +acquaintance was made.</p> + +<p>It was not difficult to see that times were hard—the old man's clothes +were doubtful, and the pallor of poverty lay over his withered features, +where I read the story of a long life of failure. He came from the +mountains around Monte Cassino, so he informed me, but where the monkey +hailed from I never quite got to know.</p> + +<p>Thus we met from time to time during my rambles in the poor quarters. +Had I a moment to spare I stopped for a while to listen to a tune or +two, as I saw that it gratified the old man, and since I always carried +a lump of sugar in my pocket for any dog acquaintance I might possibly +meet, I soon made friends with the monkey also. The relations between +the little monkey and her impresario were unusually cordial, and this +notwithstanding that she had completely failed to fulfil the +expectations which had been founded upon her—she had never been able to +learn a single trick, the old man told me. Thus all attempts at +education had long ago been abandoned, and she sat there huddled +together on her barrel-organ and did nothing at all. Her face was sad, +like that of most animals, and her thoughts were far away. But now and +then she woke up from her dreams, and her eyes could then take a +suspicious, almost malignant expression, as they lit upon some of the +street boys who crowded round her tribune and tried to pull her tail, +which stuck out from her little gold-laced garibaldi. To me she was +always very amiable; confidently she laid her wrinkled hand in mine and +absently she accepted the little attentions I was able to offer her. She +was very fond of sweetmeats, and burnt almonds were, in her opinion, +the most delectable thing in the world.</p> + +<p>Since the old man had once recognised his musical friend on a balcony of +the Hôtel de l'Avenir, he often came and played under my windows. Later +on he became engaged, as already said, to come regularly and play twice +a week,—it may, perhaps, appear superfluous for one who was studying +medicine, but the old man's terms were so small, and you know I have +always been so fond of music. Besides it was the only recreation at +hand—I was working hard in the Hôtel de l'Avenir, for I was to take my +degree in the spring.</p> + +<p>So passed the autumn, and the hard time came. The rich tried on the new +winter fashions, and the poor shivered with the cold. It became more and +more difficult for well-gloved hands to leave the warm muff or the +fur-lined coat to take out a copper for the beggar, and more and more +desperate became the struggle for bread amongst the problematical +existences of the street. Before hopelessly-closed windows small +half-frozen artistes gave concerts in the courtyards; unnoticed +resounded the most telling pieces of the répertoire about <i>La bella +Napoli</i> and <i>Santa Lucia</i>, while stiffened fingers twanged the +mandoline, and the little sister, shivering with cold, banged the +tambourine. In vain the old street-singer sang with hoarse pathos the +song about <i>La Gloire</i> and <i>La Patrie</i>, and in vain my friend played +that piece <i>per gli amici</i>—thicker and thicker fell the snowflakes over +the humbly-bared heads, and scarcer and scarcer fell the coppers into +the outstretched hats.</p> + +<p>Now and then I came across my friend, and we always had, as before, a +kind word for one another. He was now wrapped up in an old Abruzzi +cloak, and I noticed that the greater the cold became the faster did he +turn the handle to keep himself warm; and towards December the Miserere +itself was performed in allegretto.</p> + +<p>The monkey had now become civilian, and wrapped up her little thin body +in a long ulster such as Englishmen wear; but she was fearfully cold +notwithstanding, and, forgetful of all etiquette, more and more often +she jumped from the barrel-organ and crept in under the old man's cloak.</p> + +<p>And while they were suffering out there in the cold I sat at home in my +cosy, warm room, and instead of helping them, I forgot all about them, +more and more taken up as I was with my coming examination, with no +thought but for myself. And then one day I suddenly left my lodgings and +removed to the Hôtel Dieu to take the place of a comrade, and weeks +passed before I put my foot out of the hospital.</p> + +<p>I remember it so well, it was the very New Year's Day we met each other +again. I was crossing the Place de Notre Dame, mass was just over, and +the people were streaming out of the old cathedral. As usual, a row of +beggars was standing before the door, imploring the charity of the +churchgoers. The severe winter had increased their number, and besides +the usual beggars, cripples and blind, who were always by the church +porch, reciting in loud voices the history of their misery, there stood +a silent rank of Poverty's accidental recruits—poor fellows whose daily +bread had been buried under the snow, and whose pride the cold had at +last benumbed. At the farther end, and at some distance from the others, +an old man stood with bent head and outstretched hat, and with painful +surprise I recognised my friend in his threadbare old coat without the +Abruzzi cloak, without the barrel-organ, without the monkey. My first +impulse was to go up to him, but an uneasy feeling of I do not know +what held me back; I felt that I blushed and I did not move from my +place. Every now and then a passer-by stopped for a moment and made as +if to search his pocket, but I did not see a single copper fall into the +old man's hat. The place became gradually deserted, and one beggar after +another trotted off with his little earnings. At last a child came out +of the church, led by a gentleman in mourning; the child pointed towards +the old man, and then ran up to him and laid a silver coin in his hat. +The old man humbly bowed his head in thanks, and even I, with my +unfortunate absent-mindedness, was very nearly thanking the little donor +also, so pleased was I. My friend carefully wrapped up the precious gift +in an old pocket-handkerchief, and stooping forward, as if still +carrying the barrel-organ on his back, he walked off.</p> + +<p>I happened to be quite free that morning, and, thinking that a little +walk before luncheon could do me no harm after the hospital air, I +followed him at a short distance across the Seine. Once or twice I +nearly caught him up, and all but tapped him on the shoulder, with a +"Buon giorno, Don Gaetano!" Yet, without exactly knowing why, I drew +back at the last moment and let him get a few paces ahead of me again.</p> + +<p>An icy wind blew straight against us, and I drew my fur cloak closer +round me. But just then it suddenly struck me to ask myself why, after +all, it was I who owned such a warm and comfortable fur cloak, whilst +the old man who tramped along in front of me had only a threadbare old +coat? And why was it for me that luncheon was waiting, and not for him? +Why should I have a good blazing fire burning in my cosy room, while the +old man had to wander about the streets the whole day long to find his +food, and in the evening go home to his miserable garret and, +unprotected against the cold of the winter night, prepare for the next +day's struggle for bread?</p> + +<p>And it suddenly dawned upon me why I had blushed when I saw him at Notre +Dame, and why I could not make up my mind to go and speak to him—I felt +ashamed before this old man, I felt ashamed at life's unmerited +generosity to me and its severity to him. I felt as if I had taken +something from him which I ought to restore to him; and I began to +wonder whether it might be the fur coat. But I got no further in my +meditations, for the old man stopped and looked in at a shop window. We +had just crossed the Place Maubert and turned into the Boulevard St. +Germain; the boulevard was full of people, so that, without being +noticed, I could approach him quite close. He was standing before an +elegant confectioner's shop, and to my surprise he entered without +hesitation. I took up my position before the shop window, alongside some +shivering street arabs who stood there, absorbed in the contemplation of +the unattainable delicacies within, and I watched the old man carefully +untie his pocket-handkerchief and lay the little girl's gift upon the +counter. I had hardly time to draw back before he came out with a red +paper bag of sweets in his hand, and with rapid steps he started off in +the direction of the Jardin des Plantes.</p> + +<p>I was very much astonished at what I had seen, and my curiosity made me +follow him. He slackened his pace at one of the little slums behind +Hôpital de la Pitié, and I saw him disappear into a dirty old house. I +waited outside a minute or two, and then I groped my way through the +pitch-dark entrance, climbed up a filthy staircase, and found a door +slightly ajar. An icy, dark room, in the middle three ragged little +children crouched together around a half-extinct brazier, in the corner +the only furniture in the room—a clean iron bedstead, with crucifix and +rosary hung on the wall above it, and by the window an image of the +Madonna adorned with gaudy paper flowers; I was in Italy, in my poor, +exiled Italy. And in the purest Tuscan the eldest sister informed me +that Don Gaetano lived in the garret. I went up there and knocked, but +no one answered, so I opened the door myself. The room was brightly lit +up by a blazing fire. With his back towards the door, Don Gaetano was on +his knees before the stove busy heating a little saucepan over the fire, +beside him on the floor lay an old mattress with the well-known Abruzzi +cloak thrown over it, and close by, spread out on a newspaper, were +various delicacies—an orange, walnuts, and raisins, and there also was +the red paper bag. Don Gaetano dropped a lump of sugar into the +saucepan, stirred it with a stick, and in a persuasive voice I heard +him say, "<i>Che bella roba, che bella roba, quanto è buono questa latte +con lo zucchero! Non piange anima mia, adesso siamo pronti!</i>"<a name="FNanchor_7_7" id="FNanchor_7_7"></a><a href="#Footnote_7_7" class="fnanchor">[7]</a></p> + +<p>A slight rustling was heard beneath the Abruzzi cloak, and a black +little hand was stretched out towards the red paper bag.</p> + +<p>"<i>Primo il latte, primo il latte</i>," admonished the old man. "<i>Non +importa, piglia tu una</i>,"<a name="FNanchor_8_8" id="FNanchor_8_8"></a><a href="#Footnote_8_8" class="fnanchor">[8]</a> he repented, and took a big burnt almond +out of the paper bag; the little hand disappeared, and a crunching was +heard under the cloak. Don Gaetano poured the warm milk in a saucer, and +then he carefully lifted up a corner of the cloak. There lay the poor +little monkey with heaving breast and eyes glowing with fever. Her face +had become so small, and her complexion was ashy gray. The old man took +her on his knees, and tenderly as a mother he poured some spoonfuls of +the warm milk into her mouth. She looked with indifferent eyes towards +the delicacies on the table, and absently she let her fingers pass +through her master's beard. She was so tired that she could hardly hold +her head up, and now and then she coughed so that her thin little body +trembled, and she pressed both her hands to her temples. Don Gaetano +shook his head sadly, and carefully laid the little invalid back under +the cloak.</p> + +<p>A feeble blush spread over the old man's face as he caught sight of me. +I told him that I had happened to be passing by just as he was entering +his house, and that I took the liberty of following him upstairs in +order to bid him good-morning and to give him my new address, in the +hope that he would come and play to me as before. I involuntarily looked +round for the barrel-organ as I spoke, and Don Gaetano, who understood, +informed me that he no longer played the organ—he sang. I glanced at +the precious pile of wood beside the fireplace, at the new blanket that +hung before the window to keep out the draught, at the delicacies on the +newspaper—and I also understood.</p> + +<p>The monkey had been ill three weeks—<i>la febbre</i>, explained the old man. +We knelt one at each side of the bed, and the sick animal looked at me +with her mute prayer for help. Her nose was hot, as it is with sick +children and dogs, her face wrinkled like that of an old, old woman, and +her eyes had got quite a human expression. Her breathing was so short, +and we could hear how it rattled in her throat. The diagnosis was not +difficult—she had consumption. Now and again she stretched out her thin +arms as if she implored us to help her, and Don Gaetano thought that she +did so because she wished to be bled.<a name="FNanchor_9_9" id="FNanchor_9_9"></a><a href="#Footnote_9_9" class="fnanchor">[9]</a> I would willingly have given +in in this case, although opposed in principle to this treatment, if I +had thought it possible that any benefit could have been derived from +it; but I knew only too well how unlikely this was, and I tried my best +to make Don Gaetano understand it. Unhappily I did not know myself what +there was to be done. I had at that time a friend amongst the keepers of +the monkey-house in the Jardin des Plantes, and the same night he came +with me to have a look at her; he said that there was nothing to be +done, and that there was no hope. And he was right. For one week more +the fire blazed in Don Gaetano's garret, then it was left to go out, and +it became cold and dark as before in the old man's home.</p> + +<p>True, he got his barrel-organ out from the pawn-shop, and now and then a +copper did fall into his hat also. He did not die of starvation, and +that was about all he asked of life.</p> + +<p>So the spring came and I left Paris; and God knows what has become of +Don Gaetano.</p> + +<p>If you happen to hear a melancholy old barrel-organ in the courtyard, go +to the window and give a penny to the poor errant musician—perhaps it +is Don Gaetano! If you find that his organ disturbs you, try if you like +it better by making him stand a little farther off, but don't send him +away with harshness! He has to hear so many hard words as it is; why +should not we then be a little kind to him—we who love music?</p> + + +<br /><br /><br /><br /> +<h2><a name="POLITICAL_AGITATIONS_IN_CAPRI" id="POLITICAL_AGITATIONS_IN_CAPRI"></a>POLITICAL AGITATIONS IN CAPRI</h2> + + +<p>Don't be alarmed—they are not going to disturb the peace of Europe.</p> + +<p>Alas! there are spots even on the sun, and neither is "the loveliest +pearl in Naples' crown" altogether faultless.</p> + +<p>Croaking ravens swarm around the ruins where thousand-year-old memories +lie slumbering, dirty dwarf hands fumble amidst the remains of fallen +giants' vanished splendour, barbarians pull to pieces the mosaic floors +on which the feet of emperors trod. Night-capped and blue-stockinged +Prose startles the Idyll which lies there dreaming with half-closed +eyes, grinning fauns push aside the vines which hide from view the cool +grotto where the nymph of the legend bathes her graceful limbs.</p> + +<p>Capri is sick, Capri is infested with parasites even as the old lion. +Capri is full of—yes, but in politics one has to be careful; I say +nothing, read the article to the end, and you will see what it is that +Capri is full of.</p> + +<p>Amidst the ruins of Tiberius's Villa you sit on high, gazing out over +the sea. Absently your eye follows a white sail in the distance; it is a +little peaceful fishing-boat quietly sailing home. And your thoughts +wander far, far away. Here, in his marble-shining palace, stood once +upon a time the ruler of the world; he gazed out over the sea, he also, +but his eye was not as fearless as yours, for he dreaded the avenger of +his victims in every approaching boat; and when the bay was dark he +would still linger up there and, trembling, seek to read his doom in the +stars which studded the vault of heaven. No crimes could help him any +longer to forgetfulness of himself; no vice could any more benumb the +torture of his soul; within his rock-built citadel the sombre emperor +suffered torments far greater than any he had ever inflicted on his +victims; his heart had long since bled to death under his purple toga, +but his soul lived on in its titanic sorrow. The spot whereon you lie is +named <i>Il Salto di Tiberio</i>. From here he hurled his victims into the +sea, and there below men were rowing about in boats in order to crush to +death with their oars those who were still struggling with the waves. +Bend over the precipice and see the foaming surge—old fishermen have +told me that sometimes when the moon goes under a cloud and all is dark, +the waves breaking over the rocks beneath seem tinged with blood.</p> + +<p>But the sun streams his forgiveness over the crumbled witness of so much +sin, and, ere long, the vision of the sombre emperor fades from your +thought. Now it is silent and peaceful up at Villa Tiberio. You lie +there on your back gazing out over the gulf, and it seems to you as +though the world ended beyond its lovely shores. The restless strife of +the day does not reach you here, and all dissonance is silenced; your +thoughts fly aimlessly round, play for awhile amongst the surf near +Sorrento's rocks, send their open-armed greeting to Ischia's groves, and +pluck some fragrant roses from the verdant shore of Posilipo. So +perception gradually dies away, no longer do you hear the buzz of the +whirling wheels in the factory of thought—to-day is a day of rest and +your soul may dream. What dream you?—You know not! Where are you?—You +know not! You fly on the white wings of the sea-gulls far, far away over +the wide waters; you sail with the brilliant clouds high overhead where +no thought can reach you.</p> + +<p>But you are only a prisoner after all—a prisoner who dreamt he was free +and is awakened in the midst of his dreams by the rattle of a jailer's +key. The sound of voices strikes your ear, and like a wing-shot bird you +fall to the earth. Beside you stands a lanky individual, and he says to +his companion that it is incredible that a man can be prosaic enough to +fall asleep on a spot so <i>wunderbar</i>. Ah, you are asleep, are you?</p> + +<p>The spell is broken, the harmony destroyed, and you get up to go away. +He then assaults you with the question whether you don't think the gulf +is blue? and you have not walked on ten yards before he attacks you +treacherously from behind with the remark that the sky is also blue. You +believe it helps to stare savagely at him—I have done it many times, +and it does not impress him in the very least. You want to try to make +him believe you are deaf—that is no use either; he takes it as a +compliment, for he prefers to have the conversation all to himself.</p> + +<p>The sun stands high in the heavens and the summer's day is so +warm—come, let us go and bathe in the cool water of the blue grotto. +No, my friend, not there! Even thither, like sharks they come swimming +after us to ask us if we are aware that the blue grotto of Capri is +virtually German, that it was <i>ein Deutscher</i> who discovered the grotto +in 1826. Let us be off for Bagni di Tiberio, the ruins of the emperor's +bath, strip off our clothes inside one of the cool little chambers which +still remain amongst huge blocks of crumbling masonry, and plunge into +the sapphire water. But do you see those huge holes in the fine +sand,—are there elephants in the island? No, my friend, but let us be +off! I know the track, and there she sits, the blonde Gretchen, reading +one of Spielhagen's novels—were it Heine she was reading I might +perhaps forgive her.</p> + +<p>We return along the beach to the Marina and wend our way along the old +path between the vineyards leading up to the village. Unfortunately the +new carriage road is nearly ready, but we, of course, prefer the old +way, by far the more picturesque of the two. On the beach we stumble +over easels and colour-boxes at short distances set out as traps for +dreamers; beside each trap sits an amateur in ambush under a big +umbrella, and he invokes <i>der Teufel</i> to help him, which I suppose he +does.</p> + +<p>You propose putting up at Albergo Pagano—yes, you are right; it is no +doubt the best hotel in the island. Old Pagano, who was a capital +fellow, died many years ago, and only we old Capriotes can remember him. +His son Manfredo, who now manages the hotel, is my very good friend; but +it is not his fault that his house has become as German as though it +lay in the heart of <i>Das grosse Vaterland</i>. At least a good fifty of +them are gathered round the table in the big dining-room. Upon the walls +hangs a plaster medallion of the <i>Kaiser</i> decorated with fresh laurels, +and should they pay you the compliment of mistaking you for a Frenchman, +it is just possible they may drink a bumper to the memory of 1870—an +experience I once went through myself. Instead of the silence and the +peace you so longed for, you are subjected during the whole of +dinner-time to the most terrific uproar worthy of a <i>Kneipe</i> in Bremen. +In despair you fling open the door leading into the garden—no, you are +in Italy after all! Out there under the pergola the moonbeams are +playing amongst the vines, the air is soft and caressing, and the summer +evening recites to you its enchanting sonnet as a compensation for the +prose within. You wander there up and down all alone, but scarcely have +you had time to say to yourself that you are happy before</p> + +<div class="poem2"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"Heil dir im Sieges Kranz!"</span> +</div></div> + +<p>rings like a war-cry through the peaceful night, answered from the +street by some little Capriote ragamuffins with a horrible chorus of</p> + +<div class="poem2"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"Ach! du lieber Augustin!</span> +<span class="i0"> Augustin, Augustin!"</span> +</div></div> + +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> + +<p>Of course I am aware of the supercilious way in which many of the +readers of <i>Letters from a Mourning City</i><a name="FNanchor_10_10" id="FNanchor_10_10"></a><a href="#Footnote_10_10" class="fnanchor">[10]</a> have turned up their noses +at my circle of friends out here—lazzaroni, shabby old monks, +half-starving sailors, etc. The hour is at hand for introducing you to +some acquaintances of mine of somewhat higher rank, and now I will tell +you a story of the upper regions of society. It happened at Capri a good +many years ago, and the <i>dramatis personæ</i> consisted of my friend +D——, myself, and the then Crown Princess of Germany.</p> + +<p>My friend D—— and I happened to be the only profane people in the +hotel just then. The whole of the big dining-table was in the hands of +the Germans, whilst we two sat by ourselves at a small side-table. It +was there we had our little observatory, as Professor Palmieri had his +on Mount Vesuvius. For some days past our keen instruments of perception +had warned us that something unusual was going on at the big table. The +roaring of an evening was louder than ever, the smoke rose in thicker +clouds, the beer ran in streams, and the faces were flushed to +red-heat—everything announced an eruption of patriotism. One evening +there arrived a telegram which, amidst a terrific babel of voices, was +read aloud by one of the party—a commercial traveller from Potsdam, +whom I personally hated because he snored at night; his room was next +to mine and the walls of the hotel were thin. The telegram announced +that the Crown Princess of Germany, who had been spending the last few +days in Naples, was expected to visit Capri the next day in the +strictest incognito. Nobody appeared to understand that the word +"incognito" means that one wishes to be left in peace, and during the +rest of the dinner the faithful patriots did nothing but discuss the +best way of how to spoil the unfortunate Princess's little visit to the +island. A complete programme was drawn up there and then: a triumphal +arch was to be erected, a select deputation was to swoop down upon her +the moment she set foot on land, while the main body was to block her +way up to the piazza. Patriotic songs were to be sung in chorus, a +speech read, whilst the commercial traveller from Potsdam was to express +in a welcoming poem what already his face said eloquently enough—that +poetry was not in his line. Every garden in Capri was to be despoiled of +its roses, whole bushes and trees were to be uprooted wherewith to deck +the triumphal arch, and all night they were to weave garlands and stitch +flags.</p> + +<p>I went up to my room, threw myself on the sofa, and lit a cigarette. And +as I lay there meditating, feelings of the deepest compassion towards +the Crown Princess of Germany began to overwhelm me. I had just read in +the papers how, during her stay in Naples, she had sought by every +manner of means to elude all official recognition, and to avoid every +sort of demonstration in her honour during her excursions round the bay. +Poor Princess! she had flattered herself upon having left all weary +court etiquette behind in foggy Berlin, and yet she was not to be +allowed to enjoy in peace one single summer day on the gulf! To be rich +enough to be able to buy the whole of Capri, and yet be unable to enjoy +the peaceful idyll of the enchanting island for one short hour! To be +destined to wear one of the proudest crowns of the world, and yet to be +powerless to prevent a commercial traveller from writing poetry! My +compassionate reflections were here disturbed by the noise of heavy +footsteps in the adjoining room; it sounded like the tramp of horses' +hoofs; it was the "<i>Probenreiter</i>" who mounted his Pegasus. The whole +night through I lay there reflecting on the vanity of earthly power, and +the whole night did the Poet Laureate wander up and down his room. Once +the tramping ceased, and there was a silence. There was a panting from +within, and I heard a husky voice murmur—</p> + +<div class="poem2"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"Ich stehe hier auf Felsenstrand!</span> +<span class="i0"> Ich stehe hier auf Felsenstrand!"<a name="FNanchor_11_11" id="FNanchor_11_11"></a><a href="#Footnote_11_11" class="fnanchor">[11]</a></span> +</div></div> + + +<p>A moment afterwards I heard him fling open his window and let the night +air cool the fire of his inspiration. Our rooms opened on to the same +balcony, and carefully lifting up my blind I could see the moonlight +falling full upon him as he leaned against the window-frame. His hair +stood on end and an inarticulate mumble fell from his lips. He gazed in +despair up to the heavens where the stars were twinkling knowingly at +one another; he glanced out over the garden where the night wind flew +tittering amongst the leaves. But he never saw the joke until a startled +young cock inquired of some old cocks down in the poultry yard what time +it was, and then crowed straight into his face that the night was passed +and he had got no further than the first verse. Then he murmured once +more a plaintive—</p> + +<div class="poem2"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"Ich stehe hier auf Felsenstrand!"</span> +</div></div> + +<p>and banged his windows to. All the cocks of Pagano's crowed "Bravo! +Bravo!" but Phoebus, Phoebus Apollo, the God of the Sun and of the +poets, entered his room at that moment, and he reddened with anger when +he caught sight of the commercial traveller tampering with his lyre.</p> + +<p>Later on, when the chambermaid appeared, I heard him call out for coffee +and cognac—having spent the whole night like that on his +<i>Felsenstrand</i>, no wonder he needed a pick-me-up. He was late for +luncheon. I glanced at the poet; an interesting pallor lent a faint look +of distinction to the commercial traveller's plump features, and his +great goggle eyes lay like extinct suns under his heavy eyelids. He +received great attention from everybody, especially from the fair sex. I +heard him confide to his neighbour at table that he always succeeded +best with improvisations, and that he did not intend to let the reins of +his inspiration loose until the last moment. They drank to his charming +talent, whereupon he modestly smiled. He ate nothing, but drank +considerably. At dessert he had regained his high colour, harangued +every one excitedly, and drank toasts right and left. But it seemed as +if he dared not be alone with his thoughts; as soon as the conversation +around him ceased, he sank into profound meditation, and an attentive +observer could easily detect that the roses of his cheeks were hiding +cruel thorns which pierced his soul. For it was twelve o'clock; the +Princess was expected at four, and he still stood there like Napoleon on +St. Helena, alone and abandoned on his <i>Felsenstrand</i>, vainly gazing out +over the unfathomable ocean of poetry in search of one single little +friendly rhyme to row him over to the next verse.</p> + +<p>The hotel had become quite unbearable downstairs; rehearsals of +patriotic songs were going on in the salon, whilst in the hall went on a +busy manufacture of garlands, to which the victim's name and long +fluttering ribbons were being attached. The piazza was gaily decorated; +the triumphal arch was ready—a black cardboard eagle perched on the top +holding a white placard in his beak, upon which stood out in huge red +letters the word <i>Willkommen</i>. Flag-staffs and garlands all over the +piazza; even Nicolino, barber and <i>salassatore</i> (bleeder), had decided +to join the triple alliance, and a colossal German flag was waving +before his <i>salone</i>. I did not know what to do with myself, and at last +I strolled up towards Villa di Tiberio—up there, there might be a +chance of a little peace at all events. I had scarcely had time to lie +down in my favourite place far out on the edge of the cliff, viewing the +Bay of Naples on one side and the Bay of Salerno and the wide sea on the +other, before a long shadow fell across me. I looked up, and saw a +patriot staring fixedly through a telescope towards Naples. As a matter +of fact, something was visible in the midst of the bay, but the haze +made it difficult to see what it was. Suddenly he gave a sort of +war-whoop, whereupon two other spies, who must have been sitting at the +top of the old watch-tower, came bursting on the scene. I knew quite +well what it was that had appeared in sight—it was the big +"Scoppa-boat" sailing home from Naples.<a name="FNanchor_12_12" id="FNanchor_12_12"></a><a href="#Footnote_12_12" class="fnanchor">[12]</a> Of course I said nothing, as +there was always a faint hope that they might mistake it for the +expected steamer, and take themselves off. But unfortunately they also +guessed rightly, and all three sat down on the grass beside me, and +began munching sandwiches and abusing Tiberius. I took myself off, and +returned to Capri. On the piazza I came across my friend D——, who did +not seem to be in a very good temper either; he was on his way to the +Marina, and I accompanied him thither. Down at the Marina everything was +peaceful and quiet, for the time being at all events. Old men sat there +in the open boathouses mending their nets, and small boys, who had not +seen fit to put on more clothes than usual for the Princess's expected +visit, played about in the surf, and rolled their little bronze bodies +in the sand. The landing-place was crowded as usual when the Naples +steamer is expected; girls stood there offering corals, flowers, and +fruit for sale, and in the rear stood patient little donkeys, ready +saddled for carrying the expected visitors on a trip up to the village. +We were just about to blot the whole of Germany from our minds, when my +friend Alessio, shading his eyes with his hand, suddenly observed that +the steamer which had just come in sight was not the usual passenger +steamer from Naples, but a larger and more rapid boat. I looked at my +watch, it was barely three o'clock; I had hoped for at least another +hour's respite. Alessio was right; it was not the usual boat that hove +in sight. And now the Marina began to wake up, and people came pouring +in from all sides. We saw the deputation rush down the hill at full +speed, with the chorus at its heels, and last of all came the court +poet, who surely disapproved as much as we did at the Princess's +anticipating her visit by a whole hour. The steamer was certainly going +with a greater speed than the usual boat, and she also seemed to draw +more water, as she backed farther out than usual from the harbour. The +solemn moment was at hand; the deputation stood on the landing-stage in +battle array, headed by the commercial traveller. We saw several people +descend the ladder and step into a little boat, which rapidly made for +the shore.</p> + +<div class="poem2"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"Heil dir im Sieges Kranz!"</span> +</div></div> + + +<p>was now performed, and hardly had they got through the first verse when +the boat pulled up alongside the little quay, and two ladies and a +gentleman in uniform prepared to land. If they thought this would prove +so easy a matter, they were mistaken—they were stopped short by the +commercial traveller from Potsdam, who solemnly and warningly stretched +out his right hand towards them, while with his left he drew a paper out +of his trousers pocket. My old compassion for the Crown Princess rose +anew, but what could I do for her? All hope of escape was at an +end. . . .</p> + +<div class="poem2"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"Ich stehe hier auf Felsenstrand"—</span> +</div></div> + +<p>—but here there was a sudden silence. One of the ladies laughingly bent +forward to say a few words to the gentleman in uniform, who quietly +informed the deputation that these two ladies of the Princess's suite +were anxious to make an excursion up to the village, while the Princess +herself, who had remained on board, would sail round the island. At +that very moment we saw the steamer turn round and make for the western +side of the island.</p> + +<p>Utterly dumbfounded, the deputation held a council of war as to the best +course to be pursued. It was evident that the steamer had gone to make +"<i>il giro</i>" (<i>i.e.</i> the usual round of the island), to return finally to +the Grande Marina, the only real landing-place which Capri possesses. +True that a sort of harbour exists also on the south side at the Piccola +Marina, but it has fallen into disuse, and the road hence into the +village is very rough. They therefore decided to await the steamer's +return where they were; more than an hour it would scarcely take. The +deputation sank dejectedly down upon some upturned boats, but the poet +remained standing for fear of creasing his dress-coat (fancy wearing a +dress-coat and top-hat in Capri!) And he ran no chance of freezing, I +can tell you, as he stood there in his sun-bath. The hour dragged +wearily along, but still no sign of the steamer. They had waited for +nearly two hours, when a fisherman phlegmatically observed that as far +as he could make out the steamer had gone to the Piccola Marina, for he +had rowed past just as the jolly-boat set out from the steamer, and some +one on the captain's bridge had asked him how many feet of water they +might count upon at the Piccola Marina. Up flew the deputation as if +stung by an asp, and disappeared in a cloud of dust on to the Capri +road.</p> + +<p>We dawdled about the Marina for some time longer, but finally we also +wandered up to Capri, not by the broad carriage-road, but climbing the +old path which joins the Anacapri road at some distance from the +village, thus avoiding the piazza altogether.</p> + +<p>It was as warm as a summer's day, and we lay down by the roadside to +rest in the high grass. We talked politics by way of exception. My +friend D—— is an Alsatian; he had been through the Franco-German war, +and was anything but tender towards the Germans, and neither was I, for +reasons of my own. But we were generous enemies, and we agreed that we +were very sorry for the Crown Princess, however German she might be.</p> + +<p>And thus I came to speak of my nocturnal adventure with the commercial +traveller, and no one being within earshot it is just possible that we +cracked a joke or two at the poet's expense. I remember that we tried to +steer him safely through his poem, and lay there roaring with laughter, +composing some extra verses to his unfinished inspiration. My old dog +lay beside me in the grass; he did his best to follow us in our poetical +flights, but the heat had made him somewhat indifferent to literary +pursuits, and he never succeeded in keeping more than one eye open at a +time. From out the ivy covering the old stone wall behind us a little +quick-tailed lizard peeped every now and then to warm itself in the sun. +Whenever you catch sight of one of these little lizards you should +whistle softly; the graceful little animal will then stand still, gazing +wonderingly around with her bright eyes to see from whence the sound +proceeds. She is so frightened that you can see her heart beat in her +brilliant green breast, but she is so curious and so fond of music—and +there is so little music to be heard inside the old stone wall! You have +only to keep quite quiet to see her emerge from her hiding-place and +settle down to listen attentively. Something rather melancholy is what +pleases her best; she likes Verdi, and I often start with Traviata when +I give concerts for lizards. I am so fond of music myself, and maybe +that is the reason why I try to be kind to these small music-lovers. +That any one can have the heart to take the pretty, graceful little +lizards captive is more than I can understand; they belong to an old +Italian wall as much as the ivy and the sunshine. But in Albergo Pagano +is a German who does nothing but go about hunting lizards; he shuts them +up in a cigar-box, which he opens every now and then to gaze like +another Gulliver upon his Lilliputian captives. We are deadly enemies, +he and I, for once I opened his cigar-box and set all his lizards free.</p> + +<p>Suddenly Puck gave a growl. We looked up, and to our great astonishment +we saw two ladies standing in front of us, and behind them stood a +gentleman in black, staring fixedly into space. We had not heard them +come up, so that they must have been standing there while D—— and I +were busy finishing off the commercial traveller's poem. We looked at +each other in consternation, but there was evidently nothing to fear; it +was not difficult to see that they were English, and not likely to have +understood one word of what we had been talking about. One of the ladies +was middle-aged, rather stout, and wore a gray travelling-dress, while +the other was a very smart young lady, whom we thought very good-looking +indeed. They stood there gazing out over the Marina, and on looking in +the same direction we saw that the Princess's steamer had returned from +its <i>giro</i> round the island, and had anchored beside the Naples boat. +Our discomfiture was complete upon the younger of the ladies turning +round to ask us in perfect French how long it would take them to get to +the village. D——, who was lying nearest them, answered it would hardly +take ten minutes.</p> + +<p>"Is it necessary to go through the village in order to reach the beach?" +said she, pointing towards the Marina.</p> + +<p>"Yes," answered D——, "it is necessary to do so."</p> + +<p>Here Puck stretched himself and stared yawningly at them.</p> + +<p>"What a beautiful dog!" I heard the elder lady say to her companion in +English. I at once discovered her to be a lady of great distinction and +exceptional taste, and I immediately felt a desire to show her some +politeness. I could not hit upon anything better to tell her than that +she had chosen an unfortunate day for coming to Capri, the island having +fallen a prey to the barbarians for the whole day. I told her that the +Crown Princess of Germany was actually on the island, and that, pursued +by a deputation and a commercial traveller, she had just now been caught +on the Piccola Marina and carried off to the Piazza. I added that all +our sympathies followed the Princess. I noticed a rather peculiar +expression on the younger lady's face as I delivered myself of these +remarks, but the elder listened to all I said with a scarcely +perceptible smile over her eyes.</p> + +<p>"We are anxious to reach the harbour as soon as possible," said she; "we +have been absent longer than we intended."</p> + +<p>"There is a short cut down to the Marina," answered I, politely; "we +have just come up that way ourselves. But I am afraid it is rather too +rough a road for you, madam."</p> + +<p>"Will it lead us straight down there?" said she, pointing to the harbour +where both steamers lay at anchor.</p> + +<p>"Oh dear, yes!"</p> + +<p>"And without obliging us to enter the village?"</p> + +<p>"Without obliging you to enter the village," answered I.</p> + +<p>She exchanged a few words with the younger lady, and then said in a +decided, abrupt sort of way, "Be kind enough to show us the way."</p> + +<p>Yes, that was easy enough, and I led them down to the Marina. +Conversation rather languished on the way. I had come across two +singularly reticent ladies, and had it not been for my repeated efforts +it would have died altogether. Every now and then the younger lady +smiled to herself, which made me fear I had said something stupid. I +have never been much of a society man, and it is not so easy a matter to +entertain two entirely strange ladies.</p> + +<p>Upon reaching the wider part of the road I pointed towards the Marina at +their feet, and told them that they could not possibly go wrong now. We +saw one or two officers walking up and down the landing-stage, whereupon +I told the ladies that, were they desirous of seeing the Crown Princess, +they had only to wait there a moment or two; she was bound to arrive +soon with her tormentors at her heels. But this, they said, they did not +care about, and then they kindly wished me good-bye.</p> + +<p>Hardly had I begun to retrace my steps when two lackeys in the royal +livery of the house of Savoy came running down the road; I had barely +time to move to one side before they were yards beyond me. They were +immediately followed by a long, gaunt individual with very thin legs and +a very big moustache—<i>ma foi!</i> if not a German officer, remarkably like +one at all events. He in his turn was succeeded by a fat, fussy little +person, who literally threw himself into my arms; he held his gold-laced +hat in one hand, while with the other he wiped the perspiration from his +forehead; he stammered an apology, and then rolled off again like a ball +down the hill. Most extraordinary, thought I to myself, the number of +people on this footpath to-day, considering that as a rule one never +meets a soul here!</p> + +<p>D—— still lay on the Anacapri road waiting for me; neither of us cared +to return to Capri just then, and we finally made up our minds to walk +up to Anacapri and greet la bella Margherita, and wait there till the +island should be restored to calm. We sat for a while under the pergola +and drank a glass of vino bianco, and then we slowly sauntered down to +Capri along the beautiful road, the whole of the myrtle-covered mountain +slope at our feet. When passing beneath Barbarossa's ruined castle we +glanced towards the Marina and saw to our relief that both steamers had +taken their departure. Genuine Capriotes always witness the departure of +the steamer with a certain satisfaction; they like to keep their beloved +Capri to themselves, and the crowd of noisy strangers only disturbs the +harmony of the dreamy little island.</p> + +<p>It was very nearly dark by the time we reached the village. The piazza +was quite deserted; from the shop-window of Nicolino, barber and +bleeder, hung the tricoloured flag waving sadly in the wind, whilst +perched upon the triumphal arch the cardboard eagle sat aloft gnawing +gloomily at his <i>Willkommen</i>.</p> + +<p>Upon reaching the hotel we found that every one was seated at table, but +an unusual silence prevailed. We withdrew to our little table and tried +to look as innocent as possible. At dessert there arose a frightful +dispute at the big table as to whose was the fault of a certain calamity +which apparently had happened to them during the day. I thought I heard +a murmur going round about an idiot who had been seen accompanying two +ladies down a short cut to the Marina, but I never got to know who he +was. Ah well! neither D—— nor I care to tell you more about this +story. If we behaved badly I have already been sufficiently punished. +Here I sit far from my beloved island in fog and gloom, whilst the +commercial traveller, for aught I know, is perhaps still enjoying +himself at Capri, and still entertaining the cocks of Pagano with—</p> + +<div class="poem2"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"Ich stehe hier auf Felsenstrand!"</span> +</div></div> + + +<br /><br /><br /><br /> +<h2><a name="MENAGERIE" id="MENAGERIE"></a>MENAGERIE</h2> + +<div class="bbox"><center><br /> +<i>For a few days only!!!</i><br /> +<hr style='width: 25%;' /> +BRUTUS, Lion from Nubia.<br /> +<br /> +<span class="smcap">Tigers</span>, <span class="smcap">Bears</span>, <span class="smcap">Wolves</span>.<br /> +<br /> +POLAR BEAR.<br /> +<br /> +<span class="smcap">Monkeys</span>, <span class="smcap">Hyænas</span>, and other remarkable<br /> +Animals.<br /> +<br /> +The Lion-Tamer, called "<span class="smcap">The Lion King</span>,"<br /> +will enter the Lion's Cage at 6 o'clock.<br /> +<hr style='width: 25%;' /> +<i>For a few days only!!!</i><br /><br /> +</center></div> + +<p>The street boys hold out for a while longer, cold though the evening be, +for the Lion King himself has already twice appeared on the platform in +riding-boots, and his breast sparkling with decorations, and, besides +that, one can distinctly hear the howling of the animals within the +tent.</p> + +<p>Yes, it would be a pity to miss an entertainment like this; come, let us +go in!</p> + +<p>It is the Lion King's wife herself who is sitting there selling the +tickets, and we gaze at her with a deference due to her rank. She wears +gold bracelets round her thick wrists, and a double gold chain glitters +beneath her fur cape. But the monkeys who sit there on each side of her +chained to their perches with leather straps girt tightly round their +stomachs—they wear no fur capes. Their faces are blue with cold, and +when they jump up and down to try to keep themselves warm the street +boys laugh and the market people stop to have a look at them—poor +unconscious clowns of the menagerie who are there for the purpose of +luring in spectators to witness the tortures of their other companions +in distress.</p> + +<p>The tent is full of people, and the many gas-lights inflame the infected +air. The show has already begun, and the spectators follow from cage to +cage a negro, who, pointing his stick at the prisoner behind the bars, +in monotonous voice announces his age, his country, and his crime of +having led the life which Nature has taught him to live.</p> + +<p>I have been here several times, and I know the negro's description by +heart. I will show you the animals.</p> + +<p>Here, in this cage, moping on his perch, his head hidden beneath his +ragged feather-cloak, you see the proudest representative of the bird +world—<i>The Royal Eagle, three years old, taken young</i>. You have read +about him, the strong-winged bird, who in solemn majesty circles above +the desolate mountain-tops. Alone he lives up there amongst the +clouds—alone like the human soul. He builds his nest upon an +inaccessible rock, and the precipice shields his young from rapacious +hands. <i>Taken young</i>; that means that the nest was plundered, the +mother was shot as she flew shrieking to protect her child, and by the +butt-end of the gun was broken the wing-bone of the half-grown eagle as +he struggled for his freedom. Here he has sat ever since; he sleeps +during the day, but he is awake the live-long night, and when all is +silent in the tent a strange, uncanny moan may be heard from his cage. +<i>Three years old!</i> He is not the most to be pitied here, for he is not +likely to last long—the Royal Eagle dies when caged.</p> + +<p>Here you see a <i>Bear</i>. His cage is so small that he cannot walk up and +down; he sits there almost upright on his hindquarters, rocking his meek +and heavy head from side to side. If you offer him a piece of bread, he +flattens his nose against the bars and gently and carefully takes the +gift out of your hand. His nose is torn by the iron ring he once was +made to wear, and his eyes are bloodshot and streaming from the strong +gaslight; but their expression is not bad, it is kind and intelligent +like that of an old dog. Now and then he grips the bars with his mighty +paws, helplessly shaking the cage until the guinea-pigs who live below +him rush up and down in abject terror. Ay, shake your cage, old Bruin! +the bars are steel, stronger than your paws; you will never come +out—you are to die in your prison. You are a dangerous beast of +prey—you live on bilberries and fruit, and now and then you help +yourself to a sheep to keep yourself from dying of starvation. God +Almighty did not know better than to teach you to do so, but no doubt it +was very ill-judged of Him, and you are very much to blame; it is only +man who has the right to eat his fill.</p> + +<p>Here you see a <i>Hyæna</i>. The negro stirs up the hyæna with a cut of his +whip, and timorously the animal crouches in the farthermost corner of +the cage, whilst the negro tells the spectators that the hyæna is known +for its cowardice. The hyæna dare not risk an open fight, but +treacherously attacks the defenceless prisoner whom the savages have +left bound hand and foot to his fate in the wilderness, or the exhausted +beast of burden whom the caravan has abandoned in the desert after +having hoisted on to another the load he is no longer able to bear. The +negro pokes cautiously with his pointed stick into the corner where the +cowardly animal tries to hide itself, and the spectators all agree that +the hyæna, with its crouching back and restless eyes, conveys a faithful +picture of treachery and cowardice. None of the spectators have ever +seen a hyæna before, but they have seen crouching backs and restless +eyes. Not even the dead does the hyæna leave in peace, says the negro, +and with disgust man turns away from the guilty animal.</p> + +<p>Here you see a <i>Polar Bear</i>. Its name is advertised in huge letters on +the placard outside; and he deserves the distinction well indeed, for +his torture perhaps surpasses that of all the other animals. The Polar +bear is another dangerous beast of prey; he does a little fishing for +himself up in the north where man is busy exterminating the whales. The +horrible sufferings of the animal need no comment—let us go on.</p> + +<p>A little <i>South African Monkey</i> and a rabbit live next to the cage +inhabited by the panting Polar bear.<a name="FNanchor_13_13" id="FNanchor_13_13"></a><a href="#Footnote_13_13" class="fnanchor">[13]</a></p> + +<p>The little monkey is sick to death of the eternal clambering up and down +the bars of the cage, and the swing which dangles over her head does not +amuse her any more. Sadly she sits there upon her straw-covered prison +floor, in one hand she holds a half-withered carrot, which she turns +over once again to see if it looks equally unappetising on every side, +while with the other she sorrowfully scratches the rabbit's back. Now +and then she gets interested, drops the carrot, and attentively with +both hands explores some suspicious-looking spot on her companion's +mangy back and pulls out a few hairs, which she carefully examines. But +soon she wearies of the rabbit also, and does not know in the least what +to do with herself. She looks round in the straw, but there is nothing +to be seen but the carrot; she looks round the bare, slippery walls of +her cage, but neither there is there anything of the slightest interest +to be found. And at last she has nothing else to do but, for the +hundredth time that hour, to jump into the swing, only to leap on to the +floor the next minute and seat herself again, leaning against the +rabbit. The spectators call this jumping for joy, but the poor little +monkey knows how jolly it is.</p> + +<p>The rabbit is resigned. The captivity of generations has stupefied +him—the longing for liberty has died ages ago from out of his +degenerated hare-brain. He hopes for nothing, but he desires nothing. He +has no social talents; he is in no way qualified to entertain his +restless friend; and besides that, he fails to grasp the situation. But +he rewards the monkey to the best of his abilities for the little +offices of friendship which she performs for him; and when the gas has +been turned out, and the cold night air enters the tent, then the +Northerner lends his warm fur coat to the trembling little Southerner, +and nestling close to one another they await the new day.</p> + +<p>The inhabitant of the cage in yonder corner has not been advertised at +all upon the placard outside. He is not to be seen just now; perhaps he +is asleep for a while in his dark, little bedroom; but every one who +catches sight of that wire wheel knows that it is a <i>Squirrel</i> who lives +here. What he has to do in a menagerie is more than I can say, for on +that point the zoological education of the public should surely be +completed—we all know what the squirrel looks like. Superstitious +people of my country say that it is an evil omen if a squirrel crosses +their path. I don't know where they got hold of that idea, but maybe +they have taken it from a squirrel—for the squirrel believes exactly in +the same way if a man crosses his path, and, alas! he has got reason +enough for his belief. I, on the contrary, have always thought it a +piece of good luck whenever I have happened to come across a little +squirrel. Often enough while roaming through the woods and halting with +grateful joy at every other step before some new wonder in the fairyland +of nature—often enough have I caught a glimpse of the graceful, nimble, +little fellow swinging himself high overhead on some leafy branch, or +carefully peeping out from his little twig cottage, watching with his +bright eyes whether any schoolboys were lurking beneath his tree. "Come +along, little man," I then would say in squirrel language; "true enough, +I did not turn out the man I had been expected to become when at school; +but, thank God! I have at least arrived so far in knowledge that I have +learned to feel tender sympathy for you and yours!" We were, alas! not +taught this at school in my days; we exchanged birds' eggs for old +stamps; we shot small birds with guns as big as ourselves—and now let +him who can come and deny the doctrine of original sin! We were cruel to +animals, like all savages. To the best of my abilities do I now +endeavour to expiate the wrong I was then guilty of. But an evil action +never dies; and I know of bloodstains on tiny boys' fingers which have +rusted to stains of shame in the childhood recollections of the man. To +my humiliation I have shot many a little bird, and many another did I +keep imprisoned. Regretfully do I also own to having killed a squirrel; +treacherously did I plunder his home, and his little one did I imprison +in just such another cage as the one we now stand in front of. See! +there comes the little squirrel out from his bedroom and begins to run +round and round in his wire wheel. He has made the same attempt +thousands and thousands of times, and yet he makes it once again. Yes, +it looks very pretty! when I used to watch my squirrel running round and +round in his wire wheel in precisely the same way, and at last the wheel +was turning so rapidly that I could not distinguish the bars, I thought +it was capital fun. I know now why he runs; he runs in anxious longing +for freedom; he runs as long as he has strength to run; for neither is +<i>he</i> able to distinguish any more the bars of the turning wheel. He may +run a mile and still he is hedged in by the same prison bars. The simple +invention is almost diabolically cunning; it is the wheel of Ixion in +the Tartarus of pain to which mankind has banished animals.</p> + +<p>Here you see a <i>Wolf from Siberia</i>. The wolf is also, as is well known, +a dangerous, wild beast. When the cold is extreme, and the snow lies +very deep, the wolves approach the habitation of man, and in starving +crowds they follow any sledge they meet—they have even been known in +very rare cases to attack the horses. We have all read that terrible +story of the Russian peasant on his way home across the deserted +snow-fields; he heard the panting of the wolves behind his sledge, and +he could see their eyes glitter through the darkness of the night, and +in order to save his own life he had to throw one of his children to +the wolves.</p> + +<p>The negro informs you that the wild beast in this cage was caught young; +the she-wolf as usual was killed while attempting to save her cub.</p> + +<p>The bottom of the cage is shining like a parquet floor from the +continual tramping up and down of the prisoner within, for he knows no +rest. Night and day he paces to and fro, his head bent low as though in +search of some outlet of escape; he will never find it; he will die +behind those bars even as the prisoners in his own country die in their +irons.</p> + +<p>The big <i>Parrot</i> on her perch over there sheds the one ray of light on +this dark picture. The parrot I need not describe to you, for you know +the species well. This one hails, we are told, from the New World, but +one comes across a good many parrots in the Old World also. The parrot +is a universal favourite and is to be found in nearly every house. The +parrot is not unhappy; she is unconscious of the chain round her leg, +she does not realise that she was born with wings. She is undisturbed by +any unnecessary brain activity; she eats, she sleeps, trims her gorgeous +feather cloak, and chatters ceaselessly from morning till night. Left to +herself she is silent, for she is only able to repeat what others have +said before her, and this she does so cleverly that often, on hearing +some one chatter, I have to ask myself whether it be a human being or a +parrot. . . .</p> + +<p>The ragged, attenuated animal standing over there and gazing at us with +her soft, sad eyes is a <i>Chamois from Switzerland</i>. The chamois is a +rarity in a menagerie, for, as is well known, it usually frets to death +during the first year of its captivity. I look at the poor animal with a +feeling of oppression at my heart which you can scarcely realise—I have +breathed the free air of the high mountains myself, and I know why the +chamois dies in prison. Those were other times, poor captive chamois, +when you were roving on the Alpine meadows amidst rhododendrons and +myrtillus; when on high, over a precipice, I saw your beautiful +silhouette standing out against the clear, bright sky! You had no need +of an alpenstock, you, to climb up there, where I watched the aerial +play of your graceful limbs amongst the rocks. Up to the realm of ice +you led the way, high on the slopes of Monte Rosa has my clumsy, human +foot trodden the snow in the track of your dainty mountain shoes. Ay, +those were other times, poor prisoner!—those were other times both for +you and me, and we had better say no more about them.</p> + +<p>Yonder stalwart, muscular ape is a <i>Baboon</i>; <i>aged, Abyssinian male</i>, +stands written under his cage. He sits there, wrapped in thought, +fingering a straw. Now and then he casts a rapid glance around him, and +be sure he is not so absent-minded as he looks. The eye is intelligent +but malevolent; its owner is a candidate for humanity.</p> + +<p>When the negro approaches his cage he shows him a row of teeth not very +unlike the negro's own—the family likeness between the two faces is, +for the matter of that, unmistakable. The negro cautions the public +against accepting the wrinkled hand which the old baboon extends between +the bars. I always treat him to an extra lump of sugar ever since the +negro told me he once bit off the thumb of an old woman who poked her +umbrella at him. Besides, I look at him with veneration, for he comes +from an illustrious family. Who knows whether he is not an ill-starred +descendant of that heroic old baboon whom Brehm once met in +Abyssinia?—The negro is sure to know nothing of that story, so I may as +well tell it you. One day, while travelling in Abyssinia, the great +German naturalist fell in with a whole troop of baboons, who, bound for +some high rocks, were marching along a narrow defile. The rear had not +yet emerged from the defile when the dogs of Brehm and his companions +rushed forward and barred their passage. Seeing the danger the other +baboons, who had already reached the rocks, then descended in a body to +the rescue of the attacked, and they screamed so terribly that the dogs +actually fell back; the whole troop of baboons was now filing off in +perfect order when the dogs were again set at them. All the apes, +however, reached the rocks in safety, with the exception of one +half-year-old baboon who happened to have been lagging behind; he was +surrounded on all sides by the open-mouthed dogs, and with loud cries of +distress he jumped on to a big boulder. At this juncture a huge baboon +stepped down from the rocks for the second time, advanced alone to the +stone where the little one was crouching, patted him on the back, lifted +him gently down, and so led him off triumphantly before the very noses +of the dogs, who were so taken by surprise that it never even occurred +to them to attack him. One need not have read Darwin to pronounce that +baboon a hero.</p> + +<p>I have noticed that even kind-hearted spectators do not seem to feel +very much commiseration for captive monkeys. The ape is playing in the +menagerie the same rôle as Don Quixote in literature—the superficial +observer looks upon them as exclusively comical, and only laughs at +them. But the attentive looker-on knows that the solitary monkey's life +behind the bars is in its way nothing but a tragedy, as well as +Cervantes' immortal book is nothing but a mournful epic. With tender +emotion he feels how an increasing sympathy mingles in his pitiful smile +the more he gets to know of them, these two superannuated types: Don +Quixote, the simple-minded, would-be hero, still lagging on the scene +long after the <i>epopée</i> of chivalry has departed in the twilight of +mediæval mysticism; and the ape, the phantom from the vanishing animal +world, over whose hairy human face already falls the dawn of the +birthday of the first man.</p> + +<p>This baboon may perhaps appear to you very ugly, but we know that the +perception of physical beauty is an entirely individual one, and it is +quite possible that the baboon on his side finds us very ugly. You +cannot help smiling now and then when standing and watching him, but, at +least, try not to let him see it, for, like all monkeys, it saddens and +irritates him to be laughed at to his face. This old baboon is deeply +unhappy, for, as he has got more brains than the other animals in the +menagerie, his capacity for suffering is consequently greater—for we +all know that suffering is an intellectual function. He alone realises +the hopelessness of his situation, and his restless brain-activity +refuses him the relative oblivion which resignation vouchsafes to many +others of his companions in distress.</p> + +<p>But as a compensation he possesses one quality which the other animals +lack, and it is the possession of this quality which saves him from +falling into hypochondria;—it is his sense of humour. That the monkey +is a born humorist every one knows who has had the opportunity of +observing him in society—for instance, in the monkey-house at the Zoo. +This sense of humour does not even desert the poor monkey kept in +solitary confinement. And sometimes when I have been standing here for a +while watching the mimicry of this old baboon I have involuntarily had +to ask myself whether he were not making fun of me. . . .</p> + +<p>The negro has finished his recital, and it is time for the show-piece of +the evening to come off. The spectators crowd in front of the +lion-cage, dividing their admiration between Brutus, the Nubian lion, +behind the bars and the keeper who, unarmed, is about to enter the cage. +The man throws off his overcoat and the "Lion King" stands before us in +all his pride, pink tights, riding-boots, and his gold-laced breast +covered with decorations—from Nubia likewise even these. He is small of +stature like Napoleon, and the constant intercourse with the wild beasts +has given his face a rough and repulsive expression. He reeks of brandy, +to counteract the stale smell of the cage, and his pomatumed hair curls +neatly round his low-sloping forehead. The negro hands him a whip, and +the solemn moment is at hand. Proudly the Lion King creeps into the +cage, and proudly he cracks his whip at the half-sleeping Brutus. The +lion raises himself with a sullen roar, and, hugging the walls, begins +to wander round his cage. Proudly the Lion King stretches out his whip, +and obediently like a dog Brutus leaps lazily over it. Proudly the +negro hands his master a hoop, and wearily and dejectedly Brutus jumps +through it. Brutus is sulky to-night; he does not roar as he ought to +do. Things look up, however, towards the end of the performance, when +the Lion King, standing in a corner of the cage, paralyses Brutus with a +proud look just as he is about to attack him. Brutus is no longer +obstinate, but roars irreproachably, and shows his yellow fang. A few +half-smothered cries of alarm are heard from the audience, an old woman +faints, a pistol is fired off while the Lion King, under cover of the +smoke, hurriedly and proudly creeps out of the cage.</p> + +<p>Captive lion, have you then forgotten that once you were a king +yourself, that once there was a time when all men trembled at your +approach, that the forest grew silent when your imperious voice +resounded? Fallen monarch, awake from the degradation of your thraldom; +rise giant-like and let the thunder of your royal voice be heard once +more!</p> + +<p>Brutus, Brutus, vindicator of lost freedom, you are too proud to be a +slave! Rend asunder the chains which coward human cunning has bound +around the sleeping power of your limbs!</p> + +<p>Shake your flaming lion mane, and, strong as Samson, in your mighty +wrath bring down the prison walls around you to crush the Philistines +assembled here to jeer at the impotence of their once dreaded enemy!</p> + +<p>Brutus, Brutus, vindicator of lost freedom!</p> + + +<br /><br /><br /><br /> +<h2><a name="ITALY_IN_PARIS" id="ITALY_IN_PARIS"></a>ITALY IN PARIS</h2> + + +<p>At one time I had many patients in the Roussel Yard. Ten or twelve +families lived there, but none were so badly off, I believe, as the +Salvatore family. At Salvatore's it was so dark that they were obliged +to burn a little oil-lamp the whole day, and there was no fireplace +except a brazier which stood in the middle of the floor. Damp as a +cellar it was at all times; but when it rained the water penetrated into +the room, which lay a couple of feet lower than the street.</p> + +<p>And nevertheless one could see in everything a kind of pathetic struggle +against the gloomy impression which the dwelling itself made. Old +illustrated papers were pasted up round the walls, the bed was neat and +clean, and behind an old curtain in one corner, the family's little +wardrobe was hung up in the neatest order. Salvatore himself, with +skilful hand, had made the little girl's bed out of an old box, and in +the day one could sit upon it as if it were a sofa. The corner shelf +where the Madonna stood was adorned with bright-coloured paper flowers, +and there, too, the small treasures of the family lay spread out,—the +gilt brooch which Salvatore had presented to his wife when they were +married; the string of corals which her brother had brought from the +coral fishery in "Barbaria" (Algeria); the two gorgeous cups out of +which coffee was drunk on solemn occasions; and there, too, stood the +wonderful porcelain dog which Concetta had once received as a present +from a grand lady, and which was only taken down on Sundays to be +admired more closely.</p> + +<p>I did not understand how the mother managed it; but the little girls +were always neat and tidy in their outgrown clothes, and their faces +shone, so washed and polished were they. The eldest child, Concetta, had +been at the free school for more than half a year; and it was the +mother's pride to make her read aloud to me out of her book. She herself +had never learned to read, and although I allowed myself to be told that +Salvatore read very well, neither he nor I had ever ventured to try his +capabilities. Now, since Petruccio could hardly ever get out of bed, +Concetta had been obliged to give up going to school, so that she might +stay at home with her sick brother whilst <i>la mamma</i> was at her work +away in the eating-house. This place could not be given up, as not only +did she get ten sous a day for washing dishes, but sometimes she could +bring home scraps under her apron, which no one else could turn to +account, but out of which she managed to make a capital soup for +Petruccio.</p> + +<p>Salvatore himself worked the whole day away in La Villette. He was +obliged to be at the stone-mason's yard at six o'clock every morning, +and it was much too far to go home during the mid-day rest. Sometimes it +happened that I was there when he came home in the evening after his +day's work, and then he looked very proudly at me when Petruccio +stretched out his arms towards him. He took his little son up so +carefully with his big horny hands, lifted him on his broad shoulders, +and tenderly leaned his sunburnt cheek against the sick little one's +waxen face. Petruccio sat quite quiet and silent on his father's arm; +sometimes he laid hold of his father's matted beard with his thin +fingers, and then Salvatore looked very happy. "<i>Vedete, Signor +dottore</i>," he then would say, "<i>n'è vero che sta meglio sta sera?</i>"<a name="FNanchor_14_14" id="FNanchor_14_14"></a><a href="#Footnote_14_14" class="fnanchor">[14]</a> +He received his week's wages every Saturday, and then he always came +home triumphantly with a little toy for his son, and both father and +mother knelt down beside the bed to see how Petruccio liked it. +Petruccio, alas! liked scarcely anything. He took the toy in his hand, +but that was all. Petruccio's face was old and withered, and his solemn, +weary eyes were not the eyes of a child. I had never known him cry or +complain, but neither had I seen him smile except once when he was given +a great hairy horse—a horse which stretched out its tongue when one +turned it upside down. But it was not every day that a horse like that +could be got.</p> + +<p>Petruccio was four years old, but he could not speak. He would lie hour +after hour quite quiet and silent, but he did not sleep: his great eyes +stood wide open, and it seemed as if he saw something far beyond the +narrow walls of the room—"<i>Sta sempre in pensiero</i>,"<a name="FNanchor_15_15" id="FNanchor_15_15"></a><a href="#Footnote_15_15" class="fnanchor">[15]</a> said +Salvatore.</p> + +<p>Petruccio was supposed to understand everything which was said around +him, and nothing of importance was undertaken in the little family +without first trying to discover Petruccio's opinion of the affair; and +if any one believed that they could read disapproval in the features of +the soulless little one, the whole question fell to the ground at once, +and it was afterwards found that Petruccio had almost always been right.</p> + +<p>On Sundays Salvatore sat at home, and there were usually some other +holiday-dressed workmen visiting him, and in low-toned voices they sat +and argued about wages, about news from <i>il paese</i>, and sometimes +Salvatore treated them to a litre of wine, and they played a game, <i>alla +scopa</i>. Sometimes it was supposed that Petruccio wished to look on, and +then his little bed was moved to the bench where they sat; and sometimes +Petruccio wished to be alone, and then Salvatore and his guests moved +out into the passage. I had, however, remarked that Petruccio's wish to +be alone, and the consequent removal of the company to the passage, +usually happened when the wife was away: if she were at home she saw +plainly that Petruccio wished his father to stay indoors and not go out +with the others. And Petruccio was right enough there, too. Salvatore +was not very difficult to persuade if one of the guests wished to treat +him in his turn. Once out in the passage, it happened often enough that +he went off to the wine-shop too. And once there, it was not so easy for +Salvatore to get away again.</p> + +<p>What was still more difficult was the coming home. His wife forgave him +certainly,—she had done it so many times before; but Salvatore knew +that Petruccio was inexorable, and the thicker the mist of intoxication +fell over him, the more crushed did he feel himself under Petruccio's +reproachful eye. No dissimulation helped here; Petruccio saw through it +at once. Petruccio could even see how much he had drunk, as Salvatore +himself confided to me one Sunday evening when I came upon him sitting +out in the passage, in the deepest repentance. Salvatore was, alas! +obviously uncertain in his speech that evening, and it did not need +Petruccio's perspicacity to see that he had drunk more than usual. I +asked him if he would not go in, but he wished to remain outside to get +<i>un poco d'aria</i>; he was, however, very anxious to know if Petruccio +were awake or not, and I promised to come out and tell him. I also +thought it was best he should sit out there till his head should clear +itself a little bit, though not so much for Petruccio's sake as to spare +his wife; and for that matter this was not the first time I had been +Salvatore's confidant in the like difficult situation. They who see the +lives of the poor near at hand cannot be very severe upon a working man +who, after he has toiled twelve hours a day the whole week, sometimes +gets a little wine into his head. It is a melancholy fact, but we must +judge it leniently; for we must not forget that here at least society +has hardly offered the poorer classes any other distraction.</p> + +<p>I therefore advised my friend Salvatore to sit outside till I came back, +and I went in alone. Inside sat the wife with her child of sorrow in her +arms; and the even breathing of the little girls could be heard from the +box. Petruccio was supposed to know me very well, and even to be fond of +me—although he had never shown it in any way, nor, as far as I knew, +had any sort of feeling ever been mirrored in his face. The mother's +eye, so clear-sighted in everything, nevertheless did not see that there +was no soul in the child's vacant eye; the mother's ear, so sensible to +each breath of the little one, yet did not hear that the confused +sounds which sometimes came from his lips would never form themselves +into human speech. Petruccio had been ill from his birth, his body was +shrunken, and no thought lived under the child's wrinkled forehead. +Unhappily I could do nothing for him; all I could hope for was that the +ill-favoured little one should soon die. And it looked as if his release +were near. That Petruccio had been worse for some time both the mother +and I had understood; and this evening he was so feeble that he was not +able to hold his head up. Petruccio had refused all food since +yesterday, and Salvatore's wife, when I came in, was just trying to +persuade him, with all the sweet words which only a mother knows, to +swallow a little milk; but he would not. In vain the mother put the +spoon to his mouth and said that it was wonderfully good, in vain did +she appeal to my presence, "<i>Per fare piacere al Signor +dottore</i>,"—Petruccio would not. His forehead was puckered, and his +eyes had a look of painful anxiety, but no complaint came from his +tightly compressed lips.</p> + +<p>Suddenly the mother gave a scream. Petruccio's face was distorted with +cramp, and a strong convulsion shook his whole little body. The attack +was soon over; and whilst Petruccio was being laid in his bed, I tried +to calm the mother as well as I could by telling her that children often +had convulsions which were of very little importance, and that there was +no further danger from this one now. I looked up and I saw Salvatore, +who stood leaning against the door-post. He had taken courage, and had +staggered to the door, and, unseen by us, he had witnessed that sight so +terrifying to unaccustomed eyes. He was pale as a corpse, and great +tears ran down the cheeks which had been so lately flushed with drink. +"<i>Castigo di Dio! Castigo di Dio!</i>"<a name="FNanchor_16_16" id="FNanchor_16_16"></a><a href="#Footnote_16_16" class="fnanchor">[16]</a> muttered he with trembling +voice; and he fell on his knees by the door, as if he dared not approach +the feeble cripple who seemed to him like God's mighty avenger.</p> + +<p>The unconscious little son had once more shown his father the right way; +Salvatore went no more to the wine-shop.</p> + +<p>Petruccio grew worse and worse, and the mother no longer left his side. +And it was scarcely a month after she lost her place that Salvatore's +accident happened: he fell from a scaffolding and broke his leg. He was +taken to the Lariboisière Hospital; and the company for whom he worked +paid fifty centimes a day to his family, which they were not obliged to +do,—so that Salvatore's wife had to be very grateful for it. Every +Thursday—the visiting day at the hospital—she was with him for an +hour; and I too saw him now and then. The days went on, and with +Petruccio's mother want increased more and more. The porcelain dog +stood alone now on the Madonna's shelf; and it was not long before the +holiday clothes went the same way as the treasures—to the pawnshop. +Petruccio needed broth and milk every day, and he had them. The little +girls too had enough, I believe, to satisfy them more or less; but what +the mother herself lived upon I do not know.</p> + +<p>I had already tried many times to take Petruccio to the children's +hospital, where he would have been much better off, but as usual all my +powers of eloquence could not achieve this: the poor, as is well known, +will hardly ever be separated from their sick children. The lower middle +class and the town artisans have learnt to understand the value of the +hospital, but the really poor mother, whose culture is very low, will +not leave the side of her sick child: the exceptions to this rule are +extremely rare.</p> + +<p>And so came the 15th, the dreaded day when the quarter's rent must be +paid, when the working man drags his mattress to the pawn-shop, and the +wife draws off her ring, which in her class means much more than in +ours; the day full of terror, when numberless suppliants stand with +lowered heads before their landlord, and when hundreds of families do +not know where they will sleep the next night.</p> + +<p>I happened to pass by there on that very evening, and at the door stood +Salvatore's little girl crying all to herself. I asked her why she +cried, but that she did not know; at last, however, I learned that she +cried because "<i>la mamma piange tanto</i>."<a name="FNanchor_17_17" id="FNanchor_17_17"></a><a href="#Footnote_17_17" class="fnanchor">[17]</a> Inside the yard I ran +against my friend Archangelo Fusco, the street-sweeper, who lived next +door to the Salvatores. He was occupied in dragging his bed out into the +yard, and I did not need to wait for his explanation to understand that +he had been evicted.<a name="FNanchor_18_18" id="FNanchor_18_18"></a><a href="#Footnote_18_18" class="fnanchor">[18]</a> I asked him where he was going to move to, and +he hoped to sleep that night at the Refuge in the Rue Tocqueville, and +afterwards he must find out some other place. Inside sat Salvatore's +wife crying by Petruccio's bed, and on the table stood a bundle +containing the clothes of the family. The Salvatore family had not been +able to pay their rent, and the Salvatore family had been evicted. The +landlord had been there that afternoon, and had said that the room was +let from the morning of the next day. I asked her where she thought of +going, and she said she did not know.</p> + +<p>I had often heard the dreaded landlord talked of; the year before I had +witnessed the same sorrowful scene, when he had turned out into the +street a couple of unhappy families and laid hands upon the little they +possessed. I had never seen him personally, but I thought it might be +useful in my study of human nature to make his acquaintance. Archangelo +Fusco offered to take me to him, and we set forth slowly. On the way my +companion informed me that the landlord was "<i>molto ricco</i>"; besides the +whole court he owned a large house in the vicinity, and this did not +surprise me in the least, because I had long known that he secretly +carried on that most lucrative of all professions—money-lending to the +poor. Archangelo Fusco considered that he on his side had nothing to +gain by a meeting with the landlord, and after he had told me that +besides the rent he also owed him ten francs, we agreed that he should +only accompany me to the entrance.</p> + +<p>A shabbily-dressed old man, with a bloated, disagreeable face opened the +door carefully, and after he had looked me over, admitted me into the +room. I mentioned my errand, and asked him to allow Salvatore to settle +his rent in a few days' time. I told him that Salvatore himself lay in +the hospital, that the child was dying, and that his severity towards +these poor people was inhuman cruelty. He asked who I was, and I +answered that I was a friend of the family. He looked at me, and with an +ugly laugh he said that I could best show that by at once paying their +rent. I felt the blood rushing to my head, I hope and believe it was +only with anger, for one never ought to blush because one is not rich. I +listened for a couple of minutes whilst he abused my poor destitute +Italians with the coarsest words; he said that they were a dirty +thieving pack, who did not deserve to be treated like human beings; that +Salvatore drank up his wages; that the street-sweeper had stolen ten +francs from him; and that they all of them well deserved the misery in +which they lived.</p> + +<p>I asked if he needed this money just now, and from his answer I +understood that here no prayers would avail. He was rich; he owned over +50,000 francs in money, he said, and he had begun with nothing of his +own. It is a melancholy fact that the man who has risen from destitution +to riches is usually cruel to the poor: one would hope and believe the +contrary, but this is unhappily the case.</p> + +<p>My intention when I went there was to endeavour with diplomatic cunning +to effect a kind of arrangement, but alas! I was not the man for that. I +lost my temper altogether and went further than I had intended to do, as +usual. At first he answered me scornfully and with coarse insults, but +he soon grew silent, and I ended by talking alone I should say for +nearly an hour's time. It would serve no purpose to relate what I said +to him; there are occasions when it is legitimate to show one's anger in +action, but it is always stupid to show it in words. I said to him, +however, that this money which had been squeezed out of the poor was +the wages of sin; that his debt to all these poor human beings was far +greater than theirs to him. I pointed to the crucifix which hung against +the wall, and I said that if any divine justice was to be found on this +earth, vengeance could not fail to reach him, and that no prayers could +buy his deliverance from the punishment which awaited him, for his life +was stained with the greatest of all sins—namely cruelty towards the +poor. "And take care, old blood-sucker!" I shouted out at last with +threatening voice; "You owe your money to the poor, but you owe yourself +to the devil, and the hour is near when he will demand his own again!" I +checked myself, startled, for the man sank down in his chair as if +touched by an unseen hand, and pale as death, he stared at me with a +terror which I felt communicated itself to me. The curse I had just +called down rang still in my ears with a strange uncanny sound, which I +did not recognise; and it seemed to me as if there were some one else +in the room besides us two.</p> + +<p>I was so agitated that I have no recollection of how I came away. When I +got home it was already late, but I did not sleep a wink all night; and +even to this day I think with wonder of the waking dream which that +night filled me with an inconceivable emotion. I dreamt that I had +condemned a man to death.</p> + +<p>When I got there in the forenoon the blow had already fallen upon me. I +<i>knew</i> what had happened although no human being had told me. All the +inhabitants of the yard were assembled before the door in eager talk. +"<i>Sapete Signor dottore?</i>"<a name="FNanchor_19_19" id="FNanchor_19_19"></a><a href="#Footnote_19_19" class="fnanchor">[19]</a> they called out as soon as they saw me.</p> + +<p>"Yes, I know," answered I, and hurried to Salvatore's. I bent down over +Petruccio and pretended to examine his chest; but breathless I listened +to every word that the wife said to me.</p> + +<p>The landlord had come down there late yesterday evening, she said. The +little girl had run away and hidden herself when he came into the room; +but Concetta had remained behind her mother's chair, and when he asked +why they were so afraid of him, Concetta had answered because he was so +cruel to mamma. He had sat there upon the bench a long time without +saying a word, but he did not look angry, Salvatore's wife thought. At +last he said to her she need not be anxious about the rent; she could +wait to pay it till next time. And when he left he laid a five-franc +piece upon the table to buy something for Petruccio. Outside the door he +had met Archangelo Fusco with his bed on a hand-cart, preparing to take +himself off, and he had told the street-sweeper too that he could remain +in his lodging. He had asked Archangelo Fusco about me, and Archangelo +Fusco, who judged me with friendship's all-forgiving forbearance, had +said nothing unkind about me. He had then gone on his way, and +according to what was discovered by the police investigations he had, +contrary to his habit, passed the evening in the wine-shop close by, and +the porter had thought he looked drunk when he came home. As he lived +quite alone, and for fear of thieves or from avarice, attended to his +housekeeping himself, no one knew what had happened; but lights were +burning in the house the whole night, and when he did not come down in +the morning, and his door was fastened inside, they had begun to suspect +foul play and sent for the police. He was still warm when they cut him +down; but the doctor whom the police sent for said that he had already +been dead a couple of hours. They had not been able to discover the +smallest reason for his hanging himself. All that was known was that he +had been visited in the evening by a strange gentleman who had stayed +with him more than an hour, and the neighbours had heard a violent +dispute going on inside. No one in the house had seen the strange +gentleman before, and no one knew who he was.</p> + +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> + +<p>The Roussel Yard belongs now to the dead man's brother; and to my joy +the new landlord's first action was to have the rooms in it repaired, so +that now they look more habitable. He also lowered the rents.</p> + +<p>The Salvatores moved thence when Petruccio died; but the place is still +full of Italians. I go there now and then; and in spite of all the talk +about the Paris doctors' <i>jalousie de métier</i>, I have never yet met any +one who tried to supplant me in this practice.</p> + + +<br /><br /><br /><br /> +<h2><a name="BLACKCOCK-SHOOTING" id="BLACKCOCK-SHOOTING"></a>BLACKCOCK-SHOOTING</h2> + + +<p>The passion for the chase is man's passion for pursuing, and if possible +killing, animals living in liberty. The passion for the chase is the +expression of the same impulse of the stronger to overthrow the weaker +which goes through the whole animal series. The wild beast's lust for +murder has been tamed to unconscious instinct, and thousand years of +culture lie between our wild ancestors who slew each other with stone +axes for a piece of raw fish, and the sportsman of our day. But it is +only the method which has been refined, the principle is the same.</p> + +<p>The passion for killing is an animal instinct, and as such, impossible +to eradicate. But it behoves man, conscious of his high rank, to +struggle against this vice of his wild childhood, this phantom from the +grave in which sleep the progenitors of his race.</p> + +<p>I cannot give you here in detail my proposals for new game laws—the +matter is not yet quite ripe—but I am very willing to explain the +fundamental principle on which they rest. I maintain that the very great +start which mankind has gained through the law of natural selection has +made the struggle between the man and the animal <i>too unequal to be +fair</i>; I maintain that killing animals is an unmanly and an ignoble +occupation.</p> + +<p>Yes, but as regards wild beasts, wolves, foxes, etc., you don't really +mean to stand up for them? Of course I do! First of all it has never +been proved that the wild animals attacked man the first. And in the +hopeless, defensive warfare in which the animals with vanishing strength +struggle against mankind, all my sympathies are unhesitatingly given to +the weaker. Yes, it is quite true that now and then they take a hen or +a sheep from us; but what is that in comparison with all we take from +them, from woods and fields which were meant to be their larder as well +as ours? And do not talk too much about the ferocity of the wolf, you +men, who have the heart treacherously to put out poisoned food for the +starving animal! Perhaps you have not seen this way of killing wolves, +but I have. I have seen the victim's agony written in the snow; seen how +he has walked a little way and then begun to totter; has fallen, and +with ebbing strength tried to get up again; in mad delirium has rolled +in the snow whilst the poison was burning his bowels, and then at last +has lain down to die. And I have watched the trapper when he joyfully +came to seize his prey.</p> + +<p>Do not talk too much about the cunning of the fox, you men who have +invented the spring-traps which cut into his leg when he tries to take +the lying bait which you have set out for him. In England you have not +seen this way of catching foxes, but I have. I have seen the prisoner +struggling with his last strength to get free, with the blood flowing +from his wounded leg, cut to the bone by the sharp iron; I have heard +the animal's moan far off in the night, and I have seen the footmarks in +the snow of his comrades, who have anxiously roamed around.</p> + +<p>"But this is horrible! how is it possible that such a thing can be +allowed?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, you are right; it is horrible; but this is the death which awaits +many foxes both in Russia and Scandinavia, and in Germany too."</p> + +<p>"In England it would be considered a crime to kill a fox in that way."</p> + +<p>"Yes, I know well that England is the country for lovers of animals. +What a fine graceful animal is the fox——"</p> + +<p>"Only think what would become of the noblest of all sports, that of +fox-hunting——"</p> + +<p>Fox-hunting! and you call that a noble sport? I will tell you what +fox-hunting is—no, I think I will not tell you. I will only say that +were I a fox, I think I would rather try to cross the Channel and become +a continental fox than to be hunted to death by your hounds and your +spurred horses. And the spur which urges you on, what is that? The love +of galloping away on a fiery horse in wild chase over hedge and +ditch—ah! I understand that joy well! But why must you have an animal +flying in terror for its life before you? Why not leave the pursuers and +the pursued to themselves if the latter is doomed to die and has to die? +Why do you wish to witness his desperate struggle for life against his +manifold stronger enemy? And why, if everything be all right, do you +often enough feel something akin to satisfaction if by chance the fox +escapes? I only ask, I dare not answer—I dare not for fear of my +Editor. And I think we had better drop this subject altogether; it is +too dangerous a one to discuss before an English public.</p> + +<p>Once when travelling in Norway I heard of a famous man, the wealthiest +of that country. I was told he had made his fame and his money as a +promoter of a new method of catching whales. Nature to protect the +whales has given them their slippery coat and their thick lining of +blubber, but that man has overreached Nature. He kills them with +dynamite. You ask, as I did, when I heard the horrible story, if that +man has not been hanged. Alas, my poor friend! we do not understand the +world at all; the man has by no means been hanged. True that a cord has +been put round his neck, but it was the cord of Commander of St. +Olaf—<i>sapristi!</i> they are not very particular in that country! I am +very sorry for him, but were I to meet that man I would decline to shake +hands with him. What have the whales done to man to be treated in this +way? Have they not always been inoffensive and harmless ever since that +kind old whale who happened to swallow the prophet Jonah, and then spat +him carefully back on the shore? Only think what a horrible idea to +blast in pieces a sensitive body as one blasts in pieces a rock! Think +what a barbarous conception of man's position towards animals is here +allowed to be put in practice, think of that—before the man is promoted +to a Grand Cross of his St. Olaf!</p> + +<p>Before giving the last touches to my new game-laws—the fundamental +principles of which I have hinted to you—I am perfectly willing to +listen to any legitimate claims of the sportsman, and I shall be glad to +try to satisfy them if they do not harm the animals. But on one point I +am firm. Under no pretext shall children be allowed to shoot, on account +of the great development this occupation gives to the instinctive +cruelty of the child, and the rude colour it lends to the formation of +the whole character. Kindness to our inferiors we ought to be taught as +children; life will surely teach us to grow hard enough. Nor are +children to be allowed to watch shooting; for men's faces turn so ugly +when they are pursuing a flying animal, and the child should be +protected as much as possible from the sight of anything unbeautiful.</p> + +<p>Ah! I remember so well a little lad up in Sweden who had escaped from +school one clear spring morning. He saw how the trees were budding and +the meadows in flower, and high up in the air he heard the song of the +first skylark. The boy lay down silently in the grass and listened with +thankfulness and joy. He knew well what the skylark sang: it sang that +the long winter was over, and that it was springtime in the North. And +he stared at the little bird high up in the bright air; he stared at it +till the tears came into his eyes. He would have liked to kiss the wings +which had borne it far over the wide sea home again; he would have liked +to warm it at his heart in the frosty spring nights; he would have liked +to guard its summer nest from all evil. Yes, surely the skylark could +have remained longer in the land of eternal summer! But it knew that up +in the cold North there wandered about men longing for spring breezes +and summer sun, for flowers and song of birds. So it flew home, the +courageous little bird, home to the frozen field from where the pale +morning sun melted the white frost-flowers of the night, where primroses +and anemones were waking up from their winter sleep. With the head +hidden under the down of its wings it kept out the cold of the night, +and when the horizon brightened, it flew up and sang its joyful morning +hymn—sang Nature's promise of life-bringing sun. But the next day the +boy read in the newspaper under the title: <i>Forerunner of +Spring</i>—"Yesterday the first skylark of the year was shot, and brought +to the Kings palace." Man had killed the innocent little bird on whose +wings Spring had flown to the North, and whose little songster's heart +was beating with Nature's jubilant joy! And in the palace they had eaten +the gray-coated little messenger of summer! That day the boy swore his +Hannibal oath against shooting. And when he fell asleep that night he +dreamt about a republican rebellion.</p> + +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> + +<p>Do not believe that this is nothing but theoretical nonsense—that I am +discussing matters of which I know nothing. For there was a time when I +felt the fascination of the gun myself; there was a time when I too was +a great shot. The man who is now sitting here and scribbling about his +love for animals, shoots no more; but it is with an indulgent smile on +his lips that he looks back upon the whimsical sportsman of bygone days.</p> + +<p>Yes, I have been a sportsman—a great sportsman. I have often made long +journeys to join shooting parties, and more than once there was no one +in the whole company who fired off as many cartridges as I did. All my +best friends were amongst sportsmen, and it was seldom indeed I failed +to be present on the opening day of the season. We had lots of good +sport about my place, but the best was blackcock-shooting. Do you know +anything about blackcock-shooting? A very fine sport. How many pleasant +recollections have I not from those happy sporting days! how many joyful +rambles through the silent forests! how many peaceful hours passed away +in half-waking dreams, with the head leaning against a mossy hillock +and soft murmuring pines all around! And how happy, too, was my poor old +Tom during these never-to-be-forgotten days of sport! How glad was he to +scamper about on the soft moss instead of the stones of the streets! how +contentedly he lay down to harmonious contemplations by my side—so near +that I could now and then caress his beautiful head and catch a friendly +glance from his half-open eyes. He knew I was always in splendid temper +on those shooting days, and that was all he required to be perfectly +happy himself. But if I begin to speak about my dear old dog we shall +never arrive at the blackcock, and it is about them I want to speak +to-day.</p> + +<p>The gamekeeper had long known the whereabouts of the birds, and +carefully exploring the woods he had often enough heard the call of the +hen; the blackcock chicks had, so to speak, grown up under his eyes, and +he had tried in all sorts of ways to take care of them, the good +gamekeeper! And now since they had grown up, the important thing had +been to keep them undisturbed lest they should be dispersed. We +sportsmen came down the day before the opening day, and well do I +remember those pleasant evenings, with a stroll in the forest to clear +the lungs from the dust of the town, and then supper in the gamekeeper's +cottage in excellent company, flavoured with stories of first-rate shots +and marvellous adventures. At first I used to be rather shy, and would +silently sit and listen to the others' wonderful tales, but I soon got +to learn the trick, and having once mastered the technical terms, I had +shot every kind of game at every conceivable range. After dinner, when +we got hold of our pipes, I had killed swallows with bullets at +tremendous distances, and my friends began to consult me about guns and +cartridges and all the other paraphernalia, and were most anxious to +have my advice about the arrangements for the next day. Tom lay beside +us in the grass and stared with solemn dignity at the company, winking +knowingly at me with one eye when no one else was looking, whilst I was +telling them about his pedigree and some of his most astounding +achievements. When we had delivered ourselves of all our stories, and +every one's power of invention had come to an end, we began to yawn, and +soon dispersed to our sleeping-quarters to gain strength for next day's +hard work.</p> + +<p>I remember so well my first blackcock. I had happened to come upon the +birds during a short walk with the gamekeeper in the afternoon, and I +had heard the mother's anxious call, and had seen some clumsy blackcock +children following after her into the forest. I was so excited that I +could not close my eyes all night, and could think of nothing but +blackcock. Outside, the enchanting summer night allured me to its +darkening fells and mysterious woods, and it was as though I could see +before my eyes the condemned blackcock where they sat and slept their +last sleep. Everything was still in the cottage, and, silent as ghosts, +Tom and I glided out armed to the teeth. Yes, I could see the blackcock +so distinctly before me, that I had scarcely reached the glen where we +had come upon them in the afternoon than I fired off my gun. No +blackcock fell. But hardly had the dreadful thunder of the gun died away +than the whole forest woke up. Startled small birds fluttered backward +and forward deeper into the brushwood. A little squirrel peeped +cautiously between two branches, dropped in his fright the fir-cone he +was crunching, and then jumped hastily away. The nasty smoke spread with +the wind farther in the wood, and pinched the nose of a hare who sat +half-asleep under a bush. "I smell human blood," said the hare to +himself, like the giant to Tom Thumb, and off he went in a tremendous +hurry to find a safer refuge for the day's rest. Tom and I watched him +with interest as he stopped short in catching sight of us, stamped with +his paws, and then scampered off. The hare has the reputation of being +rather ugly; we noticed, on the contrary, that he was quite graceful in +his elegant leap over a fallen fir-tree, and I was sorry he did not give +us a little longer time in which to look at him. It is not every day one +gets a hare; and very satisfied with the beginning of our day, we went +on farther into the forest, keeping a sharp look-out for the blackcock. +We soon left the forest track and wandered along over the moss, soft as +velvet, without the slightest idea where we were going. So we came upon +a little brook which cheerfully murmured in our ears as he hurried +along, would we not like to accompany him down to the lake? and that we +did, to make sure that he did not go astray in the gloom between +hillocks and stones. We could not see him, but we heard him singing to +himself the whole time. Now and then he stopped short at a jutting rock +or fallen tree and waited for us, and then he rushed down the vale +quicker than ever to make up for lost time. Yes, it was easy enough for +him, who had nothing to carry but some flowers and dry leaves, to rush +off with such a speed; he should have had that confounded gun to drag +with him, he would then have seen how easy a matter it was! And thus it +happened that he ran away from us. We did not know what to do next, so +we fired off a shot again. No blackcock fell. But we had scarcely time +to load the gun again before we came upon the whole covey. Fancy if I +had not had time to load! But they got it all right. There was a +tremendous whirring up in the tree-tops, and on heavy wings they +dispersed in different directions. We thought the blackcock was a very +fine bird, who looks exceedingly well in a forest.</p> + +<p>Hallo! There he came again, our friend the brook, dancing toward us +happier than ever, and I bent down to kiss his night-cool face just as +he glided past me. Ah! now there was no longer any danger that he should +lose his way, for already the night had fled away on swift dwarf-feet to +hide itself deeper in the forest under the thick firs. Around us birches +and aspens put on their green coats, and amongst the moss and fern at +our feet small flowers stretched their pretty heads out of the gloom and +looked at us as we passed. And deep below in the misty valley a lake +opened its eyelid.</p> + +<p>So we got sick of blackcock-shooting and we sat down on a mossy stone to +read a chapter of Nature's bible whilst the sun rose above the fir-tops +and the sky brightened over our heads.</p> + +<p>The disturber of the peace sat there quite quiet, silently wondering to +himself how it could be possible that men exist who have the heart to +bring sorrow and death into a friendly forest. And the small birds also +began to wonder, wonder whether that dreadful thunder which awoke them +was only a bad dream; the whole forest was so silent again, and +perchance it might not be so dangerous to try a little song! And so they +took courage one after another and began each to sing their tune. Some +were perfect artists and sang long arias with trills and variations; +some sang folk-songs; some knew nothing but a little refrain, and that +they did not in the least mind repeating over and over again; and some +only knew how to hum a single little note, but they were just as merry +for all that. And now and again one could hear among all the soprani a +rich melodious alto who sang an old ballad—listen! that is the +greatest artist in the whole forest; that is the blackbird!</p> + +<p>So I thanked my little wild friends for their song; they knew well how +happy I felt with them. But I was obliged to turn home again. I told +them that I was a sportsman and that I had to be at the rendezvous with +my party at seven sharp. I told them to be prudent, to listen carefully +for the sound of our voices and to fly on quick wings as soon as we +approached—they must be aware that men are so unmusical that they do +not know how to appreciate a soulful artist; that they are so unkind, +one can never know what may happen. And the merry squirrels, the +red-skinned little acrobats of the woods, I told them also to be on the +look-out, to take care not to crunch their fir-cones too loudly and not +to peep too much from behind their tree—they must know that men are so +cold in their hearts that to keep warm they wrap themselves in furs +made from their small red coats. I had also prepared a speech for the +blackcock, but, as I never caught sight of them again, I could not +deliver it. But I had the impression that they had grasped the situation +thoroughly, and that was all I wanted of them.</p> + +<p>I was punctual at the rendezvous, and the party set off in excellent +spirits. We roamed about the whole day, strode miles and miles with our +huge game-bags dangling behind our backs, sank knee-deep into morasses +and bogs, climbed over hundreds of hedges and tore our faces with the +branches of the tangled brushwood. We were all to meet in the evening at +the shooting-box, where supper (with roast blackcock) was to be served, +and where also, idyllic enough, ladies were to come to give the +sportsmen welcome, and to share the spoil.</p> + +<p>As one sportsman after the other, hungry and disappointed, reached the +meeting-place, dragging his gun after him, those who were already there +looked eagerly at his bag. I was one of the last, and I saw at once that +the situation was gloomy. I was also in a bad temper, having just +discovered that I had unfortunately left my gun behind somewhere, and I +could not remember in the least where it might be. I was very +disagreeably surprised to see one of the party with a cry of triumph +seize hold of my bag. The bag looked really as if it were filled, but +the fact was I was absolutely unprepared for such importunate +examination. I protested and said it contained nothing but small birds +and squirrels, but he took the bag from me and the whole party watched +with avaricious eyes when he thrust in his hand and fumbled in the bag. +After he had pulled out my whole little shooting-library, Heine and +Alfred de Musset and my old friend Leopardi, all the sportsmen looked at +each other with amazement. And I quite lost my head. They became +absolutely furious when, with my unfortunate absent-mindedness, I +happened to let out that I had made a little private excursion before +sunrise and by chance had come across some blackcock. "<i>But had you not +time to fire at them?</i>" they cried, shaking me by the arms and pulling +at my coat. "<i>Yes, of course, I had time to fire, but the blackcock had +also time to get away.</i>" "<i>Did you not aim at the thick of the covey?</i>" +they yelled with bloodshot eyes and contorted faces. "<i>No, I think that +I aimed at a little cloud, and, for the matter of that, I think I hit +it, for a moment later I saw that the sky was beautifully blue.</i>" My +remark about the cloud must have been to the point, for it made them +absolutely dumbfounded; they only shook their heads in silence and +stared at me while I put my books in the bag again. I had not time to +stay longer, having to go and look at the effects of the sunset deeper +in the wood, and I politely begged them to excuse me for breaking up +the party.</p> + +<p>I had not gone many steps before there broke out a frightful dispute +amongst them as to who was guilty of having brought me amongst them, +and, as far as I could make out, they called me "that idiot."</p> + +<p>I was never invited to that place any more. For the matter of that, it +was an observation I often made—I was never invited more than once to +any place. To my astonishment I saw myself cut out from one house-party +after another, and there sprang up a rumour that I brought bad luck with +me. Isn't it odd, this often-observed tendency to superstition amongst +sportsmen?</p> + +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> + +<p>I have really no time to linger any longer over my new game-laws, for I +have so many other reforms concerning the animals at hand. Only think +how much there is to be done for domestic animals also! The division of +labour forms here a most important chapter. The domestic animals will +only have to work a certain number of hours a day, in proportion to +their strength, and not, as now, work themselves to death. And so when +age comes upon them men will have to try to give back to the tired +animals a small part of all that these humble fellow-workmen have given +to them as long as they were able. Surely the domestic animals belong to +the family; and just as the old labourer is allowed to end his days in +peace in his little cottage, so shall the old horse, when his eyes begin +to grow dim and his legs to get stiff, be allowed to rest in his stall; +and now and then one should go and pet the old servant with grateful +hands, and give him his bit of bread as before. The old worn-out ox, +surely he too might be allowed at last to glean a little dry hay from +the fields which he in his strong days has so many times ploughed for +the seed, which year after year filled the farmer's barn with golden +sheaves and sweet clover. And the kind, sympathetic little donkeys, +whose whole life is a series of self-renunciation, and whose melancholy +is an unheard protest against the degradation into which they have +fallen—surely I shall not forget you in my reforms, my poor Italian +friends! And keep up your courage, resigned little donkeys! your cause +is a good one, the tyranny of barbarians shall come to an end one day, +and the oppressed animals shall be given back their right to enjoy life, +even they! And the day will come when you are to be reinstated in the +high social position which your misunderstood intelligence and your +subtle humour entitle you to hold, and when you shall throw back in the +faces of your oppressors the epithet which short-sighted men now apply +to you!</p> + +<p>The sanitary condition of animals is to be improved a great deal. +Hospitals and asylums for sick and aged animals are to be founded. Up +till now I know personally of only two almshouses, that in London for +"lost and starving dogs"—where they are not so badly cared for—and +that in Florence for aged and infirm cats—it includes a <i>crêche</i> for +lost and orphan kittens (it has been founded by an English lady, I +believe).</p> + +<p>The jurisdiction is to be entirely changed. Flogging is only to be +allowed in certain exceptional cases, and only after serious +remonstrances and repeated warnings. There is nothing in the whole of +creation so stubborn as a school-boy when he tries his best; well, now, +when one is no longer allowed to flog him, why may one then be allowed +to beat the animal whose duller perception ought so much the more to +protect him from the birch-rod?</p> + +<p>Capital execution—I recognise its necessity—is to be changed from +arbitrary barbarity to an institution watched over by mildness and +tenderness for the condemned animal. The animal-executioners should form +a corporation apart, kept under the severest supervision. The profession +is a repulsive but a necessary one, and the individuals who enlist +themselves on its roll deserve high wages.</p> + +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> + +<p>It was never meant that man should be an autocratic tyrant in the great +society which peoples the world, but a constitutional monarch. I had +dreamt of a republic, but I admit that our earth is not yet ripe for +this form of government. Yes, man is the ruler of the earth; always +victorious, he carries his blood-stained banner round the world, and his +kingdom has no longer any limit. But man is an upstart—I, at any rate, +cannot believe all his talk about his high birth. He will try to take us +in by saying that he is a foundling who was mysteriously put into the +nursery of creation, and that he is of far nobler origin than anybody +else on the whole earth. It is true there is something peculiar about +him, and that he is domineering and arrogant: that he showed early +enough. Even when a baby, and lying at Nature's mother-breast, he pushed +away the other children of the earth, and drank the strength of life in +deep draughts. Hardly could he crawl before he scratched his kind nurse +in the face and beat his weaker foster-brothers. So he grew up to be a +true bully, a brutish Protanthropos, breaking down each obstacle, +subduing with the right of the stronger all opposition. And the law of +selection enlarged his facial angle, and culture put arms in his hands. +How could the sickle-like claws of <i>Ursus spelæus</i> (cave-bear) prevail +against his trident studded with thorns or twig-spikes or set with +razor-edged shells? What could the six-inch long canines of Machærodus +do against his sharpened flint? And so they disappeared, one after the +other, these vanquished giants, into the gloom of past ages. But the +power of man expanded more and more, and higher and higher flew his +thoughts. Now the earth lies at his feet, and he prepares to assault +heaven! And he has been so spoiled by all his success, so refined by all +civilisation, that he turns up his aristocratic nose whenever one +reminds him of his childhood. And his humble old ancestors, among whom +his cradle stood, and all his poor relations who, homeless, rove about +the earth, these he will not own at all, and he is so hard to them. But +man is no longer young—no one knows exactly how many hundred thousand +years he carries on his back; but I think it is time for him to reflect +a little upon all the evil he has done in his days, and try to grow a +little kinder in his old age. The day will come when the last man will +lie down to die, and when a new-crowned king of creation will mount the +throne—<i>le roi est mort, vive le roi!</i> So falls the twilight of ages +round the sarcophagus where the dead monarch sleeps in the Pantheon of +Palæontology. The dust covers the inscription which records all the +honorary titles of the dead, and the standards which witnessed his +victories moulder away. Up there in the new planet sits a professor, and +lectures about the remains from prehistoric times, and he hands round to +his audience a fragile cranium, which is carefully examined by wondering +students. It is our cranium, with that upright facial angle and that +large brain-pan which was our pride! And the professor makes a casual +remark about <i>Homo Sapiens</i>, and he points out the fang which is still +to be seen in the jaw.</p> + +<p>We learn from the long story of the development of our race that the +hunter-stage was the lowest of all human conditions, the most purely +animal. The pursuing and killing of animals for mere pleasure is a +humiliating reminiscence from this time of savagery. Man's right over +the animal is limited to his right of defence, and his right of +existence. The former can only very seldom be evoked in our country; the +latter cannot be evoked by our class.</p> + +<p>A man of culture recognises his obligations towards animals as a +compensation for the servitude he imposes on them. The pursuing and +killing of animals for mere pleasure is incompatible with the fulfilment +of these obligations. Sympathy extending beyond the limit of humanity, +<i>i.e.</i> kindness to animals, is one of the latest moral qualities +acquired by mankind. This sympathy is absolutely lacking in the lowest +human races, and the degree of this sympathy possessed by an individual +marks the distance which separates him from his primitive state of +savagery.</p> + +<p>An individual who enjoys the pursuing and killing of animals is thus to +be considered as a transitional type between a savage and a man of +culture. He forms the missing link in the evolution of the mind from +brutishness to humanity.</p> + + +<br /><br /><br /><br /> +<h2><a name="TO_mdash" id="TO_mdash"></a>TO ——</h2> + +<div class="poem2"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i4">"The firmest friend,</span> +<span class="i0">The first to welcome, foremost to defend."</span> +<span class="i8"><span class="smcap">Byron.</span></span> +</div></div> + + +<p>We have camped together for the whole of ten years. We have stuck to +each other in both joy and sorrow; honestly we have shared good and +evil.</p> + +<p>When I am happy he is also happy; he does not for a moment consider if +he has any personal reason to cheer up; he doesn't ask for any +explanations; he only thinks of partaking in my pleasure—only a glance, +a nod, or a single friendly word is enough for him, and his whole honest +face lights up with my joy. And when I am depressed and miserable, he +then sits so sorrowfully by my side. He does not try to console me, for +he knows how little words of pity avail; he says nothing, for he knows +that silence is a comfort when one is sad. He only looks steadfastly at +me, and maybe puts his big head on my knee. He knows that he cannot +fathom what it is that worries me; that his poor, dark brain cannot +follow me in all I am thinking about; but his faithful heart anyhow +wants to claim his share of my burden.</p> + +<p>Others think I am quick-tempered and angry, and pay me back in the same +way; his patient indulgence knows how to forgive everything; his +friendship stands the trial against all injustice. Am I nervous and hard +on him when I leave him, he rewards evil with good and comes just as +friendly and caressingly to meet me when I come back. Others sit in +judgment over my many faults, and have only words of blame for whatever +I take in hand; he tries with loving eagerness to find out the least +ugly side of everything; he refuses to believe me capable of anything +wrong. When I defend a cause, I am too often considered to be in the +wrong; but he thinks always as I do. In the moment of adversity no +friends are to be found; he is always at my side ready to defend me +against any peril, happy, if required, to give his life for mine.</p> + +<p>He never complains; he is always satisfied, however uncomfortable he is, +if only he may be allowed to be with me. He can sit for hours out in the +street waiting patiently, in cold and rain, whilst I am visiting some of +my acquaintances where he is not received. Is there no room in the +carriage when I drive, he runs just as cheerfully behind me; he is even +delighted when I am driving; he is proud of me; he thinks it looks +grand. Do I go out in my boat, without hesitation he jumps in the water +after me; he swims as long as he has any breath left, and when his +strength begins to give out, with a last effort he raises himself out of +the water to look after the boat, but to return to the shore he never +dreams of. When I travel by train, he sits, without complaining, cramped +up in his little compartment for however long it may be, without a scrap +of comfort, with the sharp wind blowing straight through, sore in all +his bones with the continual shaking, softened by no springs, black in +his face as a sweep from the smoke of the engine. And anyhow, whenever +the train stops, he shouts out cheerfully that he is there, and all well +on board. Have I time to run forward and look at him, he peeps out +patiently and contentedly through his little barred window, and presses +his dry nose against my hand—never a hint that he is aware how +uncomfortable he is, compared to me in my luxurious wagon-lit; never the +slightest complaint against the railway company who has done so +surprisingly little for travellers of his class.</p> + +<p>But if he, out of delicacy for me, has never wanted to make any +complaint, I do not see why I should be kept back from doing so by any +such consideration. And I may as well tell you that I am thinking of +getting up a petition to protest against <i>the unfair distribution of +comfort for railway travellers</i>. I have been inquiring about it for the +many years I have knocked about on the railways of all nations, and I am +pretty sure that I may count upon a great number of signatures from +travellers concerned. Man, who always takes the best of everything, and +thinks of nobody but himself, has also succeeded in securing all sorts +of advantages from the railway companies—advantages which exclusively +benefit him, but which are a crying injustice towards other travellers, +who have also paid for their tickets, and consequently have a right, +even they, to claim the fulfilment of the obligations which the railway +company has accepted towards them. If I am waked up in the night in my +comfortable berth by the heating apparatus having gone wrong, and find +the compartment cold, I have only to complain to the conductor; but I +have innumerable times heard loud complaints from the dog-compartments +about the ice-cold night-wind blowing straight through them, and I have +never noticed any one pay the slightest attention to this. If my +neighbour lights a cigar, and having blown a cloud of smoke in my face, +asks me if I object to his smoking, although it is not a smoking +compartment, I have only to answer "Yes," to get rid of the smoke; but +who has ever asked the dogs if they object to the thick fumes of coal +which the engine puffs in their faces the whole time, where the poor +fellows sit in the front van?</p> + +<p>All trains stop at certain places for refreshment, and we have only to +run into the buffet to eat our fill; but is there any one who knows how +difficult it is to get a little food and a drink of water for a +travelling dog? The minutes are counted, and you are served in turn as +you come to the buffet, you believe. No, not in the very least, the dogs +are always skipped over, even if they have their money lying ready +before them on the table; and as often as not, when their turn comes the +bell rings, and the train is off. When I was in the first stage of my +human knowledge—the Idealistic—I always asked for some food for my +dog; that was no good, no waiter was kind enough to listen to that. +Later, when in the second stage—that of Vanishing Illusions—I asked at +once for a beefsteak for my dog; that was not much better, the chances +of getting anything are very small. In the third stage—that of +Hopeless Pessimism—I immediately ask for dinner for two, and turn two +chairs at the <i>table d'hôte</i>; Tappio disappears instantly under the +table, and I hand down to him his portion as it is placed before his +chair. I have acquired such a practice in this that nobody notices where +the food goes, and silent as a ghost, Tappio swallows down both cutlets +and pastry in one gulp—the only thing which has made him lose +countenance has been the, in Italy, not uncommon practice of serving +ice-cream, of the inconvenience of which, at railway dinners, I agree +with him. I remember how once in Macon—the Paris-Turin night-train used +to stop there for supper—we had as neighbours a peaceful family of +bourgeois, the members of which, one after the other, dropped their +knives and forks as the dinner proceeded, and stared at me and my +rapidly vanishing double portions with increasing amazement. At last a +little old lady, who was of the party, exclaimed, quite aloud, "<i>Voilà +un homme que je ne voudrais pas inviter à dîner, il serait capable de +manger les assiettes aussi!</i>"</p> + +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> + +<p>Yes, we have seen a good deal of the world; we have met many people on +our way; our experience of life is large enough. There was a time when +we were ambitious we also, very ambitious. We dreamt of prize medals and +certificates for both of us, of Persian carpets under our feet, and of +roasted ortolans flying straight into our mouths. That time is past, one +of us is already gray, but no roasted ortolans have flown into our +mouths, nor any Persian carpets spread themselves under our feet. And +when the floor feels too cold, I lay down my cloak for my comrade to lie +upon. And we begin to realise what man is worth. We used to be idealists +because we believed that others were idealists. We were gentle and +harmless as lambs because we believed that others were so. We were +philanthropists. But we have discovered that we were mistaken. Men are +not at all kind to each other. They talk so much about friendship, but +there are only very few of them who are capable of realising the true +signification of this word.</p> + +<p>But, to be sure, they laugh if one gives to a dog's faithful devotion +the name of friendship, if with thankful recognition one strives to +repay as far as lies in one's power the humble comrade whom they call +but a soulless animal, whose fine, sensitive thought they call instinct, +and for whose honest, noble soul they deny all right to live any longer +than his faithful dog-heart beats.</p> + +<p>If this be not virtue, this all-sacrificing, all-self-denying, +all-injustice-forgetting love,—well, then, I don't know what virtue +means; and should his only reward for a whole life's faithful devotion +consist in being shot in his old age and buried under a tree in the +park at home, then all I can say is, that I do not believe that we +either will get beyond the grave where our remains will one day be laid.</p> + + +<br /><br /><br /><br /> +<h2><a name="MONSIEUR_ALFREDO" id="MONSIEUR_ALFREDO"></a>MONSIEUR ALFREDO</h2> + + +<p>I do not in the least know how I happened to come upon the modest little +café, nor do I know how it came to pass that during the whole of that +year I frequented no other.</p> + +<p>I wonder whether it was not on account of Monsieur Alfredo that I became +an habitué there.</p> + +<p>He evidently had his luncheon later than I, as I had already had time to +smoke a couple of cigarettes before he made his appearance at the Café +de l'Empereur, upright and trim in his tightly-buttoned frock-coat, a +roll of manuscript under his arm, and his gray hair in neat curls +surrounding his wrinkled, childlike face. The waiter brought him his +little cup of coffee and placed the chess-board between us. Monsieur +Alfredo, with old-fashioned courtesy, inquired after my health, and I on +my side received satisfactory assurances as to his well-being. I busied +myself in placing the chess-men, and whilst I groped under the table to +find that pawn which somehow or other had always fallen to the ground, +Monsieur Alfredo rapidly produced his lump of sugar out of his pocket +and put it into his cup.</p> + +<p>We always played two games. I am singularly unlucky in games, and the +old man, who loved chess, beamed all over every time he checkmated me. +He played very slowly, but with amazing boldness, and even after having +played with him every day for months together, I was still incapable of +forming an opinion as to which of us played the worse. What puzzled me +most of all was the fact that Monsieur Alfredo seldom or never played +anything but kings and queens; occasionally, with reluctance, he would +put the knights, castles, and bishops into requisition, but as to the +pawns, he appeared to ignore them altogether. I had never before seen +anybody play in this way, and often enough had I to look very sharp to +make sure of losing.</p> + +<p>The conversation turned on literature, and above all, the theatre. +Monsieur Alfredo was extremely exacting as to dramatic art, and approved +of no other form than the tragic. He was exceedingly difficult as to +authors. I was just then full of Victor Hugo, but Monsieur Alfredo +considered him much too sentimental. Racine and Corneille he thought +better of, although he gave me to understand he considered them lacking +in power. He despised comedy and refused point-blank to admit Scribe, +Augier, Labiche, or Dumas as celebrities. One only needed to mention the +name of Offenbach or Lecocq to make the otherwise peaceful Monsieur +Alfredo fall into a complete rage; he then burst forth into Italian, +which he never spoke unless greatly excited; he denounced them as +<i>Birbanti</i>, and <i>Avvelenatori</i>,<a name="FNanchor_20_20" id="FNanchor_20_20"></a><a href="#Footnote_20_20" class="fnanchor">[20]</a>—they had with their music spread +the poison which had killed the good taste of a whole generation, and +they were, to a great extent, responsible for the downfall of tragedy in +our days.</p> + +<p>He seemed well informed in everything concerning the Paris theatres, and +was evidently a frequent playgoer himself; I had once or twice hinted +that we should go to the theatre together some evening, but had observed +that Monsieur Alfredo never seemed willing to understand me.</p> + +<p>As soon as we had finished our second game, Monsieur Alfredo produced +four sous wrapped up in paper, called the waiter and asked what he had +to pay, and laid his four sous on the table. The Café de l'Empereur was +not a very expensive place, as you may perceive; on the Boulevard St. +Michel they charged you eight sous for a cup of coffee, here you only +had to pay four if you took it without milk or sugar—Monsieur Alfredo +had long ago confided to me his experience that sugar took away half the +fragrance of coffee. I, who was not so particular, had both sugar and +milk with my coffee, and cognac besides, but never once had I succeeded +in getting Monsieur Alfredo to accept a glass from me. I had tried to +tempt him with everything the Café de l'Empereur could offer, but the +old gentleman had always declined courteously but firmly.</p> + +<p>I knew that Monsieur Alfredo was an author, and that it was the +manuscript of a five-act tragedy he carried under his arm. I have always +admired authors and artists, and I tried my best to make him understand +how flattered I felt by his society. I had long ago told him everything +about myself and my affairs, but Monsieur Alfredo showed for a long +while a singular reticence in all that concerned himself. Sometimes, on +leaving the café together, I had tried to accompany him for a while, +but, once in the streets, he always wished me good-bye, and I could +easily see that I was not wanted. I had also expressed a wish to be +allowed to call upon him, but had been given to understand that his time +was very limited just then, and feeling sure that the tragedy was the +cause of it all, I took good care not to disturb him.</p> + +<p>He never came to the café in the evening, so I then lounged there alone +smoking. Every now and then I dined with some of my fellow-students down +on the boulevards, but as true inhabitants of the Quartier Latin, it was +only seldom that we crossed the Seine. One evening, however, some one at +the dinner-table proposed that we should all drive down to the Variétés +to see Offenbach's <i>Les Brigands</i>, and somehow or another they carried +me off with them.</p> + +<p>I believe the whole pit was full of students. We were in tremendous +spirits, and applauded quite as vigorously as the <i>claque</i> which +occupied the row behind us. It seemed to me as though I were playing my +old friend from the Café de l'Empereur false, and I felt how he would +despise me had he seen me, and I made up my mind not to tell him +anything about it. But I could not help it, I roared with laughter the +whole time. The last words of a song were hardly over before the +<i>claque</i> broke out with a deafening applause, and we and the whole pit +followed their lead with right good will. And so when we collapsed and +could move our arms no longer, the <i>claque</i> had recuperated its +strength, and the brilliant farce was hailed once more with thundering +applause by the joyless spectators behind us, where a whole chorus of +poor devils shouted "bravo, bravo!" for next day's bread.</p> + +<p>Suddenly I was startled by a "bravo, bravo!" which came a little after +the rest. I turned rapidly round, and ran my eye over the <i>claque</i>, and +then to the astonishment of my comrades, I took my hat and slunk out of +the theatre.</p> + +<p>The joyous music rang in my ears the whole way home, but I felt that +tears were not far from my eyes that night.</p> + +<p>No, I never told Monsieur Alfredo that I had been to see <i>Les Brigands</i>. +I never alluded again in our conversations to Offenbach and Lecocq, and +never more did I try to accompany the old gentleman to the theatre.</p> + +<p>Next day, after we had finished our game of chess, I followed him home +at some little distance. I went to his house that same evening, and +whilst I stood there contemplating the card on Monsieur Alfredo's door, +the concierge made her appearance, and informed me that he never spent +the evenings at home. "Was I perhaps a pupil?" I answered in the +affirmative. I asked her if he had many pupils just then, and she +answered I was the first she had ever seen.</p> + +<p>It was towards the end of autumn that I communicated to Monsieur Alfredo +my irrevocable decision to throw medicine to the winds and to devote +myself to the stage, and to my great satisfaction he consented to become +my instructor in deportment and declamation. The lessons were given at +my rooms in the Hôtel de l'Avenir. The old fellow's method was a +peculiar one, and his theories on acting as bold as those he held on +chess. I listened with the utmost attention to all he said, and tried as +well as I could to learn the fundamental rules of deportment he saw fit +to teach me. After a while he acceded to my request to be allowed to try +myself in a rôle, and fully aware of my preference for tragedy, it was +decided that, under the immediate superintendence of the author +himself, I should get up one of the characters in Monsieur Alfredo's +last work, <i>Le Poignard</i>, a tragedy in five acts. Monsieur Alfredo +himself was the king and I was the marquis. I admit that my début was +not a happy one. I saw that the author was far from satisfied with me, +and I realised myself that my marquis was a dead failure. My next début +was in the rôle of the English lord in the five-act tragedy, <i>La +Vengeance</i>, but neither there were there any illusions possible as to my +success. I then tried my luck as the count in <i>Le Secret du Tombeau</i>, +but with a very doubtful result. I then sank down to a viscount, and +made superhuman efforts to keep up to the mark, but notwithstanding the +indulgent way in which Monsieur Alfredo pointed out my shortcomings, I +could not conceal from myself the fact that I was not fit to be a +viscount either.</p> + +<p>I began to have serious doubts as to my theatrical vocation, but +Monsieur Alfredo thought that the reason of my failure might be traced +to my unfamiliarity with the highest society, and my difficulty in +adapting myself to the sensations and thoughts of these high personages. +And he was right—it was anything but easy. All his heroes and heroines +were very sorry for themselves, not to say desperate, although as a rule +it was impossible for me to understand the reason of their being so. +Love and hatred glowed in every one's eyes. True that as a rule +everything went wrong for the lovers, but even if they got each other at +last, they did not seem to be a bit the more cheerful for that. I +remember, for instance, the third act of <i>Le Poignard</i>, where I (the +marquis), after having waded through blood, succeed in winning the lady +of my heart, who on her side has gone through fire and water to be mine. +The Archbishop marries us by moonlight, and we, who had not seen each +other for ten years, are left alone for a while in a bower of roses. We +had nothing on earth to be afraid of; no one was likely to disturb us, +as I had previously run my sword through every grown-up person in the +play, and I thought that I ought to be a little kind to the marchioness. +But Monsieur Alfredo never found my voice tragic enough during the few +brief moments of happiness he granted us. (We perished shortly +afterwards in an earthquake.)</p> + +<p>For the matter of that, those who escaped a violent death were not much +better off—they were carried off in any case in the flower of their +youth by sudden inexplicable ailments, which no amount of care could +contend against. At first I tried to save some of the victims, but +Monsieur Alfredo always looked very astonished when I suggested that +some one might be allowed to recover; and knowing his theory that it was +sentimentality that spoiled Victor Hugo as a dramatist, I ceased more +and more to interfere in the matter.</p> + +<p>After a few more abortive attempts to pose as a nobleman, I submitted to +Monsieur Alfredo my opinion that I might do better in a more humble +position. But here we were met by an unforeseen obstacle—Monsieur +Alfredo did not descend below viscounts. If by the exigencies of the +plot a lonely representative of the lower orders had to appear on the +scene, he had no sooner got a word out of his mouth before the author +would fling a purse at his head, and send him back into the wings with +an imperial wave of his shiny coat sleeve. Well, away with all false +pride! It was in these rôles I at last hit upon my true genre; it was +here I scored my only triumphs. Imperceptibly to the old man, I +disappeared more and more from the répertoire, would now and then cross +the stage and with a deep obeisance deliver a manuscript letter from +some crowned head, or would occasionally come to carry off a +corpse—that was all.</p> + +<p>So the autumn passed on, we had gone through one tragedy after another, +and still Monsieur Alfredo constantly turned up with a new manuscript +under his arm. I began to be afraid that the old man would wear himself +out with this fathomless authorship, and I tried in every possible way +to make him rest a little. This was, however, quite impossible. He now +came every single day to Hôtel de l'Avenir to his only pupil and +literary confidant. His guileless, childish face seemed to grow more and +more gentle, and more and more was I drawn towards the poor old +enthusiast with a sort of tender sympathy.</p> + +<p>And unquenchable and ever more unquenchable became his literary +bloodthirstiness. By Christmas-time his new tragedy was ready, and +Monsieur Alfredo himself looked upon it as his best work. The scene was +laid in Sicily at the foot of Mount Etna in the midst of burning +lava-streams. Not a soul survived the fifth act. I begged for the life +of a Newfoundland dog, who, with a dead heir in his mouth, had swum over +from the mainland, but Monsieur Alfredo was inexorable. The dog threw +himself into the crater of Etna in the last scene.</p> + +<p>But while the lava of Mount Etna was heating Monsieur Alfredo's world of +dreams, the winter snow was falling over Paris. All of us had long since +taken to our winter coats, but my poor professor was still wandering +about in his same old frock-coat, so shiny with constant brushing, so +thread-bare with the wear and tear of years. The nights became so cold, +and sadly did I follow in my thoughts the poor old man tramping home +every night across the streets of Paris after the theatre was over. +Many times was I very near broaching the delicate subject, but was +always deterred by the sensitive pride with which he sought to disguise +his poverty. Yet had I never seen him in such excellent spirits as he +was just then, he placed greater expectations than ever on his new +tragedy. Like all his previous plays it was written for the Théâtre +Français. The systematic ill-will with which Mons. Perrin<a name="FNanchor_21_21" id="FNanchor_21_21"></a><a href="#Footnote_21_21" class="fnanchor">[21]</a> had +refused to accept any work of his had certainly made him turn his +thoughts to the Odéon Theatre; but with due consideration to the +colossal proportions of his new drama, Monsieur Alfredo did not quite +see how to avoid offering it to the very first theatre in Paris.</p> + +<p>Maybe it seems to you that I ought to have pointed out to Monsieur +Alfredo the dangerous flights of his imagination, that I ought to have +tried to make him realise that his theatre was erected on quite another +planet than ours. I did nothing of the sort, and you would not have done +so either had you known him as I did, had you witnessed the anxiety with +which his kind eyes sought for my approval, how his sad old child-face +brightened up when he recited some passage which he expected would +especially dumbfound me—which alas! it seldom failed to do. But I had +arrived so far that I was quite incapable of spoiling his pleasure by a +single word of criticism. Silently I listened to tragedy after tragedy, +and there was no need to simulate being serious, for all my laughter +over his wild creations was silenced by the tragedy of reality, all my +criticism was disarmed by his utter helplessness—he did not even +possess an overcoat! The only audience the poor old man ever had was me, +why then shouldn't I bestow upon him a little approval, he whom life +had so unmercifully hissed?</p> + +<p>One afternoon he did not turn up at the Café de l'Empereur, and in vain +I waited for him before the chess-board the next day. I waited still +another day, but then, driven by uneasy forebodings, I went to look him +up towards evening. The concierge had not seen him go out, and there was +no answer to my knock at his door. I stood there for a moment or two +looking at the faded old visiting-card nailed on his door—</p> + +<div class="bbox"><center><br /> +<span class="smcap">Mr. ALFREDO</span><br /> +<br /> +<span class="smcap">Auteur Dramatique</span><br /> +<br /> +<span class="smcap">Professeur de Déclamation, de Maintien</span><br /> +<br /> +<span class="smcap">et de Mise en Scène.</span><br /><br /> +</center></div> + +<p>And then I quietly opened the door and went in.</p> + +<p>The old man lay on his bed delirious, not recognising the unbidden guest +who stood there, sadly looking round the empty garret cold as the +streets without, for there was no fireplace.</p> + +<p>It was sunny and bright next day, and it was easy to remove him to the +hospital close by—I was on the staff there for the matter of that. He +had pneumonia. They were all very kind to the old gentleman, both the +doctors and the students, and dear Soeur Philomène managed matters so +successfully that she got a private room for him. He continued delirious +the whole of that day and night, but towards morning he became conscious +and recognised me. He then insisted on returning at once to his own +quarters, but quieted down considerably on being told he was in a +private room, and that he was quite independent of all the other +patients. After some hesitation he inquired what he would have to pay, +and I answered him I did not think the hospital could charge him +anything, as the <i>Société des Auteurs Dramatiques</i> was entitled to a +free bed, and I doubted whether it would be the right thing to refuse to +avail himself of this privilege, as of course every one knew who he +was. Soeur Philomène, who stood behind his pillow, shook her finger +reprovingly at my little white lie, but I could well see by the +expression of her eyes that she forgave me. I had touched the poor old +author's most sensitive chord; with keenest interest he made me repeat +over and over again what I had said about the <i>Société des Auteurs +Dramatiques</i> and a faint smile of content lit up his faded old face when +at last I had succeeded in making him believe me. From that moment he +seemed quite pleased and satisfied with everything, and he did not +realise himself how rapidly he was sinking. According to his wish, a +little table with writing materials had been placed beside his bed, but +he had not yet tried to write anything.</p> + +<p>The night had been worse than usual, and during the morning round I +noticed that Soeur Philomène had hung a little crucifix at the head of +his bed. He lay there quite silent the whole day, once only when he was +given his broth he asked for the name of the most rapid poison, and +Soeur Philomène thought it was prussic acid.</p> + +<p>Towards evening he became more feverish, and his eyes began to be +restless. He begged me to sit down beside him, and after swearing me +over to secrecy he unveiled to me the plot of his new tragedy where the +rival gives prussic acid to the bride and bridegroom during the wedding +ceremony. He spoke rapidly and cheerfully, and with a triumphant glance +he asked me whether I thought the Théâtre Français would dare to reject +him this time, and I answered that I did not believe it would dare to do +so. The work was to proceed with great speed, the first act was to be +ready next morning, and in a week's time at the very latest he intended +to send in the manuscript for perusal.</p> + +<p>He became more and more delirious, and he did not pay any more attention +to my answers. His eye still rested on mine, but his horizon widened +more and more, for the barriers of this world began to fall away. His +speech became more and more rapid, and I could no longer follow his +staggering thought. But his face still expressed what his failing +perception could no longer form into words, and with deep emotion I +witnessed death bestow on him the joy that life had denied him.</p> + +<p>He seemed to listen. There flew a light over his pale features, his eye +sparkled, and with head erect the old man sat up in bed. He shook away +his gray curls, and a shimmer of triumph fell over his brow. With his +hand on his heart the dying author made a low bow, for in the silence of +the falling night he heard the echo of his life's fondest dream; he +heard the Théâtre Français jubilant with applause!</p> + +<p>And slowly the curtain sank upon the old author's last tragedy.</p> + + +<br /><br /><br /><br /> +<h2><a name="MONT_BLANC" id="MONT_BLANC"></a>MONT BLANC</h2> + +<h3>KING OF THE MOUNTAINS</h3> + +<div class="poem2"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Mont Blanc is the monarch of mountains;</span> +<span class="i2">They crown'd him long ago</span> +<span class="i0">On a throne of rocks, in a robe of clouds,</span> +<span class="i2">With a diadem of snow.</span> +<span class="i8"><span class="smcap">Byron.</span></span> +</div></div> + +<div class="blockquot"><p><i>Note.</i>—The following paper may perhaps be considered rather +too whimsical by those unacquainted with a little adventure I +had while descending Mont Blanc, an adventure which began in an +avalanche and ended happily in a crevasse. The article dances +away on the rope of a single metaphor, and dances over +precipices. But the sentiment reflected in the word-picture of +the title impresses me still so strongly, so much do I still +admire the anger of the mighty snow-mountain, that I dare not +approach it with the familiarity of a reporter. I see that here +and there I have tried to smile—that is because of the pain in +my frozen foot. When I make fun of Mont Blanc I am reminded of +an antique bas-relief once seen in Rome, representing a little +Satyr, who, a look of blank astonishment on his face, measures +the toe of a sleeping Polyphemus.</p></div> + +<p>The ascent of Mont Blanc is easy.</p> + +<p>No one attempts the <i>Weisshorn</i>, <i>Dent Blanche</i>, or the <i>Matterhorn</i> +unless his eye be calm and his foot sure, but we all know that Tartarin +of Tarascon went up Mont Blanc—although he never arrived at the top.</p> + +<p>They are indomitable revolutionists, these other mountain giants, +freedom's untamed heroes who refuse to be subjugated save by the sun +alone, haughty lords of the Alps who know themselves to be princes of +the blood.</p> + +<p>But Mont Blanc is the crowned king of the Alps. There was a time when he +was sullen and cruel, but he has grown kinder-hearted in his old age, +and now, like a venerable patriarch, he sits there, the white-haired +Charlemagne, looking out in calm majesty over his three kingdoms.</p> + +<p>Good-humouredly he suffers the Lilliputians to crawl up the +marble-bright steps that lead into his citadel, and with royal +hospitality he allows them to visit his ice-shining castle.</p> + +<p>But when the summer day begins to darken into autumn, he goes to sleep +in his white state bed under a canopy of clouds. And then he does not +like to be disturbed, the old king.</p> + +<p>No, he does not like to be disturbed; I knew it well. I had addressed +myself to his retainers and had been told that it was too late for an +audience, that the king did not receive at this time. I had come from +afar, my knapsack on my back, my head full of wonderful stories about +the far-famed palace, and longing to see the proud old mountain-king.</p> + +<p>Somewhat disconcerted I hung for a while about the castle gates, +muttering socialistic sentences to myself. I had taken in radical +newspapers all the summer and was not to be treated in that off-hand +way. It is the lot of the great to be subjected to the gaze of +inquisitive eyes, and I can but be turned away, thought I to myself, and +up I went with two followers. Perhaps it was a trifle unceremonious on +my part, but I am not used to the court etiquette of conventionality.</p> + +<p>Summer accompanied me a little way; at first she climbed the slopes with +ease, planting her foot firmly in the clefts, but it was not difficult +to see that she, the fair daughter of the valley, did not look forward +to the royal visit as ardently as I did. I had got myself up in +court-dress to pay my respects to the ice-gray monarch, in sharp-spiked +mountain shoes, snow gaiters, and steel-pointed pilgrim staff, but she +was in no wise equipped to meet the requirements of such a journey, poor +little one! The wind pulled and tugged at her leaf-woven petticoat, and +sharp stones cut her green velvet shoes adorned with bows of harebell +and forget-me-not. But she did not give in so easily; she bound her poor +feet with soft moss; she patched her petticoat with bracken and juniper, +and although her fingers were stiff-frozen, neatly and gracefully she +managed to weave some tiny heather-bells between.</p> + +<p>And thus we reached the summit of a rock, and on the edge thereof sat +Cerberus, the fierce sentinel of the castle, barking and howling and +shaking his arctic fur till great white tufts flew in the air around. I +have never been afraid of bad-tempered dogs and hailed old Boreas by his +name and asked him in our own language if he did not recognise me, he, +the guardian of my childhood's home. And sure enough he rushed at me +full speed! He laid his paws upon my breast with such force that he +nearly knocked me backward over the cliff, and licked my face with his +icy tongue till I could hardly breathe. But suddenly, in the midst of +his friendly demonstrations, he bit my nose, and, what is more, he +nearly bit it off—that is what I have always said, one cannot be too +careful where strange dogs are concerned! If any one is a lover of dogs +I am, but I did not know how to take that, and hurried on as quickly as +possible. He evidently thought he belonged to the party, and followed us +growling like the brute that he was. But Summer took fright and said she +dared not go any farther, and so we took leave of each other. +Light-footed and joyous she returned to the green of the alpine meadows, +and I, drawing my coat closer round me, went on my way. Some firs also +took courage, and, gripping the rugged granite with sinewy arms, they +followed us up the rock.</p> + +<p>Steeper and steeper became the track, fewer and fewer the green-clad +bodyguard which advanced with me. And soon the last of them halted +beneath the shelter of a jutting rock. I asked them if they would not +come a little farther, but they shook their white heads and bade me +farewell. Deeper and deeper penetrated the chill of death into the +mountain's veins; slower and slower beat the heart of Nature; higher +and higher went my path. And there she stood, the last outpost of +Summer, the courageous little child-flower of the mountain heights, +beautiful as her name, <i>Edelweiss</i>! She stood there quite alone with her +feet in the snow; no living soul had she to bear her company, but she +was just as neat for all that in her gray little woollen gown edged with +frost pearls, and just as frankly for all that did she look up at the +sun. She also had her part to play, and it was not for me to do her any +harm. I glanced at her a moment and thought how pretty she was, although +so simply dressed in her homespun clothes, poor little half-frozen +Cinderella amongst her summer-fair sisters of the valley.</p> + +<p>I stood now on the frontier of the kingdom of Eternal Winter, and firm +of foot I crossed the moat of frozen glacier-waves which surrounded the +citadel of the ice-monarch. There reigned a desolate repose over the +sleeping palace, and I felt that I was drawing nigh unto a king. I +wandered through deserted castle-halls on whose dazzling white carpets +no human foot had ever trod, beneath crystal-glittering temple vaults +through which the organ thundered like the roar of a subterranean river, +between tall colonnades whose cloud-hidden capitals supported the +firmament.</p> + +<p>So I gained the highest tower of the castle. The winding staircase +leading thereunto was gone, but with ice-axe and rope we assaulted the +Royal Eagle's nest.</p> + +<p>And I stood face to face with the mountain-king. Upon the giant's +forehead sat the beaming diadem of the sun, and an unspeakable splendour +of purple and gold fell over his royal mantle. No echo from the valleys +disturbed his proud repose; mournful in isolated peace he sat on high +surveying his mute kingdom. Silent stood the bodyguard about his throne, +the tall grenadiers with steel-glinting ice armour upon their granite +breasts and cloud-crested helmets upon their snow-white heads. I knew +the weather-beaten features of more than one of them full well, and +reverently I greeted the giants by name, <i>Schreckhorn</i>, <i>Wetterhorn</i>, +<i>Finsteraarhorn</i>, <i>Monte Rosa</i>, <i>Monte Viso</i>, and her, the virgin +warrior with lowered vizor over her beautiful face immaculate as Diana +in her snow-white garb, <i>Die Jungfrau</i>! And my eye dwelt long upon the +proud combatant yonder, Achilles-like in his god-forged armour purpled +with blood, the <i>Matterhorn</i>!</p> + +<p>But suddenly the king's face darkened and a sombre cloud fell over his +forehead. He took off his crown, and his white curls flew in the wind, +and without paying the slightest attention to us he put on his +night-cap.<a name="FNanchor_22_22" id="FNanchor_22_22"></a><a href="#Footnote_22_22" class="fnanchor">[22]</a> And we understood that the audience was ended.</p> + +<p>But he must be a good sleeper indeed if he be able to rest in such a +noise as this, thought we, for around us there arose a fearful tumult. +The storm raged over our heads till we thought the roof of the castle +would fall in upon us, and Boreas, like a hungry wolf, howled at our +heels. Hastily we retraced our steps through the darkening palace; +through deserted courtyards where spirit hands swept every trace of path +away; through vast state halls, gloomy as chambers of death in their +white draperies; through vaults adown which the organ stormed as on the +Day of Judgment.</p> + +<p>But there was something wrong with these old castle-halls—I began to +think they were haunted. There were groans and shrieks; a shrill and +scornful laugh rang suddenly through the air, and beside us flew long +shadows swathed in white—it was not easy to make out what they were; +mountain-wraiths, I suppose.</p> + +<p>We then reached a big plain called "<i>le grand plateau</i>," but we had +hardly got halfway across it before a cannon shot rent the skies. I +looked up to see the white smoke dancing down the Mont Maudit and a +whole mountain of projectiles bearing down upon us with the speed of an +avalanche—<i>Sapristi!</i> On we went. Then there came a crash as though the +thunder had burst over our heads, the ground gaped under our feet, and I +fell into Hades. Everything became silent and the chill of death fell +over me.</p> + +<p>But the instinct of self-preservation roused me, and half awake I sat up +in the coffin and looked around. At the same moment one of my companions +also crept out of his shroud, and by the help of the ice-axe we forced +open the lid that had already been screwed down over our third +companion. And to our astonishment we discovered that we were not dead +at all. We sat imprisoned in a subterranean dungeon waiting for trial, +but we all agreed that we were in the cell of the condemned. Daylight +fell through a narrow rift over our heads, and beside us yawned a great +chasm—it was like the Mamertine prison in Rome. We had time to meditate +upon a good many things. To complain was useless; to protest against our +fate was useless too; all we could do was to hope that the judicial +formalities might be conducted as quickly as possible—<i>der Tod ist +nichts, aber das Sterben ist eine schändliche Erfindung!</i><a name="FNanchor_23_23" id="FNanchor_23_23"></a><a href="#Footnote_23_23" class="fnanchor">[23]</a></p> + +<p>Now and then a white wraith peeped through the opening and with mocking +laugh threw down great heaps of snow, then swept away over our heads. +"Are you still the lords of the earth, you miserable little human +microbes?" they howled until the vault shook again. We clenched our +teeth and said nothing. At last I got quite angry and shouted back to +them that they were nothing but microbes themselves. I glanced at my +companions and all three of us made a sort of grimace to show how +excellent we thought the joke, but it did not come to much, for the +muscles of laughter had been paralysed in our blue faces. But the +wraiths seemed taken aback all the same, and, summoning up all my +courage, I went on calling out that it was useless to give themselves +such airs, that there was something higher than Mont Blanc itself, and I +pointed towards a star which just then glanced down at us poor devils +through the gray fog bars of the opening. I had hardly got the words out +of my mouth before the wraiths vanished one and all, and by the light of +the brightening evening we saw that they had been transformed into huge +blocks of ice, which, impelled by the avalanche, had stopped short at +the very edge of the crevasse—witchcraft, nothing but witchcraft! But +it was not witchcraft that got us out that time. It was something else +that helped us—that which is higher than Mont Blanc.</p> + + +<br /><br /><br /><br /> +<h2><a name="RAFFAELLA" id="RAFFAELLA"></a>RAFFAELLA</h2> + + +<p>The picture was considered one of the very best in the whole Salon, and +the young painter's name was on every one's lips. It was always +surrounded by a group of admirers, fascinated by its beauty. She lay +there on a couch of purple, and around her loveliness there fell as it +were a shimmer from life's May-sun. Refined art-critics had settled her +age to be at most sixteen. There was still something of the enchanting +grace of the child in her slender limbs, and it was as if a veil of +innocence protected her.</p> + +<p>Who was she, the fair sleeper, the shaping of whose features was so +noble, the harmony of whose limbs was so perfect? Was it true, what +rumour whispered, that the original of the dazzling picture bore one of +the greatest names of France, that a high-born beauty of Faubourg St. +Germain had, unknown to the man, allowed the artist to behold the ideal +he had sought for but never found? Who was she?</p> + +<p>The doctor had stood there for a while listening to the murmur of praise +which bore witness to the young painter's triumph, and slowly making his +way through the fashionable crowd he approached the exit. He stopped +there for a moment or two watching one carriage after another roll down +the Champs Elysées, and then he wandered away across Place de la +Concorde and entered the Boulevard St. Germain. The clock struck seven +as he passed St. Germain des Prés and he hastened his steps, for he had +a long way still to go. He turned into one of the small streets near the +Jardin des Plantes, and it soon seemed as if he had left Paris behind +him. The streets began to darken, and narrowed into lanes, the great +shops shrank into small booths, and the cafés became pot-houses. Fine +coats became more and more rare, and blouses more numerous. It was +nearly eight o'clock, just theatre time down on the brilliant +boulevards, and up here groups of workmen wandered home after the day's +toil. They looked tired and heavy-hearted, but the work was hard, +already by six in the morning the bell was rung in the manufactories and +workshops, and many of them had had an hour's walk to come there. Here +and there stood a ragged figure with outstretched hand, he carried no +inscription on his breast telling how he became blind, he did not recite +one word of the story of his misery—he did not need to do that here, +for those that gave him a sou were poor themselves, and most of them had +known what it meant to be hungry.</p> + +<p>The alleys became dirtier and dirtier, and heaps of sweepings and refuse +were left in the filthy gutters; it did not matter so much up here where +only poor people lived.</p> + +<p>The doctor entered an old tumble-down house, and groped his way up the +slippery dark stairs as high as he could go. An old woman met him at the +door—he was expected. "<i>Zitto, zitto!</i>" (hush, hush), said the old +woman, with her fingers on her lips; "she sleeps." And in a whisper <i>la +nonna</i> (the grandmother) reported how things had been going on since +yesterday. Raffaella had not been delirious in the night, she had lain +quite still and calm the whole day, only now and then she had asked to +see the child, and a short while ago she had fallen asleep with the +little one in her arms. Did <i>il signor Dottore</i> wish to wake her up? No, +that he would not do. He sat himself down in silence beside the old +woman on the bench. They were very good friends these two, and he knew +well the sad story of the family.</p> + +<p>They were from St. Germano, the village up amongst the mountains half +way between Rome and Naples, whence most of the Italian models came. +They had arrived in Paris barely two years ago with a number of men and +women from their neighbourhood. Raffaella's mother had caught <i>la +febbre</i> and died at Hôtel Dieu a couple of months after their arrival, +and the old woman and the grandchild had had to look after themselves +alone in the foreign city.</p> + +<p>And Raffaella had become a model like the others.</p> + +<p>And a young artist painted her picture. He painted her beautiful girlish +head, he painted her young bosom. And then fell her poor clothes, and he +painted her maiden loveliness in its budding spring, in the innocent +peace of the sleeping senses. She was the butterfly-winged Psyche, whose +lips Eros has not yet kissed; she was Diana's nymph who, tired after +hunting, unfastens her chiton and, unseen by mortal eyes, bathes her +maiden limbs in the hidden forest lake; she was the fair Dryad of the +grove who falls asleep on her bed of flowers.</p> + +<p>His last picture was ready. Fame entered the young artist's studio, and +a ruined child went out from it.</p> + +<p>They separated like good friends, he wrote down her address with a piece +of charcoal on the wall, and she went to pose to another painter. So she +went from studio to studio, and her innocence protected her no longer.</p> + +<p>One day the old grandmother stood humbly at the door of the fashionable +studio, and told between her sobs that Raffaella was about to become a +mother. Ah yes! he remembered her well, the beautiful girl, and he put +some pieces of gold in the old woman's hand and promised to try to do +something for her. And he kept his word. The same evening he proposed to +his comrades to make a collection for Raffaella's child, and he assumed +that there was no one who had a right to refuse. There was no one who +had the right to refuse. They all gave what they could, some more and +some less, and more than one emptied his purse into the hat which went +round for Raffaella's child. They all thought it was such a pity for +her, the beautiful girl, to have had such bad luck. They wondered what +would become of her, she might of course continue to be a model, but +never would she be the same as before. The sculptors all agreed that the +beautiful lines of the hip could never stand the trial, and the painters +knew well that the exquisite delicacy of her colouring was lost for +ever. The child would of course be put out to nurse in the country, and +the money collected was enough to pay for a whole year. And it was not a +bad idea either to beg their friend, that foreign doctor, who was so +fond of Italians, to give an eye to Raffaella, he might perhaps be +useful in many future contingencies.</p> + +<p>And the doctor, who was so fond of Italians, had often been to see her +of late. Raffaella had been so ill, so ill, she had been delirious for +days and nights, and this was the first quiet sleep she had had for a +long time.</p> + +<p>No, the doctor certainly did not wish to wake her up; he sat there in +silence beside the old grandmother, deep in thought. He was thinking of +Raffaella's story. It was not new to him, that story, the Italian poor +quarter had more than once told it him, and he had often enough read it +in books. It seemed to him that what he saw in life was far simpler and +far sadder than what he read in books. Nor was there in Raffaella's +story anything very unusual or very sensational, no great display of +feeling either of sorrow or despair, no accusations, no threat for +vengeance, no attempt at suicide. Everything had gone so simply in such +everyday fashion. It was not with head erect and flaming eyes that the +old grandmother had stood before him who was guilty of the child's +fall, but in humble resignation she had stopped at the door and sobbed +out their misery, and when she left she had prayed the Madonna to reward +him for his charity. The poor old woman had her reasons for this—she +could not carry her head erect, for life had long since bent her neck +under the yoke of daily toil; her eyes could not flame with menace, for +they had too often had to beg for bread. She knew not how to accuse, for +she herself had been condemned unheard to oppression; she knew not how +to demand justice, for life had meant for her one long endurance of +wrongs. Her path had lain through darkness and misery, she had seen so +little of life's sunlight, and her thoughts had grown so dim under her +furrowed brow. She was dull, dull as an old worn-out beast of burden.</p> + +<p>And the seducer, he was perhaps after all not more of a blackguard than +many others. He had done what he could to atone for a fault, which from +his point of view was hardly to be considered so very great, he had +provided for a whole year for a child which he said was none of +his—what could he do more? He had asked the doctor if he knew of any +virtuous models, and the doctor had answered him, "No," for neither did +he know of any virtuous models.</p> + +<p>And Raffaella had borne her degradation as she had borne her poverty, +without bitterness and without despair; she wept sometimes, but she +accused no one, neither herself nor him who had injured her. She was +resigned. Authors believe that it is so easy to jump into the Seine or +to take a dose of laudanum, but it is very difficult. Raffaella was a +daughter of the people, no culture had entered into her thought-world, +either with its light or its shadow, she was far too natural even to +think of such a thing.</p> + +<p>He who was cultured had brought forward the question of sending the +child into the country or placing it in the <i>Enfants trouvés</i> (foundling +hospital), and she who was uncultured had known of no other answer than +to wind her arms still closer round her child's neck. And <i>la nonna</i> +(the old grandmother), who scrubbed steps and carried coals all day, and +having at last lulled the child to rest in the evening, dead-tired went +to sleep with half-shut eyes and a string round her wrist, so as now and +then to rock the little one's cradle; neither could she understand that +it would be any relief if "<i>la piccerella</i>" were to be sent away.</p> + +<p>The light fell on the squalid bed, and the doctor looked at his patient. +Yes! it was indeed very like her, he certainly was a clever artist that +young painter! Her face was only a little paler now, that painful shadow +over the forehead was probably not to be seen in the bright studio +where the picture was painted, those dark rings round her eyes very +likely were not suitable for the Salon. But the same perfection of form +in every feature, the same noble shape of the head, the same childishly +soft rounding of the cheek, the same curly locks round the beautiful +brow; yes, rumour spoke true, she bore the mark of nobility on her +forehead, not that of Faubourg St. Germain, but that of Hellas, she bore +the features of the Venus of Milo.</p> + +<p>It was quite still up there in the dim little garret. The doctor looked +at the young mother who slept so peacefully with her child in her arms, +he looked at the old woman who sat by his side fingering her rosary. +With foreboding sadness he looked into the future which awaited these +three, and sorrowfully his thoughts wandered along the way which lay +before his poor friends.</p> + +<p>Ah yes, Raffaella soon got well, for she was healthy with Nature's +youth. Model she never became again, for she could not leave her child. +She did not marry, for her people do not forgive one who has had a child +by a <i>Signore</i>. With the baby at her breast she wandered about in search +of work, any work whatever. Her demands were so small, but her chances +were still smaller. She found no work. The old woman still held out for +a time, then she broke down and Raffaella had to provide food for three +mouths. The last savings were gone, and the Sunday clothes were at the +pawn-shop. Public charity did not help her, for she was a foreigner, and +private charity never came near Raffaella. She had to choose between +want or going on the streets. Her child lived and she chose want. The +world did not reward her for her choice, for virtue hungers and freezes +in the poor quarters of Paris. And she ended like so many others by +<i>fare la Scopa</i>.<a name="FNanchor_24_24" id="FNanchor_24_24"></a><a href="#Footnote_24_24" class="fnanchor">[24]</a> Pale and emaciated sat the child on <i>la nonna's</i> +knee, and with low bent back Raffaella swept the streets where pleasure +and luxury went by. Poverty had effaced her beauty, she bore the +features of want and hardship. Sorrow had furrowed her brow, but the +stamp of nobility was still there. Hats off for virtue in rags! It is +greater than the virtue of Faubourg St. Germain!</p> + +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> + +<p>Perhaps a clever writer could make a nice little sketch out of +Raffaella's story; it is, however, as I said before, neither a very +original nor a very exciting one, it is quite commonplace. But I can +give you a subject for another little sketch; it is that doctor who is +so fond of Italians who has hit upon it. He has been thinking it over +for many years, but he never gets further than thinking. Write a story +about female models and dedicate it to artists! Write it without lies +and without sentimentality. Write it without exaggeration, for it needs +none; without severity, for we all have need of forbearance. Tell them, +the artists, how much we all like them, the light-hearted good-natured +comrades, tell them how proud we are of them, the happy interpreters of +our longing for beauty. But ask them why they so despise their models, +ask them if they know what becomes of the originals of their female +pictures!</p> + +<p>They know it well.</p> + +<p>If they answer you that they are young, that their temptations are +greater than those of any others, then reflect if you yourself have the +right to say any more to them. But if they answer you that the fault +lies with the models, then tell them to their faces that they lie. Then +tell them what road the greater part of the women models take—the +statistics are there and they cannot be contradicted. We know well that +many of these models have themselves to blame for their misfortunes, but +by far the greater part of them owe their fall to the misleading of an +artist.</p> + +<p>And look here! Is he then quite wrong, that doctor who thinks that the +artist stands towards his woman model in the same position as the +physician towards his woman patient? Society demands, and is right in +demanding, a passionless eye from the physician, and between the +physician's respect for his profession and the temptation of the man, +honour has no choice. The present day ranks art higher than science, why +then is not the artist's respect for his profession great enough to +protect a woman model! Why are there no virtuous models? Is not the +model the unknown collaborator in the artist's creation, is she not, +even she, although unconsciously a humble servant in the temple of art, +in that temple where the ancients placed the statue of the chaste Pallas +Athene?</p> + +<p>Yes, a clever writer may have a good deal more to say about this, and he +may also make use of that doctor's meditations if he thinks there is any +meaning in them, they have at least the merit of being founded upon +experience, experience of the art world of Paris as well as that of +Rome.<a name="FNanchor_25_25" id="FNanchor_25_25"></a><a href="#Footnote_25_25" class="fnanchor">[25]</a></p> + +<p>But he must not forget that it is the spoiled children of our day that +he is daring to blame. Should his article be to the point he may be sure +he will be very severely censured by them; let him take it as praise for +<i>il n'y a que la vérité qui blesse</i>! And besides, let him remember that +the world's blame is as little worth caring about as its praise.</p> + + +<br /><br /><br /><br /> +<h2><a name="THE_DOGS_IN_CAPRI" id="THE_DOGS_IN_CAPRI"></a>THE DOGS IN CAPRI</h2> + +<h3>AN INTERIOR</h3> + + +<p>Like the ancient Romans, the Capri dogs devote the greater part of their +day to public life. The Piazza is their Forum, and it is there they +write their history. When Don Antonio opens the doors of his osteria, +and Don Nicolino, barber and bleeder, steps out of his "Salone," Capri +begins a new day. From all sides the dogs then come gravely walking +forth—the doctor's, the tobacconist's, the secretary's, Don +Archangelo's, Don Pietro's, etc. etc., and, after a greeting in +accordance with nature's prescribed ceremonial, they seat themselves +upon the Piazza to meditate. Don Antonio places a couple of chairs in +front of his café, and whilst some of them accept the invitation to lean +against them, others prefer the steps leading up to the Church, or that +comfortable corner by the Campanile, to whose clock generations have +listened with ever-increasing astonishment where, indomitable as the +sun, it presses forward on its own path, but alas! not that of the sun.</p> + +<p>After a while the dogs from Hotel Pagano make their appearance. They get +up later than the others, for they eat a terribly solid dinner. They all +descend from the venerable old "Timberio"<a name="FNanchor_26_26" id="FNanchor_26_26"></a><a href="#Footnote_26_26" class="fnanchor">[26]</a> Pagano, who walks a little +behind the rest of his family. Timberio has a cataract in one eye, but +the other eye looks out upon life with immovable calm. The Pagano +dog-family has always ranked amongst the very first in Capri, and now, +since one of their masters, Manfredo, was made Sindaco, they have still +further accentuated that reserved bearing which they always understood +how to maintain towards the lower orders. They usually form a "circle" +of themselves and some of the Liberal dogs in the Municipal Portico. The +Conservative dogs, who were beaten at the last election when the Liberal +candidate, Manfredo Pagano, became Sindaco, cluster together in a +hostile minority on the other side of the Piazza by the steps leading up +to the Church. Now and then they take a look inside the Church, and seat +themselves down by the door with the greatest decorum, like humble +publicans, whilst the Mass is said in the chancel or the <i>Figlie di +Maria</i> intone the Litany with half-singing voices.</p> + +<p>About ten o'clock appear Il Cacciatore's<a name="FNanchor_27_27" id="FNanchor_27_27"></a><a href="#Footnote_27_27" class="fnanchor">[27]</a> two dogs, mother and son. +They go without hesitation straight into Don Antonio's wineshop. They +were born upon the island, but they have received an English education, +and they well know the taste of a leg of mutton or a piece of roast +beef. Don Antonio's dogs have also a certain idea of these things. After +several generations a vague Anglicism still survives amongst them from +the time when Don Antonio was steward on board an English steamboat, and +it is with a visible pride that they say to their Capri colleagues their +"Bow-wow-wow—how do you do, sir?" as any stranger approaches their +osteria. The German dogs never enter this place; in spite of all +Bismarck's efforts to win Don Antonio over to the triple alliance, they +are not well looked upon there, their permanent headquarters are still +at Morgano's "Zum Hiddigeigei," whence one can hear them barking and +yelping till late at night.</p> + +<p>The morning passes in calm <i>dolce far niente</i> as a preparation for the +exertions of the day. Seldom has anything happened since they met here +yesterday, seldom is there the slightest indication that the day which +now begins will bring in its train any change in the imperturbable +harmony of their <i>status quo</i>. An Arcadian peace reigns over their whole +being, a contemplative calm is stamped upon their faces. And yet this +peace hovers over a volcano, like the summer which brightens the slopes +of Vesuvius away on the far horizon. Now and then the thunder growls +from the depths of Timberio Pagano's broad breast when Hotel Quisisana's +shaggy black guardian goes too near him. Seated on each side of the +<i>farmacia</i> door the two doctors' four-footed assistants stick out their +tongues at each other on the sly, and often enough do the dogs of Don +Nicolino and Don Chichillo (the new barber) fall upon each other, so +that tufts of hair fly around. Animosity, however, soon sinks down +again, and, calm as the rippling waves against the old Emperor's bath +palace below, the hours glide away in rhythmical monotony.</p> + +<p>They watch the girls as they stride past with mighty <i>Tufa</i>-stones on +their well-poised heads, like the Caryatides of the Erechtheum; they +watch the Marina fishermen bringing up for sale in baskets the night's +haul of golden <i>Triglie</i> and great <i>Scurmi</i>, of bright-coloured mussels +from some rocky reef, or perhaps a coral-spun old Roman amphora dragged +up by the deep <i>Palamido</i> nets from out of its thousand-years-old +hiding-place at the bottom of the sea.</p> + +<p>Sometimes the longing for activity awakes, and they slowly cross the +Piazza to the corner of the Anacapri road to gaze dreamily upon the +bustling life in front of the stables, where cavalcades of <i>forestieri</i> +are waiting impatiently whilst saddles are laid upon the donkeys' +bleeding backs, and rusty bits are stuffed into their sore mouths. +<i>Aaaaah! Aaaaah! Avanti!!</i> Off, little donkeys, for Monte Solaro, one +hour and a half's stiff climbing with the happy tourists! Yes, the road +is beautiful, winding up along the side of the mountain, clad with +myrtle and broom. The view widens more and more—<i>Aaaaaah! Aaaaaaaah!!</i> +one more climb, and the vineyards and olive woods lie deep under your +feet, and over your head rise steep cliffs as wild in their mighty +desolation as the Via Mala of the Alps; and Barbarossa's half-crumbling +castle riveted fast upon the edge of the precipice. Beyond gleams the +gulf girdled by the immortal beauty of the shore, and from Posilipo's +pine-crowned cape, island after island floats away towards the blue +distance of the Mediterranean—<i>wunderbar! kolossal!!</i></p> + +<p>Under the saddle it burns like fire, and the mouth is so sore with the +incessant tugging at the heavy bridle; but courage, little donkey! up +above upon the heights lives Padre Anselmo in his hermit chapel, and he +has good wine for thirsty throats!</p> + +<p>Other dogs who do not get so far as the donkey-stand lean thoughtfully +against the parapet of the Piazza, where some lounging sailors look out +over the gulf. The eyes wander far over the gleaming line of Naples, and +the mighty silhouette of Vesuvius, or follow absently the direction of +some outstretched hand pointing towards Capo Sorrento, whence can be +seen the steamboat on its way to Capri. And here come the two blind old +men, Fenocchio and Giovanni, groping their way across the Piazza to +their usual corner at the edge of the path, where the hum of thousands +of gay tourists has rustled by them, where they have sat for so many +years with their old fisher-caps in outstretched hands, and their vacant +eyes staring into their eternal night of gleaming sunshine: "<i>Date u +soldo Eccellenza al povero cieco! La Madonna vi accompagna!</i>"</p> + +<p>Up on the Piazza the dogs are beginning to awake, and in scattered +groups they wander across to the parapet to stare at the steamboat which +glides past in the blue water on its way to the Grotto. It is time to +start down to the Marina to greet the arriving strangers. Quisisana's, +Pagano's, and Hôtel de France's dogs solemnly escort their respective +porters to the arched entrance of the Piazza with its Bourbon +coat-of-arms still enthroned above it. Small ready-saddled donkeys also +clatter patiently down the old stairway to the Marina, and with loud +cracks of the whip Felicello's coachmen rattle down the new +carriage-road. From the Piazza above, they watch the steamer anchoring +outside the harbour, and the small boats landing the passengers. A faint +interest lights up the passive faces of the lookers-on when the first +strangers reach the Piazza. But alas! always the same invariable types, +always the same colossal matron on the same slender little donkey, +always the same correct "misses" in Felicello's landau, always the same +fiery-red noisy Germans, wrangling over prices with the girls who have +dragged their boxes up the heights to the town. Seldom are there any +dogs amongst the arrivals, seldom does any occasion whatever arise for +interference in one way or another—passivity, nothing but passivity!</p> + +<p>Now the hotel bells ring for luncheon, and they one and all wander home. +The processes of digestion are carried out, according to correct +physiological laws undisturbed by any brain-work, and the afternoon is +passed in a siesta on some loggia, whilst the sun's rays slowly climb +the Anacapri cliff, and long shadows begin to glide down Monte Solaro's +slopes towards the town. The air is cool and refreshing, and they +prepare to resume public business on the Piazza. The second event of the +day is about to happen. The post arrives. Don Peppino (post-master) +solemnly shuts his office-door, and the loiterers wait with interest +whilst the post-bag is being opened inside. Always the same +disappointment—no letters for them, all the letters and newspapers are +for the strangers in the hotels! Sometimes they get hold of a <i>Corriere +di Napoli</i> or a <i>Pungolo</i>, and then they disappear into some corner by +themselves to make people believe that they can read; but after they +have devoured the whole newspaper they are none the wiser for it. So +they become drowsy again and wander a few times round the Piazza, past +Don Antonio's <i>osteria</i> with the faded photographs and dried-up biscuits +in the window, and a few unconscious philosophers meditating inside; +past Il Salone, where the flies keep watch over Don Nicolino's dreams; +past La Farmacia, where the morphia of idleness soothes Don Petruccio's +ideas to rest; past the stables where the donkeys are pushed into their +dark holes after the strangers have returned from their expedition. They +look out over the gulf where Ischia blushes in fading sunlight, while +dark-blue twilight falls around Vesuvius. The day's session draws to an +end and the Piazza is becoming deserted. Up in the Campanile there +suddenly breaks out a terrible row amongst the cogs and wheels, and at +last the old machinery loses its temper altogether, and, getting hold of +a rusty hammer, begins to beat with all its might on some unwilling +bells: "<i>Ventiquattro ore</i>," yawns Don Nicolino, shutting up his Salone; +"<i>Ventiquattro ore</i>," say the flies, and go to sleep amongst the brushes +and combs; "<i>Ventiquattro ore</i>," say the dogs, and go home with the +feeling of having performed their duty to gather strength for the next +day's toils by twelve or fourteen hours' dreamless sleep.</p> + +<p>Then the church bells ring out the Ave Maria, and the day sinks into the +sea.</p> + +<p>So passes day after day, each like the other, as are the beads of the +rosaries which glide between the fingers of the <i>Figlie di Maria</i> inside +the Church. Each morning collects the citizens for social duty on the +Piazza—each evening the campanile exhorts them to go to rest.</p> + +<p>Under the walls of the houses the shadows begin to grow smaller and +smaller, and the paving-stones of the Piazza get hotter and hotter in +the sun-bath. Uneasy dreams begin to disturb the peace of the siesta, +and Capri is seized with an irresistible desire to scratch itself. Don +Antonio spreads the awning before his wineshop, and the questions of the +day are oftener and oftener dealt with under its protecting shade. They +linger later on the Piazza in the warm evenings, and with nose in the +air they sit for long hours on the parapet looking out over the gulf +towards Vesuvius, whose mighty smoke-cloud slowly spreads over the +mainland—the wind is south, all is as it should be! And, with +apprehensive thoughts of fatigues to come, they troop home to their +much-needed repose.</p> + +<p>The Piazza is quite empty, now and then a short bark is heard from some +wineshop, or a howling "<i>Potz Donner Wetter!</i>" from Hiddigeigei's +beer-house, then everything is still, and only the old watchman in the +Campanile counts over the hours of the night in a sonorous brazen voice +to keep himself awake. Still for a while the white town gleams out +amongst the cliffs, then it becomes quite dark and Capri's isle sinks +into the gloom of night.</p> + +<p>But lo! already climbs the moon over Sorrento's mountain, and the veil +of twilight glides down Monte Solaro's heights, over shimmering olive +woods, over orange and myrtle groves, and vanishes amid the waves of the +gulf. Night dreams a beautiful dream, and mysteriously the siren's +moonlit island rises out of the dark sea. A gentle south wind breathes +over the water, murmurs amidst the half-slumbering waves, flies +fragrantly over orange-trees in blossom, and playfully rocks the tender +vine branches. Jubilant voices call out from the sea, louder and louder +they sound in the stillness of the night, and the wanderer on Monte +Solaro hears the rustling of wings in the moonlit space above.</p> + +<p>When Capri awakes the next morning, every one knows that the wild geese +have passed. Spring has come, and the shooting season has begun! From +early morning the Piazza is full of dogs. The quiet of everyday life has +departed, a certain energy animates their dull features, and the +reflection of an idea lights up the contemplative gloom of their eyes.</p> + +<p>In front of Maria Vacca's butcher-shop hangs a dead quail, and outside +Don Antonio's <i>osteria</i> stand guns in long rows, and upon the chairs lie +great game-bags and powder-horns. Il Cacciatore has been in the wineshop +since sunrise, in colossal shooting-boots with cartridge-belt round his +waist. Woe to the quail which may now appear in Maria Vacca's shop! It +vanishes at once into Il Cacciatore's game-bag. Inside the Municipal +Portico a younger generation listens to old Timberio Pagano's shooting +stories of the days of his youth, when many thousand quails were caught +in a day, and up on the Church steps the clericals think sadly of that +period of vanished splendour when Capri had its own Bishop, whose +maintenance was paid by the quail harvest—"<i>Vescovo delle quaglie</i>"<a name="FNanchor_28_28" id="FNanchor_28_28"></a><a href="#Footnote_28_28" class="fnanchor">[28]</a> +as he was called in Rome. Excitement increases as the hours pass, and +when at last the Campanile's bells announce that the first day's +shooting is over, each one goes to his home to gather strength for the +next day's exertions. Once again darkness falls upon the island, and +Capri sleeps the sleep of the just.</p> + +<p>On tired wings swarms of birds fly over the sea. Thousands have fallen +on Africa's coasts, where they assembled for their long journey, +thousands have sunk exhausted amidst the waves, thousands will die on +the rocky island which glimmers from afar in the darkness. Sheltered by +the last hour of gloom they approach the island and silently swoop down +upon its steep coast, upon the heights by Villa di Tiberio, where the +hermit watches behind his snares; amongst the cliffs of Mitromania and +the Piccola Marina, where nets are spread to catch their wings; upon the +headlands of Limbo and Punta di Carena, where the Capri dogs, stealthy +as cats, sneak round after their prey. When day dawns over Monte +Solaro, and its first rays stream even as they did two thousand years +ago in sacred fire upon the old sun-god's crumbling altar in the grotto +of Mitromania,<a name="FNanchor_29_29" id="FNanchor_29_29"></a><a href="#Footnote_29_29" class="fnanchor">[29]</a> hundreds of birds, quails, wood-pigeons, larks, +thrushes, flutter in the nets around, and hundreds of others bleed to +death amongst the cliffs—but what cares the sun for that! What matters +it to the sun that the darkness he disperses conceals a multitude of +worn-out birds from rapacious eyes, that to-day death stalks from cliff +to cliff along the track shown by his gleaming light:</p> + +<div class="poem2"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"So che Natura è sorda,</span> +<span class="i0"> Che miserar non sa;</span> +<span class="i0"> Che non del Ben sollecita</span> +<span class="i0"> Fu, ma dell 'esser solo."<a name="FNanchor_30_30" id="FNanchor_30_30"></a><a href="#Footnote_30_30" class="fnanchor">[30]</a></span> +</div></div> + +<p>Upon the heights of Monte Solaro sits Il Cacciatore, armed to the teeth, +looking with the eye of a conqueror over the field of battle below. The +day has been a hot one, Il Cacciatore has fired some hundred shots in +different directions. At his feet lie his two dogs, mother and son, and +behind him sits Spadaro with an extra gun in his hands and an enormous +game-bag over his shoulder. Now and then mother and son give little +yelps and wag their tails, following in their dreams an escaping bird, +now and then Il Cacciatore's hand fumbles after his trusty gun to bring +down an imaginary quail or pigeon, now and then Spadaro seems to stuff +some new booty into his vast bag. Deeper and deeper grows the silence +over Monte Solaro. Down at their feet the three rocks of Faraglione +shine in purple and gold, and the glow of the sinking sun falls on the +waves of the gulf. From the town of Capri hotel bells ring for dinner. +A fragrant hallucination of quail-pie tickles Il Cacciatore's nostrils, +and from under his half-shut eyelids the whole gulf assumes a +tantalising resemblance to a sea of pure <i>Capri rosso</i>—that purple hue +which already old Homer likened to red wine—whilst Spadaro's more +modest imagination hears the macaroni splutter and boil in the murmur of +the waves against the cliff below, and sees the purple glow of the +evening sun pour masses of "pumaroli"<a name="FNanchor_31_31" id="FNanchor_31_31"></a><a href="#Footnote_31_31" class="fnanchor">[31]</a> sauce over it.</p> + +<p>Suddenly Il Cacciatore rubs his eyes and looks dreamily around, and +Spadaro investigates with amazement the bag, where only a single little +lark, which was on its way to give spring concerts in the north, sleeps +his last sleep. <i>Hallo! Spadaro! Andiamonci!</i><a name="FNanchor_32_32" id="FNanchor_32_32"></a><a href="#Footnote_32_32" class="fnanchor">[32]</a> The dogs wake up by +degrees, and the caravan starts slowly on its way towards Capri. Tired +by the day's toil, at last they reach the Piazza and its friendly +wineshop, where Il Cacciatore sits down to rest whilst Spadaro and the +dogs carry home the lark in triumph.</p> + +<p>So pass the weeks of the shooting season in continued exertions. Every +morning before daybreak they start off to try and capture Spring in its +flight, every evening they meet on the Piazza to rest, and often enough +do we assemble round our friend Il Cacciatore's table to partake of a +magnificent quail-pie, such as only he can put before us.</p> + +<p>But although the ranks are thinned, the March of The Ten Thousand still +advances victoriously. Soon the larks sing over the frosty fields in the +distant North, soon the swallows twitter under the eaves of the far-off +little cottage, which has lain so long half-buried in snow, and the +quails sound their monotonous note in the spring evenings.</p> + +<p>The shooting season is over, and the Capri dogs sit blankly upon the +Piazza, staring out over the gulf in the direction the bird flew when he +escaped out of their hands. Higher and higher the sacred fire flames +each morning upon the sun-god's altar down in Mitromania's grotto, +brighter and brighter the Faraglioni rocks gleam each evening with +purple and gold, with a still ruddier glow the wine-hue of the gulf +fascinates Il Cacciatore's retina. Silently the liberal dogs ponder over +the burning questions of the day, and, panting, the clericals listen +from their sunny church steps to the prophecies of the fires of <i>Il +purgatorio</i>, which the priests proclaim every Sunday inside the cool +Church. Public life ceases by degrees, and it seems as if a reaction +sets in after the excitement of the shooting season. The arrival of the +steamer is certainly still watched from the Piazza, and with one eye +open they look at the few strangers who wander up to the Piazza with +outspread sketching-umbrellas and easel and colour-box on a boy's head. +True, they still assemble in front of the closed door of the office to +await the opening of the post-bag, but interest in political life has +slackened, and their hope of letters has become a quiet resignation. +Inside the <i>Farmacia</i> the drugs ferment in their pots, and in Don +Nicolino's Salone living frescoes of flies adorn the walls. About the +slopes of Monte Salaro the Scirocco hangs in heavy clouds, and an +irresistible drowsiness settles down upon the Piazza. Capri enters into +its summer torpor.</p> + +<p>When it awakes the sun has subdued his fire, and the table stands ready +spread for the lords of creation to seat themselves and feast, and for +the dogs to gather up the fragments that remain. From the <i>pergola</i> +over their heads hang grapes in heavy clusters, and amidst the shade of +the orange-groves peep out juicy figs and red-cheeked peaches. Then +comes the Bacchanalia of the vintage, with song and jest and maiden's +bright eyes looking out from under huge baskets of grapes, and naked +feet freeing the slumbering butterfly of wine from its crushed +chrysalis.</p> + +<p>Over the Piazza a cooling sea breeze blows now and again, and Capri +takes a refreshing bath of heavy autumnal rain to wash away the heat and +dust of summer. The dogs save themselves in time from the vivacity of +the unknown element, but millions of obscure lives are drowned in the +streams which force their way like a deluge over the bloody battle-field +of summer, whilst others find their Ararat amongst the brushes in Don +Nicolino's Salone.</p> + +<p>The mist of unconsciousness is gradually lifted from the dogs' brains, +and waking dreams about activity and strength stare out from their +half-shut eyes. Don Nicolino smilingly dusts the halo of flies from his +portrait, and, deep in thought, Don Petruccio composes a new elixir of +life from summer's <i>mixtum compositum</i>. Fenocchio and Giovanni seat +themselves again in their corner to wash a little copper out of the +tourist stream, and with trembling legs the small donkeys once more +unload numbers of <i>forestieri</i> in the Piazza. From Vesuvius the smoke +falls in long cloud-streamers over the gulf, and upon the wings of the +Tramontana (the north wind), Summer flies home again after her +wedding-trip to the North. In vain do the Capriotes spread their nets +once more round the shores of the island; in vain do the dogs lie in +wait amongst the rocks; in vain does Il Cacciatore sit in full armour on +the heights of Monte Solaro and shoot off his cartridges after the +fugitive—Summer passes by.</p> + +<p>With drooping tails the dogs sit huddled together upon the stones of +their Piazza, thinking with sorrow of their departed summer idyll. From +snow-covered Apennines, Winter comes sailing in his foam-hidden +dragon-ship over the uneasy waters of the gulf. The storm thunders +amidst the ruins of the old watch-tower, whose alarm-bell<a name="FNanchor_33_33" id="FNanchor_33_33"></a><a href="#Footnote_33_33" class="fnanchor">[33]</a> has been +silent for so long, and amongst the foaming breakers the mad Viking +boards Capri's cliffs. Strong as a whirlwind he cuts in pieces the +pergola garlands which were left hanging after Autumn's Bacchanalian +feast, and, brutal as a savage, he tears asunder the leaf-woven chiton +which clothed the Dryad of the grove.</p> + +<p>But down in Mitromania's grotto the sacred fire flames as before upon +the old Persian god's altar, and tenderly the God of Day spreads his +shining shield over his beloved island and bids the barbarian from the +North go to sea again. So he departs, the rough stranger, his errand +unaccomplished, without having robbed a single rose from the maiden's +sun-warmed cheek, without having stolen a single golden fruit from the +everlasting green of the orange groves. And scarcely has he turned his +back before tiny fearless violets peep carefully out from among the +hillocks, and narcissus and rosemary clamber high up on the steep cliffs +to see whither the harsh Northerner has gone, and soon a whole flock of +flower children come and set themselves down to play at summer in the +grass.</p> + +<p>Upon the Piazza the dogs sit as before in sunny contemplation. The cycle +of their life's emotions has been run through, and they begin to turn +over anew the blank pages of their history, page after page in unvarying +sequence. Day follows day and year follows year, and soon old age comes +and scatters some white almond blossom upon their heads. The buoyant +delights of the senses are benumbed, youth's far-flying thoughts have +broken their wings against the four walls of the Piazza, and like tame +ducks they go round and round their enclosed space, from Don Antonio's +wineshop to Felicello's donkey-stand, from Don Nicolino's Salone to Don +Petruccio's Farmacia. Now and again the free cry of the passing wild +geese high above in space reaches the Piazza, the early youthful courage +wakes anew, and they sluggishly tramp along towards the Anacapri road as +far as their heavy limbs can carry them. Now and again a faint echo from +some world's revolution trembles on their tympanums through Don +Peppino's post-office, and they look away in dreaming peace to the white +town of Naples, the noise of whose human life is lost amidst the murmur +of the waves, or away to the old revolutionist Vesuvius, whose +threatening wrath will never reach their Eden.</p> + +<p>So they sit on their Piazza, staring out upon the river of time as it +flows past them. They still sit there staring for a few more years to +come, then they move no more—they have become hypnotised. The struggle +for existence has ceased, and imperceptibly they sink into Buddha's +Nirvâna, unconscious, painless, inebriate with the sun.</p> + + +<br /><br /><br /><br /> +<h2><a name="ZOOLOGY" id="ZOOLOGY"></a>ZOOLOGY</h2> + + +<p>They say that love for mankind is the highest of all virtues. I admire +this love for mankind, and I know well that it only belongs to noble +minds. My soul is too small, my thought flies too near the earth ever to +reach so far, and I am obliged to acknowledge that the longer I live the +farther I depart from this high ideal. I should lie if I said that I +love mankind.</p> + +<p>But I love animals, oppressed, despised animals, and I do not care when +people laugh at me because I say that I feel happier with them than with +the majority of people I come across.</p> + +<p>When one has spoken with a human being for half an hour, one has, as a +rule, had quite enough, isn't it so? I, at least, then usually feel +inclined to slip away, and I am always astonished that he with whom I +have been speaking has not tried to escape long before. But I am never +bored in the society of a friendly dog, even if I do not know him or he +me. Often when I meet a dog walking along by himself, I stop and ask him +where he is going and have a little chat with him; and even if no +further conversation takes place, it does me good to look at him and try +to enter into the thoughts which are working in his mind. Dogs have this +immense advantage over man that they cannot dissimulate, and +Talleyrand's paradox that speech has been given us in order to conceal +our thoughts, cannot at all be applied to dogs.</p> + +<p>I can sit half the day in a field watching the grazing cattle; and to +observe the physiognomy of a little donkey is one of the keenest +pleasures of a psychologist. But it is specially when donkeys are free +that they are most interesting, a tied-up donkey is not nearly so +communicative as when she is loose and at liberty, and that after all is +not much to be wondered at.</p> + +<p>At Ischia I lived for a long time almost exclusively with a donkey. It +was Fate which brought us together. I lived in a little boat-house down +at the Marina, and the donkey lived next door to me. I had quite lost my +sleep up in the stifling rooms of the hotel, and had gladly accepted my +friend Antonio's invitation to live down at the Marina in his cool +boat-house, while he was out fishing in the bay of Gaeta. I fared +exceedingly well in there amongst the pots and fishing-nets; and astride +on the keel of an old upturned boat I wrote long love-letters to the +sea. And when evening came and it began to grow dusk in the boat-house, +I went to bed in my hammock, with a sail for a covering and the memory +of a happy day for a pillow. I fell asleep with the waves and I woke +with the day. Each morning came my neighbour, the old donkey, and stuck +in her solemn head through the open door, looking steadfastly at me. I +always wondered why she stood there so still and did nothing but stare +at me, and I could not hit upon any other explanation than that she +thought I was nice to look at. I lay there half awake looking at her—I +thought that she too was nice to look at. She resembled an old family +portrait as she stood there with her gray head framed by the doorway +against the blue background of a summer's morning. Out there it grew +lighter and lighter, and the clear surface of the sea began to glitter. +Then came a ray of sunlight dancing right into my eyes, and I sprang up +and greeted the gulf. I had nothing whatever to do all day, but the poor +donkey was supposed to be at work the whole forenoon up in Casamicciola. +There grew, however, such a sympathy between us that I found a +substitute for her, and then we wandered carelessly about all day long, +like true vagabonds wherever the road led us. Sometimes it was I who +went first with the donkey trotting quietly at my heels, sometimes it +was she who had got a fixed determination of her own, and then I +naturally followed her. I studied the whole time with great attention +the interesting personality I had so unexpectedly come across, and it +was long since I had found myself in such congenial company. I might +have much more to say about all this, but these psychological researches +may prove far too serious a topic for many of my readers, and I +therefore believe I had better stop here.</p> + +<p>And the birds, who can ever tire of them? Hour after hour I can sit on a +mossy stone and listen to what a dear little bird has to say—I, who can +never keep my thoughts together when some one is talking to me. But have +you noticed how sweet a little bird is to look at when he sings his +song, and now and again bends his graceful head, as if to listen for +some one to answer far away in the forest? In the late summer, when the +bird-mother has to teach her children to talk—do not believe it is +only a matter of instinct, even they have to take lessons in learning +their singing language—have you watched these lessons when the mother +from her swinging-chair lectures about something or other, and the +summer-old little ones stammer after her with their clear child-voices?</p> + +<p>And when the birds are silent, I have only to look down among the grass +and moss to light on other acquaintances to keep me company. Over waving +grass and corn flies a dragon-fly on wings of sun-glitter and fairy-web, +and deep down in the path, which winds between the mighty grass stems, a +little ant struggles on with a dry fir-needle on her back. Rough is the +road, now it goes up-hill and now it goes down-hill, now she pushes the +heavy load like a sledge before her, now she carries it upon her slender +shoulders. She pulls so hard up-hill that her whole little body +stiffens, she rolls down the steep slopes with her burden clasped +tightly in her arms; but she never lets go, and onward it goes, for the +ant is in a hurry to get home. Soon the dew will fall, and then it is +unsafe to be out in the trackless forest, and best to be home in peace +after the day's work is ended. Now the road becomes mountainous and +steep, and suddenly a mighty rock rises in front of her—what the name +of that rock is the ant knows well enough; I know nothing, and to me it +looks like an ordinary pebble. The ant stops short and ponders awhile, +then she gives a signal with her antennæ, which I am too stupid to +understand but which others at once respond to, for from behind a dry +leaf I see two other ants approach to the rescue. I watch how they hold +a council of war, and how the new arrivals with great concern pull the +log to try how heavy it is. Suddenly they stand quite still and +listen—an ant-patrol marches by a little way off, and I see how a +couple of ants are told off to lend assistance. Then they all take hold +together, and like sailors they haul up the log with a long slow pull.</p> + +<p>I understand it is to repair the havoc made by an earthquake that the +log is to be used—how many hard-working lives were perhaps crushed +under the ruins of the fallen houses, and what evil power was it that +destroyed what so much patient labour built up? I dare not ask, for who +knows if it were not a passing man who amused himself by knocking down +the ant-hill with his stick!</p> + +<p>And all the other tiny creatures, whose name I do not know, but into +whose small world I look with joy, they also are fellow-citizens in +Creation's great society, and probably they fulfil their public duties +far better than I fulfil mine!</p> + +<p>And besides, when thus lying down and staring into the grass, one ends +by becoming so very small oneself.</p> + +<p>And at last it seems to me as if I were nothing but an ant myself, +struggling on with my heavy load through the trackless forest. Now it +goes up-hill and now it goes down-hill. But the thing is not to let go. +And if there is some one to help to give a pull where the hill seems too +steep and the load too heavy, all goes well enough.</p> + +<p>But suddenly Fate comes passing by and knocks down all that has been +built up with so much hard labour.</p> + +<p>The ant struggles on with her heavy load deep in the trackless forest. +The way is long, and there is still some time before the day's work is +over and the dew falls.</p> + +<p>But high overhead flies the dream on wings of sun-glitter and fairy-web.</p> + + +<br /><br /><br /><br /> +<h2><a name="HYPOCHONDRIA" id="HYPOCHONDRIA"></a>HYPOCHONDRIA</h2> + + +<p>The study of micro-organisms has directed medical science into new +channels, and thrown open a hitherto undreamt-of world for eager +investigators. The list of recent discoveries in bacteriology is already +a long one. Koch's researches in cholera and tuberculosis, and Pasteur's +method of vaccination against hydrophobia, are but links in the chain +which one day shall fetter the hydra-headed dragon of disease. Less +known, but hardly less important, are the very latest studies of +hypochondria, which have led to the discovery that this evil also +belongs to infectious diseases.</p> + +<p>Struck by the constant disorder of thought and sensibility which +characterise the hypochondriac, the doctors have up till now placed this +malady amongst the nervous diseases, and it is in the central organs of +the nervous system, more especially the brain, that its seat and origin +have been determined. We finally know that hypochondria is an infectious +disease, caused by a microbe which has been isolated, and named +<i>Bacillus niger</i> (A. M.).</p> + +<p>It is after all astonishing that this discovery has escaped so many +investigators ever since Burton, whose <i>Anatomy of Melancholy</i> still +remains unparalleled—it is astonishing when one considers the many +analogies which connect this so-called nervous disease with some of the +best-known bacterial diseases, such as hydrophobia, tuberculosis, and +cholera. As in hydrophobia, so in hypochondria the virus spreads over +the nervous system, produces constant and well-known disorders in the +brain, and ends here also by paralysis, paralysis of the affected +individual's intellectual and moral functions, and, at last, mental +death. As in hydrophobia, one also notices by the bacillus niger +infection cramp in certain groups of muscles—that of the muscles of +laughter being, for instance, very common. This cramp, <i>risus +sardonicus</i>, is excessively painful, and its prognostic signification is +a bad one, for it is a characteristic of absolutely incurable cases +(Heine).</p> + +<p>The tendency to bite, which characterises hydrophobia, is also +encountered in certain forms of hypochondria (Schopenhauer). As a rule +the affected individual is, however, inoffensive and resigned +(Leopardi).</p> + +<p>The cholera characteristic, <i>Stadium algidum</i>, is also to be found in +bacillus niger infection—a Stadium algidum when the soul slowly grows +cold, and at last reaches the zero of insensibility (Tiberius).</p> + +<p>The curious, and, up till now, unexplained immunity which protects +certain individuals from cholera, appears again in hypochondria—so, +for instance, have idiots shown themselves absolutely refractory, <i>i.e.</i> +not receptive of the bacillus niger infection. The explanation of the +relative rarity of hypochondria is probably to be found in this +fact. . . .</p> + +<p>In analogy with what experimental pathology has taught us about the +microbes of cholera and tuberculosis, the bacillus niger does not seem +to thrive on animals, though several exceptions to this rule are to be +found, and as the tuberculosis bacillus is exceedingly common amongst +cows, so may be pointed out the great diffusion of bacillus niger +infection amongst old donkeys (Rosina). I do not believe, though, that +here, as with the cows, one can speak of spontaneous infection—the +virus has, in the case of the old donkey, more probably been introduced +into the blood through a flogged back. Dogs seem, after a long contact +with infected individuals, to be receptive of contagion (Puck).</p> + +<p>Bacillus niger originates in the heart—there is no doubt about +that—the disorders of the brain are secondary. The explanation why the +seat of the evil has been supposed to be the brain is natural enough, +because as a rule it is only since the infection has spread to the brain +that the malady can be diagnosed. So long as bacillus niger has only +attacked the heart, the diagnosis is much more difficult. The nature of +the evil can, however, here, as in certain forms of tuberculosis, be +easily enough detected at the back of the eyes. This is probably in +relation with the morbid alteration of the organ of sight, which +characterises the bacillus niger infection—<i>the patient sees life as it +is</i>; when, on the contrary, as is well known, in the normal eye the +vision of the outer world is reflected through certain media, illusions +and never-dying hope, before it is transferred through the optic nerve +to the brain.</p> + +<p>As with microbes of the before-mentioned diseases, bacillus niger is +also exceedingly tenacious of life. Its virulence can be temporarily +reduced by alcohol, ink, and music. As for alcohol, its effect is +indubitable, but unfortunately of very short duration. The microbe very +soon—indeed, already the next morning, according to all +experimentalists—regains its full vigour, and its temporary inactivity +seems rather to have increased its virulence instead of decreasing it. +Like most of the other antimicrobic agents, alcohol is in itself a +deadly poison, and its application in the treatment of the disease is +therefore very limited. It is to be used with the greatest precaution, +for there are numerous instances of the individual having followed his +microbe to the grave.</p> + +<p>May I here mention <i>en passant</i> a harmless old quack remedy—the common +practice of smoking out the microbe. The home of the tobacco-plant is +the same land where the poppy of oblivion blossoms, the silent shores +between which flows the stream of Lethe. The fragrance of its leaf has +deadened the microbe in more than one diseased brain, the clouds from an +old pipe have hidden the reality from more than one sorrowful eye. (Do +you remember Rodolphe in Henri Murger's <i>Vie de Bohème</i>?)</p> + +<p>Ink as a bactericide is less known, but worth consideration. I know of a +case, to which I shall return later, where a momentary amelioration was +produced by an ink-cure. Contrary to alcohol, this specific can be used +without any danger whatever to the individual himself—the danger being +limited to his surroundings. The microbe is dipped in the ink-stand, and +fixed on paper to dry. It maintains, however, its virulence long enough, +and can, transplanted in a fertile soil, regain its vigour and grow. +The preparation must, therefore, be strictly locked up in the +writing-desk, which now and then must be disinfected, the surest +disinfectant being here, as always, fire.</p> + +<p>As for music, this treatment was known even in the childhood of science; +it was already highly esteemed by the ancients—hypochondria is, as is +well known, one of the oldest of all diseases; it resounds already in +the choruses of Sophocles and Euripides. The new world of bacteriology +was then undreamt of, but the discoveries of thousands of years have +done no more than verify the experience of the ancients. Music still +remains the greatest consoler of sorrow-stricken man. Still to-day Saul +seeks relief for his sombre soul from David's harp, still to-day does +Orpheus conquer the shades of Hades by the sound of his lute; still +to-day the song calls out for the Eurydice of our longing.</p> + +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> + +<p>As was to be expected, the discovery of the microbe of hypochondria gave +quite a new direction to the study of the treatment of this disease. To +relate here the far-reaching experiences which followed the isolation of +the bacillus niger would carry us too far—enough to say that the +results of these investigations have unfortunately up till now been +hopelessly negative. We, however, find it expedient to mention in a few +words the experiments in air-therapeutics by which the discoverer of the +microbe hoped to find a remedy for the evil—true that the result was +even here negative, but there is a certain amount of interest still +attached to these experiments which, pursued with more patience, might +perhaps have led to a more satisfactory result. Starting from the +analogy between the bacillus niger infection and tuberculosis, the +doctor emitted his hypothesis of a region of immunity from hypochondria +as well as from consumption, of a possibility of finding in the pure air +of the high altitudes a medium where the development of bacillus niger +in the mind would cease, as well as the development of the +tuberculosis-bacilli in the lungs. It was in the domain of experimental +pathology—the field where Pasteur and Koch reaped their laurels—that +the solution of the problem was to be looked for, and the bacterium in +question living almost exclusively on mankind, the suitable animal for +experiment had in this case necessarily to be a man. The doctor had for +several years attended an individual affected with the complaint in +question. It was a fine case. We quote here from the notes of the +doctor: "Man about thirty. The patient maintains an obstinate silence as +to the origin of his sufferings; it is, however, evident that the evil +dates from several years back. External examination nothing +remarkable—on the contrary. Big dog at his heels. Energy but little +developed. Active impulses wanting. Ambition rudimentary. Intelligence +mediocre—maybe slightly above. Sense of humour well defined, as usual +in these cases. Sensibility abnormally developed. Heart perhaps rather +large. Tendency for idealism. Patient has hallucinations—fancies, for +instance, he is surrounded by people who suffer and hunger; imagines +seeing all sorts of animals oppressed and tortured to death." The doctor +had in vain prescribed several things in order to calm and distract his +diseased mind, rest-cure in Anacapri for a whole year; earthquake in +Ischia, cholera in Naples, etc. etc., but without any enduring result. +Returned to Paris, the patient had, though with visible aversion, gone +through a cure of ink-treatment, and in the beginning had felt a little +better for it, but had soon fallen back to his normal condition of +hopeless dejection. The doctor was at his wit's end, and began to be +bored to death by the continual lamentations of his patient. The +unfortunate man was perpetually hanging about in the doctor's +consulting-room, and ended by taking up nearly his whole day, to the +great detriment of his other practice. It was then the doctor +communicated to his patient his hypothesis of the possibility of a +region of immunity from hypochondria, as from consumption, and the +desirability of finding a fitting animal for experiment, for the purpose +of studying the influence of high altitudes on hypochondria.</p> + +<p>The patient placed himself at the doctor's absolute disposal.</p> + +<p>On the top of Mont Blanc (4810 mètres) the doctor still found a +considerable quantity of microbes in the thoughts of his patient. The +patient complained that he felt so small and forlorn up there on the +pinnacles of Nature's temple, where all around him the Alps raised their +marble-shining arch of triumph over the silent cloud-heavy earth. With +awe he bent his eyes before the beaming majesty of the sun, where, +indomitable and unconscious, the Almighty Ruler trod his course over the +shade and light of the valleys, over the sorrow and joy of man.</p> + +<p>Chained to the ice-axe firmly riveted in the frozen snow, did the doctor +leave his patient for a whole night on a projecting rock, under the +shoulder of the Matterhorn (4273 mètres), while the snowstorm passed. +Now and then a flash of lightning flamed through the icy night of the +desolate precipices; like combating Titans, giant-shaped crags stood out +between storm-driven clouds, and the mighty mountain shook, while the +thunder rolled over the snow-fields. Then everything became still; the +storm passed by, and like silent birds of the night heavy flakes of +snow floated through the darkness. With stiff-frozen limbs, half-covered +with snow, sat the patient in mute wonder, looking out over Matterhorn's +sombre cliffs, over Monte Rosa's desolate glaciers. The patient +complained of feeling so utterly helpless before the magnificent force +which had built up this, the proudest monument of the Alps, so crushed +before the time-defying Titan, who, it seemed to him, was only going to +fall with the world, which was his footstool. . . . He listened with awe +to the mountains answer; high above his head he heard the thunder of +loosening rocks, and while the echo replied from the Ebihorn cliffs, an +avalanche of rattling stones rolled along the flank of the mountain to +break into fragments and disappear deep down amongst the crevices of the +Zmutt glacier—mute testimonies that even the mightiest mountain of the +Alps was condemned to crumble away into grains of sand in the +hour-glass of the Eternal, broken fragments from the oldest monument of +creation, teaching, like the modern hieroglyphics from the Nile, that +all shall perish.</p> + +<p>As the night passed on the patient felt more and more downcast and +miserable. The doctor had already given up the experiment as hopeless, +when towards daybreak, to his great astonishment, symptoms of an +unmistakable amelioration showed themselves. The patient's head had +fallen on the guide's shoulder; a painless repose crept over his +stiffening limbs, and with utmost interest the doctor found an almost +complete absence of bacillus niger in the benumbed thought of his +patient. The doctor watched for a while in great excitement the +patient's pale face, while the darkness of the night vanished more and +more, and the dawn of a new day flew over the horizon. He was just going +to make a new test on bacillus niger, when one of the guides suddenly +leaned his ear against the patient's breast, and then anxiously began to +rub his nostrils and half-open eyelids with brandy, and to pull his arms +and legs. . . .</p> + +<p>When he shortly afterwards slowly opened his eyes, he was more depressed +than ever, and remained decidedly worse for several days.</p> + +<p>After renewed experiments on Monte Rosa, Schreckhorn, Die Jungfrau, and +a prolonged observation in a crevasse under the Mont Maudit cliffs of +Mont Blanc (1471 mètres), the doctor had to give up his hypothesis of +immunity from hypochondria. In spite of the isolation of the microbe, we +are obliged to admit that no positive result has been gained up till now +as to the treatment of the affected individual—the analogy with cholera +and even tuberculosis can, alas! be applied even here. We continue to +remain powerless to cure hypochondria. We are able to soothe the +sufferings of the hypochondriac, because we are able to deaden his +microbe—kill it, we cannot. After more or less time the bacillus niger +recovers his virulence, and the diseased individual retakes his +momentary interrupted course towards the sombre land whence no traveller +returns, and over whose doors are written those words of the great seer:</p> + +<div class="poem2"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"Lasciate ogni Speranza, voi ch'entrate!"</span> +</div></div> + +<p>A severe scientific critic might, however, object that the +above-mentioned experiment on the influence of high altitude on +hypochondria was not pursued long enough to make its negative result +absolutely conclusive. Who knows if the solution of the problem did not +slip out of the doctor's hands that night on the Matterhorn? Who knows +if the patient might not for all time have been freed from his bacillus, +if he had been allowed to remain a little longer up there on the +Matterhorn's cliff, under the cover of the falling snow, while the +darkness of the night vanished more and more from his benumbed thought, +and the dawn of a new day flew past his half-opened eye?</p> + + +<br /><br /><br /><br /> +<h2><a name="LA_MADONNA_DEL_BUON_CAMMINO" id="LA_MADONNA_DEL_BUON_CAMMINO"></a>LA MADONNA DEL BUON CAMMINO</h2> + +<p style="margin-left: 70%;"><span class="smcap">Naples, 1884.</span></p> + +<p>The doctor had often seen him at the door of the sanctuary looking out +over the dirty lane, and, even when a long distance from each other, +friendly salutations were exchanged between them in the usual Neapolitan +fashion of waving hands, with "<i>Buon giorno, Don Dionisio!</i>" "<i>Ben +venuto, Signor Dottore!</i>"</p> + +<p>Often, too, he had looked in at the old deserted cloister garden, with +its dried-up fountain and a few pale autumn roses against the wall of +the little chapel. And Don Dionisio had related to him many of the +miracles of the Madonna of Buon Cammino. The Madonna of Buon Cammino +stood there quite alone in her half-ruined sanctuary, and only one tiny +little oil-lamp struggled with the darkness within. With great +solemnity Don Dionisio had drawn aside the curtain which veiled his +Madonna from profane eyes; and tenderly as a mother he had arranged the +tattered fringes of her robe, which threatened to fall to pieces +altogether. And the doctor had looked with compassionate wonder upon the +pale waxen image with the impassive smile on the rigid features, which +to Don Dionisio's eyes reflected the highest physical and spiritual +beauty. "<i>Come è bella, come è simpatica!</i>"<a name="FNanchor_34_34" id="FNanchor_34_34"></a><a href="#Footnote_34_34" class="fnanchor">[34]</a> said he, looking up at +his Madonna.</p> + +<p>Inside the old church of Santa Maria del Carmine, close by, hundreds of +votive candles were burning before the altars, and night and day the +people flocked in there to implore the mighty Madonna's protection. +Mothers took the rings off their hands and hung them as sacred offerings +round the Madonna's neck, girls drew the strings of coral out of their +dark plaits to adorn the rich robe of the statue, and, with brows +pressed against the worn marble floor, strong men knelt, murmuring +prayers for help and mercy.</p> + +<p>Death dwelt in the slums of Naples. Three times the wonder-working image +of the Madonna del Carmine had been carried round the quarter in solemn +procession to protect the people of the Mercato from the dreaded plague, +and many miracles were reported of dying people brought back to life on +being permitted to kiss the hem of the garment of the blessed Maria del +Carmine.</p> + +<p>The doctor had seen Don Dionisio disappear into his little portico with +a disdainful shrug when the procession of Maria del Carmine passed by, +and he had more than once heard the old priest express his doubts about +the far-famed Madonna's wonder-working power to one gossip or another, +whom he had succeeded in stopping on her way to the church of the +Madonna.</p> + +<p>"What, after all, has your Madonna done for you, you people of Mercato?" +he called out mockingly. "If she is so powerful, why has she not saved +Naples from the cholera? And here, in the midst of her own quarter in +Mercato, whose inhabitants for centuries have knelt before her, what has +she done to prevent the disease spreading here? Do not people die every +day round her own sanctuary, round the very Piazza del Mercato, in spite +of all your prayers, in spite of all your votive candles? <i>Altro che la +Madonna del Carmine!</i><a name="FNanchor_35_35" id="FNanchor_35_35"></a><a href="#Footnote_35_35" class="fnanchor">[35]</a></p> + +<p>"And as the cholera has never reached this side of the Piazza, and never +will reach it, whom do you suppose you have to thank for that, if not +the holy Madonna del Buon Cammino, who stretches her protecting hand +over you although you do not deserve it, although you leave her +sanctuary dark and take all your offerings to the other Madonnas, +whatever their names may be! And yet you cannot see in your blindness +that the blessed Madonna del Buon Cammino is far more powerful than all +your Madonnas put together! <i>Altro che la Madonna del Carmine!</i>"</p> + +<p>But no one seemed to take any heed of the old man's words, no votive +candles dispersed the darkness within the chapel of the blessed Madonna +del Buon Cammino, and no lips murmured her name in their prayers for +help and protection against the dreaded sickness. Had they not Santa +Maria del Carmine close by, who from all time had been the patron saint +of the quarter, who had helped them through so much distress, and +consoled them in so much misery? Was there not in her church that +miraculous crucifix out of whose pierced side blood trickled every Good +Friday, and whose hair the priests solemnly cut every Christmas,—that +same crucifix which had bowed its head to avoid the enemy's bullet, and +sent death to the besieger's camp and victory to Naples? And if the +Madonna del Carmine could not give sufficient protection to all of them +in these days of distress, had they not the venerable Madonna del +Colera, who saved their city in the year 1834 from the same sickness +which now raged amongst them? And in the Harbour quarter close by, did +not the Madonna del Porto Salvo stand in her sumptuous chapel dressed in +silk and gold brocade, ready to listen to their prayers? Was there not +to be found by the Banchi Nuovi the far-famed Madonna dell'Aiuto, who +would certainly not belie her name of Helper in the hour of need? Had +they not La Madonna dell'Addolorata with the mantle of solid silver and +the black velvet robe, whose folds no one had ever kissed without +gaining comfort and peace? Had they not La Madonna dell'Immacolata, +whose sky-blue garment was strewn with gold stars from the vault of +heaven itself? Had they not La Madonna di Salette in her purple skirt +dyed with the blood of martyrs? And did not San Gennaro himself stand in +his shining dome above,—he, the patron saint of Naples, whose congealed +blood flows anew every year,—he who protected the city of his care from +plague and famine, and commanded the flowing lava of Vesuvius to stop +before its gates? But La Madonna del Buon Cammino—who knew anything of +her? Who knew whence she came or who had seen with their own eyes a +single miracle worked by her hand? What kind of Madonna was that whose +shrine remained without candles or flowers, and whose mantle was in +rags? "<i>Non tiene neppure capelli, la vostra Madonna!</i>"<a name="FNanchor_36_36" id="FNanchor_36_36"></a><a href="#Footnote_36_36" class="fnanchor">[36]</a> an old woman +had once shouted in Don Dionisio's face, to the great joy of the crowd. +The effect of this argument had been crushing, and Don Dionisio had +disappeared in great fury inside his portico, and had not been seen +again for several days.</p> + +<p>The doctor's road lay in that direction one evening, and he determined +to visit his old friend. From inside the chapel he heard Don Dionisio +with mighty voice singing an old Latin hymn in honour of his Madonna.</p> + +<div class="poem2"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"Consolatrix miserorum,</span> +<span class="i0"> Suscitatrix mortuorum,</span> +<span class="i0"> Mortis rumpe retia;</span> +<span class="i0"> Intendentes tuae laudi,</span> +<span class="i0"> Nos attende, nos exaudi,</span> +<span class="i0"> Nos a morte libera!"</span> +</div></div> + +<p>He lifted the curtain before the door, and in the light of the little +oil-lamp he saw Don Dionisio on his knees before the image of his +Madonna, very busy brushing the cobwebs off an enormous old wig of an +indescribable colour. His anger had not yet subsided. "<i>Dicono che non +tiene capelli!</i>" he called out as soon as he caught sight of the doctor; +"<i>mo vogliamo vedere chi tieni i più belli capelli!</i>"<a name="FNanchor_37_37" id="FNanchor_37_37"></a><a href="#Footnote_37_37" class="fnanchor">[37]</a> And with a +triumphant glance at his visitor he placed the wig upon the bald head of +La Madonna del Buon Cammino. "<i>Come è bella, come è simpatica!</i>" said +he, with sparkling eyes, and he arranged as well as he could the +entangled curls round the forehead of the image.</p> + +<p>When the doctor went away Don Dionisio's anger had cooled, and again he +took up his position in the little portico in excellent spirits, quite +ready to fight both on the offensive and defensive for his Madonna's +sake. The same evening the doctor was told of a case of cholera in a +<i>fondaco</i> close by the street in which Don Dionisio lived, and he went +to look at it early the next morning. In passing by he saw the old +fellow already at his post, rubbing his hands and looking very cheerful, +and the doctor had not the heart to tell him then that even the +protecting presence of his Madonna had now failed. But Don Dionisio +waved his hand eagerly as soon as he caught sight of the doctor, and +when he was still some distance he called out, so as to be heard +throughout the whole lane, "<i>Ecco il colera!</i> See now what I have always +said! Here you have got it because you would not believe in La Madonna +del Buon Cammino; now you are all of you going to see what becomes of +those who believe more in the Madonna del Carmine than in her! <i>Ecco il +colera!</i> in our very midst, <i>Ecco il colera!</i>"</p> + +<p>The lane was full of people, who in trembling terror had fled out of +their houses to pray in the churches and before the shrines at the +street corners, and some of them stopped irresolutely in front of the +chapel to listen to Don Dionisio's threatening prophecy of death to +every one who had dared to brave the anger of the blessed Madonna del +Buon Cammino. The <i>fondaco</i> seemed quite empty, for as many as were +able had run away at the first alarm; but, guided by the sound of +praying voices, the doctor came at last to a dark hole, where the usual +sight met his eyes. Round the door some kneeling <i>commare</i><a name="FNanchor_38_38" id="FNanchor_38_38"></a><a href="#Footnote_38_38" class="fnanchor">[38]</a> in +earnest prayer; stretched out at full length upon the floor a mother +wringing her hands in despair; and in a corner the livid face of a +child, half-hidden under a heap of ragged coverings. The little girl was +quite cold, her eyelids half shut, and her pulse scarcely perceptible. +Now and again a convulsive trembling passed over her; but except for +that she lay there quite motionless and insensible—cholera! At the head +of the bed lay a picture of the Madonna del Carmine, and the doctor +gathered from the muttering of the women that the wonder-working Madonna +had been brought there the evening before. Now and then the mother +lifted her head and looked searchingly at the doctor, and it seemed to +him as if he could read something like confidence in her anguished eyes. +And yet it appeared as if he could do nothing. Ether-injections, +frictions, all the usual remedies proved fruitless to bring the warmth +of life back, and the pulse grew weaker and weaker. Again the doctor saw +to his surprise the same trusting expression in the mother's eyes when +she looked at him, and he determined to try his new remedy. He knew well +that in a case like this there was nothing to lose, for left to herself +the child was evidently dying; but for some time he had been pursued by +a wild idea that maybe there was everything still to gain. No one cared +any longer to watch what he did; the mother lay with her forehead +pressed against the floor, calling upon the Madonna with touching voice +to take her own life in exchange for the child's; and amongst the +<i>commare</i> the prayers had ceased and in their place a lively discussion +broken out as to whether it would not be better to fetch some other +Madonna, since the Madonna del Carmine would not help them in spite of +all their prayers, in spite of the candles before her image, in spite of +the mother's promise to dress the child in the Madonna's colour for a +whole year, if only it might live. The child was quite insensible, and +everything was easily done. When all was finished the doctor slightly +touched the mother's shoulder, and whilst she stared at him, as if she +hardly understood his words, he said that there was no time to lose if +they wished to fetch another Madonna, and he suggested that they should +send for the holy Madonna del Buon Cammino, whose chapel was close by. A +deep silence followed his words, and it was plain that his suggestion +did not meet with the smallest sympathy. He pretended to take their +silence for consent, and with a little difficulty succeeded in +persuading one of the women, whom he knew well, to go to the chapel of +the Madonna del Buon Cammino.</p> + +<p>Don Dionisio came like a shot with his Madonna in his arms. He put the +little oil-lamp at the feet of the image, and began eagerly to sing the +hymn to the honour of his Madonna, now and then casting a furious glance +at the image of her powerful rival, before which the mother still lay +outstretched; whilst by the door the women were muttering all sorts of +opprobrious remarks about his idol: "<i>Vatene farti un'altra gonnella, +poverella! Benedetto San Gennaro, che brutta faccia che l'hanno dato, +povera vecchia!</i>"<a name="FNanchor_39_39" id="FNanchor_39_39"></a><a href="#Footnote_39_39" class="fnanchor">[39]</a></p> + +<p>Suddenly they became quite silent, and in breathless amazement they all +stared at the doctor's pale waxen assistant in his fight for the +child's life. For from the closely compressed lips of the dying girl a +subdued moan was heard, and the half-opened eyes turned slowly towards +the Madonna del Buon Cammino. All crossed themselves repeatedly; and the +doctor perceived the child's pulse grow stronger, and the warmth of life +slowly begin to spread over the icy limbs. The terror of death began to +glow in her eyes, and she cried with half-broken voice: "<i>Salvatemi! +Salvatemi! Madonna Sanctissima!</i>"<a name="FNanchor_40_40" id="FNanchor_40_40"></a><a href="#Footnote_40_40" class="fnanchor">[40]</a></p> + +<p>With a louder voice Don Dionisio began again his song of praise, and all +round him now murmured the name of the blessed Madonna del Buon Cammino. +Don Dionisio left the <i>fondaco</i> about an hour afterwards, followed by a +procession of almost all its inhabitants. The child was then quite +conscious; and all agreed that the holy Madonna del Buon Cammino had +worked a miracle.</p> + +<p>The doctor sat for a good while longer at the child's side, watching +with the keenest interest the slow but sure return of its strength. Late +in the evening, when he looked in again, the improvement was so marked +that it was probable the child would live. Everywhere—in the <i>fondaco</i> +and in the alleys around—nothing was talked of but the new miracle; and +when the doctor went home he saw for the first time lights shining in +the chapel of the Madonna del Buon Cammino.</p> + +<p>He did not sleep a wink that night, for he could not keep his thoughts +away from what he had witnessed in the morning, and he could hardly +restrain his impatience to meet with a fresh case on which to repeat the +experiment.</p> + +<p>He had not to wait long. The same night another woman in the <i>fondaco</i> +was attacked, and when he saw her the next day she was already so bad +that it seemed as if she might die at any moment. His advice to fetch +the Madonna del Buon Cammino was taken now without hesitation, and +whilst everybody's attention was fixed upon Don Dionisio and his image, +the doctor could busy himself with his patient, undisturbed by any +suspicious and troublesome eyes.</p> + +<p>Here again a speedy and decided reaction set in, which became more and +more confirmed during the day; and that same evening the rumour spread +through the alleys of the Mercato of a second miracle by the +wonder-working Madonna del Buon Cammino.</p> + +<p>Thus began those strange never-to-be-forgotten days, when, insensible to +fatigue, yes! to hunger, the doctor went day and night from bed to bed, +borne as by strong wings of an idea which almost blinded his sight, and +made all his scepticism waver. He would come with Don Dionisio at his +heels to meet the usual sight of some poor half-dead creature for whom +it seemed as if human skill could do nothing, and when, an hour or two +later, the Madonna del Buon Cammino was carried away in solemn +procession, followed by the deepest devotion of the crowd, he would slip +out unnoticed, forgetful of everything, in silent wonder at the sudden +and constant improvement he had witnessed—an improvement which often +seemed like a rising from the dead.</p> + +<p>Ah! he had gone down there where it had seemed to him so easy to die, +just as easy as it had been to delude himself with the thought that he +had gone there only to help others. He had done very little for others, +but a good deal for himself—he had almost forgotten his own misery. His +experience of cholera was already wide enough, he knew about as much as +others knew. He knew that fate reigns over death as over life. Method +after method he had tried honestly and conscientiously, and he had +learnt that in spite of Koch, in spite of the microbes, his ignorance +was as great as ever when it came to the treatment of a cholera patient. +So he had wandered round the quarters of Naples with remedies in his +hands in which he did not believe himself, and words of encouragement +and confidence on his lips, but hopeless scepticism in his heart.</p> + +<p>And now this last experiment, so bold that he had almost shrunk from +trying it, which had resulted in an unbroken series of successes in the +midst of an epidemic with an enormous mortality! Once again he was a +doctor and nothing more. With redoubled zeal he followed every case, +scarcely for a minute did he leave his patient's side, and with +increasing excitement he watched every symptom, every detail, with his +former scepticism—and yet the fact remained, for a whole week not a +single fatal case!</p> + +<p>He had almost forgotten that Don Dionisio and the Madonna del Buon +Cammino followed his footsteps—he had forgotten them as he had +forgotten himself. Now and then his vacant eyes would fall upon the +unconscious assistant at his side, and he felt glad that he had been +able to give the old man a share in his success. Don Dionisio seemed to +need no more rest than the doctor, day and night he was going about with +his Madonna. His face shone with ecstasy, and he enjoyed to the full his +short happiness.</p> + +<p>The Madonna del Buon Cammino was now clothed in a flame-coloured silken +mantle, a diadem of showy glass beads encircled her brow, and round her +neck, strung upon a cord, hung numbers of rings and gold ear-rings. +Night and day votive candles were lighted in her chapel, and on the +walls, so naked before, hung <i>ex votos</i> of all possible kinds, +thank-offerings for deliverance from sickness and death. The chapel was +always full of people, praying fervently on their knees for help from +that mighty Madonna who had performed so many miracles, and who +stretched out her protecting hand over the street. For, to his +amazement, the doctor had heard Don Dionisio prophesy that as long as +the lights burned in the chapel of the Madonna del Buon Cammino, the +cholera would never dare to approach her street.</p> + +<p>It was now that the poor people of Naples were to suffer their deepest +misery, that the infection, swift as fire, broke out all over the alleys +and slums of the four poor quarters. It was now that people fell down in +the street as if they had been struck by lightning; that the dying and +dead lay side by side in almost every house; that the omnibuses of +Portici, filled with the day's death-harvest, were driven every evening +up to the Campo Santo dei Colerosi,<a name="FNanchor_41_41" id="FNanchor_41_41"></a><a href="#Footnote_41_41" class="fnanchor">[41]</a> where over a thousand corpses +every night filled the enormous grave. It was now that trembling hands +broke down the walls with which modern times had hidden the old shrines +at the street corners, that the people in wild fury stormed the Duomo to +force the priests to carry San Gennaro himself down to their alleys. It +was now that anxiety reached the borders of frenzy, that despair began +to howl like rage, that from trembling lips prayers and curses fell in +alternating confusion, that knives gleamed in hands which just before +had convulsively grasped rosary and crucifix.</p> + +<p>The doctor and his friend went on their way as before, undisturbed by +the increasing terrors which surrounded them. And wherever they went +Death gave way before them. The doctor needed all his self-control to +enable him still to maintain his doubts, and before his eyes he saw like +a mirage the goal which his daring dreams already reached. As for Don +Dionisio, no questioning doubt had ever awakened his slumbering freedom +of thought, and long ago the doctor had given up all attempts to +restrain the old fellow's joyous conviction of his victory.</p> + +<p>The epidemic had now reached its highest point, almost every house in +the quarter was infected, and still Don Dionisio's prophecy held good, +for not a single case had occurred in the street of the Madonna del Buon +Cammino.</p> + +<p>The doctor had been told by a <i>commare</i> that in one of the <i>bassi</i> in +Orto del Conte lay a dying woman, and that her husband had been +<i>avvelenato</i><a name="FNanchor_42_42" id="FNanchor_42_42"></a><a href="#Footnote_42_42" class="fnanchor">[42]</a> in the hospital the day before. He went there the same +evening, but it was with great difficulty that he succeeded in getting +through the hostile crowd which had assembled in front of the infected +house. He heard that the husband had been removed almost by force to +the hospital, that he had there died, and that when, a couple of hours +afterwards, they had tried to remove his wife too, who had been attacked +in the night, the people had opposed it, a <i>carabiniere</i> had been +stabbed, and the others had had to save their lives by flight. As usual, +the unfortunate doctors bore the blame of all the evil, and he heard all +around him in the crowd the well-known epithets of "Ammazzacane!" +"Assassino!"<a name="FNanchor_43_43" id="FNanchor_43_43"></a><a href="#Footnote_43_43" class="fnanchor">[43]</a> "Avvelenatore!"<a name="FNanchor_44_44" id="FNanchor_44_44"></a><a href="#Footnote_44_44" class="fnanchor">[44]</a> After several fruitless efforts to +gain their confidence and make friends with them, he had no choice but +to give up all attempts of helping the sick woman and to wait till Don +Dionisio came. As soon as he entered the room the attention of every one +was at once fixed upon him and his Madonna, and they all fell on their +knees and prayed fervently, without caring in the least about either the +patient or the doctor. The woman was in <i>Stadium algidum</i>,<a name="FNanchor_45_45" id="FNanchor_45_45"></a><a href="#Footnote_45_45" class="fnanchor">[45]</a> but her +pulse was still perceptible. Strong in the confidence of his previous +successes, the doctor went to work. He had hardly finished before the +heart began to flag. Just as Don Dionisio with triumphant voice +announced that the miracle was done, the death-agony began, and it was +with the greatest difficulty that the doctor could keep up the action of +the heart until the Madonna del Buon Cammino had left the house, +followed by the crowd outside in solemn procession. Shortly afterwards +the doctor slipped out of the house like a thief, and ran for his life +to the corner of the Via del Duomo, where he knew he would be in safety.</p> + +<p>The same night three of his patients died. He did his utmost to prevent +Don Dionisio accompanying him the following day, but in vain. Every one +of the sick he visited and treated that day died under his eyes.</p> + +<p>The wings which had borne him during those days had fallen from his +shoulders, and dead tired he wandered home in the evening with Don +Dionisio at his side. They said good-night to each other in front of the +chapel of the Madonna del Buon Cammino, and in the flickering light of +the lamp before her shrine the doctor saw a deathly pallor spread over +his friend's face. The old man tottered and fell, with the Madonna in +his arms. The doctor carried him into the chapel and laid him upon the +straw bed where he slept, in a corner behind a curtain. He placed the +Madonna del Buon Cammino carefully on her stand, and poured oil for the +night into the little lamp which burned over her head. Don Dionisio +motioned with his hand to be moved nearer, and the doctor dragged his +bed forward to the pedestal of the image. "<i>Come è bella, come è +simpatica!</i>" said he, with feeble voice. He lay there quite motionless +and silent, with his eyes intently fixed upon his beloved Madonna. The +doctor sat all night long by his side, whilst his strength diminished +more and more and he slowly grew cold. One votive candle after another +flickered and went out, and the shadows fell deeper and deeper in the +chapel of the Madonna del Buon Cammino. Then it became all dark, and +only the little oil-lamp as of old spread its trembling light over the +pale waxen image with the impassive smile upon her rigid features.</p> + +<p>The next day the doctor fainted in the street, and was picked up and +taken to the Cholera Hospital. And, indomitable as fate, death swept +over the street of the Madonna del Buon Cammino, over Vicolo del Monaco. +For it was Vicolo del Monaco—that name which filled Naples with terror, +and which, through the newspapers, was known to the whole world as the +place where the cholera raged in its fiercest form.<a name="FNanchor_46_46" id="FNanchor_46_46"></a><a href="#Footnote_46_46" class="fnanchor">[46]</a></p> + +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> + +<p>The dark little chapel which sheltered the old visionary's confused +devotion has been razed to the ground by the new order of things which +has dawned over Naples at last, and Vicolo del Monaco is no more. Don +Dionisio sank unconscious from the dim thought-world of his superstition +into the impenetrable darkness of the great grave up there on the Campo +Santo dei Colerosi.</p> + +<p>The other, the fool, who for a moment had believed he could command +Death to stop short in his triumphant march, he is still alive, but with +the bitter vision of reality for all time shadowing his sight. So will +he sink, he also, into the great grave of oblivion; and of all those +who lived and suffered in the Vicolo del Monaco nothing will +remain—nothing.</p> + +<p>But behind a curtain in some dark little chapel stands the Madonna del +Buon Cammino, with the impassive smile upon her rigid features.</p> + +<br /> +<h3>THE END</h3> + +<br /> +<h4><i>Printed by</i> <span class="smcap">R. & R. Clark, Limited</span>, <i>Edinburgh</i></h4> + + +<div class="footnotes"> +<h4>FOOTNOTES:</h4> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_1_1" id="Footnote_1_1"></a><a href="#FNanchor_1_1"><span class="label">[1]</span></a> "Toys, from the Paris Horizon" was published in <i>Blackwood</i> +several years ago.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_2_2" id="Footnote_2_2"></a><a href="#FNanchor_2_2"><span class="label">[2]</span></a> This article was printed in <i>Murray's Magazine</i> several +years ago.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_3_3" id="Footnote_3_3"></a><a href="#FNanchor_3_3"><span class="label">[3]</span></a> An uncanny little invention which, manipulated by hundreds +of street boys, ran all along the Boulevards during the first week of +the New Year. It is about the size of a thimble and costs four sous. As +the Eastern question still commands the attention of Europe, we shall +probably be favoured with it again this winter. To be correct, I must +here state that this attractive toy is also offered for sale under the +name of <i>Le dernier soupir de la Belle Mère</i>.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_4_4" id="Footnote_4_4"></a><a href="#FNanchor_4_4"><span class="label">[4]</span></a> The German toys pay, since 1871, the ridiculous duty of +sixty francs per hundred kilo.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_5_5" id="Footnote_5_5"></a><a href="#FNanchor_5_5"><span class="label">[5]</span></a> The doll <i>à treize sous</i> is a characteristic Parisian type; +she belongs to the family of <i>poupards</i> and is usually made of +papier-mâché or wood. After the making of the head the creative power of +the artist comes to a sudden stand-still; the rest of the body is only a +sketch and loses itself in an oblong chaos.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_6_6" id="Footnote_6_6"></a><a href="#FNanchor_6_6"><span class="label">[6]</span></a> "This is for friends."</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_7_7" id="Footnote_7_7"></a><a href="#FNanchor_7_7"><span class="label">[7]</span></a> "What nice things, what nice things, how good this milk +with sugar is! Don't cry, my darling, it is ready now!"</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_8_8" id="Footnote_8_8"></a><a href="#FNanchor_8_8"><span class="label">[8]</span></a> "The milk first, the milk first—never mind, take one."</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_9_9" id="Footnote_9_9"></a><a href="#FNanchor_9_9"><span class="label">[9]</span></a> The lower classes in Italy still use bleeding for all kinds +of diseases, and this treatment is also extended to animals. I knew a +monkey in Naples who was bled twice.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_10_10" id="Footnote_10_10"></a><a href="#FNanchor_10_10"><span class="label">[10]</span></a> <i>Letters from a Mourning City</i>, by Axel Munthe. John +Murray: London, 1887.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_11_11" id="Footnote_11_11"></a><a href="#FNanchor_11_11"><span class="label">[11]</span></a> "Here I stand on a rocky shore!"</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_12_12" id="Footnote_12_12"></a><a href="#FNanchor_12_12"><span class="label">[12]</span></a> The old means of communication between Capri and Naples. +Unfortunately replaced by an ugly little steamer.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_13_13" id="Footnote_13_13"></a><a href="#FNanchor_13_13"><span class="label">[13]</span></a> Perhaps you are not aware of the common practice in +menageries of keeping a rabbit in the monkey's cage for the sake of +warmth.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_14_14" id="Footnote_14_14"></a><a href="#FNanchor_14_14"><span class="label">[14]</span></a> "Is it not true that he is better to-night?"</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_15_15" id="Footnote_15_15"></a><a href="#FNanchor_15_15"><span class="label">[15]</span></a> "He lies always buried in thought."</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_16_16" id="Footnote_16_16"></a><a href="#FNanchor_16_16"><span class="label">[16]</span></a> "The punishment of God."</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_17_17" id="Footnote_17_17"></a><a href="#FNanchor_17_17"><span class="label">[17]</span></a> "Mamma cries so."</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_18_18" id="Footnote_18_18"></a><a href="#FNanchor_18_18"><span class="label">[18]</span></a> The landlord can take everything in such cases except the +bed and the clothes.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_19_19" id="Footnote_19_19"></a><a href="#FNanchor_19_19"><span class="label">[19]</span></a> "Do you know, doctor?"</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_20_20" id="Footnote_20_20"></a><a href="#FNanchor_20_20"><span class="label">[20]</span></a> Scoundrels and poisoners.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_21_21" id="Footnote_21_21"></a><a href="#FNanchor_21_21"><span class="label">[21]</span></a> The then manager of the Théâtre Français.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_22_22" id="Footnote_22_22"></a><a href="#FNanchor_22_22"><span class="label">[22]</span></a> "<i>Il met son bonnet</i>"—the guides' usual and sufficiently +characteristic metaphor referring to that little cloud which suddenly +covers the summit of Mont Blanc—it announces a storm. It looks its best +from a certain distance.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_23_23" id="Footnote_23_23"></a><a href="#FNanchor_23_23"><span class="label">[23]</span></a> Heine.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_24_24" id="Footnote_24_24"></a><a href="#FNanchor_24_24"><span class="label">[24]</span></a> The harbour of refuge for most of the shipwrecked ones who +still can and will work. The street scavengers of Paris are to a great +extent Italians.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_25_25" id="Footnote_25_25"></a><a href="#FNanchor_25_25"><span class="label">[25]</span></a> I was for ten years the confidant, the friend, and the +doctor to most of the poor Italians in Paris, the greater number of whom +are models. My experience during these years was a terrible one. Nine +years in Rome have made the evidence still more conclusive. Of English +models I know nothing and have nothing to say.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_26_26" id="Footnote_26_26"></a><a href="#FNanchor_26_26"><span class="label">[26]</span></a> I write here as I talk here—not Italian but Capri +dialect. The old Emperor, who lived on the island for eleven years, is +never called Tiberio here, but "Timberio."</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_27_27" id="Footnote_27_27"></a><a href="#FNanchor_27_27"><span class="label">[27]</span></a> Our friend old Mr. X——, for fifteen years the delight +and ornament of the Piazza of Capri, always cheerful, always thirsty, a +great destroyer of quails and wine-bottles, now at last gone to rest in +the quiet little field outside the town of Capri, where the sombre green +of some laurel and cypress-trees stands out between the waving branches +of his favourite plant, the vine. Old Spadaro is still alive, and will +tell you all about his lamented master.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_28_28" id="Footnote_28_28"></a><a href="#FNanchor_28_28"><span class="label">[28]</span></a> Quail bishop. Capri no longer owns a bishop, but the quail +harvest still forms one—and perhaps the most important—item of the +island's revenue.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_29_29" id="Footnote_29_29"></a><a href="#FNanchor_29_29"><span class="label">[29]</span></a> Few strangers visit the grotto of Mitromania, the name of +which may be derived from <i>Magnum Mitrae Antrum</i>. It faces east, and the +first rays of the sun light up its mysterious gloom. One knows from +excavations made here that once upon a time the old, yet ever young, +sun-god was worshipped in this cave.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_30_30" id="Footnote_30_30"></a><a href="#FNanchor_30_30"><span class="label">[30]</span></a> Leopardi.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_31_31" id="Footnote_31_31"></a><a href="#FNanchor_31_31"><span class="label">[31]</span></a> Pumaroli-pomidoro, <i>i.e.</i> tomato, the Southern Italian's +favourite fruit, the most important ingredient in everything he eats, +sweetening the monotony of his macaroni.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_32_32" id="Footnote_32_32"></a><a href="#FNanchor_32_32"><span class="label">[32]</span></a> "Let us be off."</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_33_33" id="Footnote_33_33"></a><a href="#FNanchor_33_33"><span class="label">[33]</span></a> The alarm-bell used to be rung from the old tower to warn +the shores of the gulf of the approach of pirates.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_34_34" id="Footnote_34_34"></a><a href="#FNanchor_34_34"><span class="label">[34]</span></a> "How beautiful, how sympathetic she is!"</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_35_35" id="Footnote_35_35"></a><a href="#FNanchor_35_35"><span class="label">[35]</span></a> "Madonna del Carmine indeed!"</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_36_36" id="Footnote_36_36"></a><a href="#FNanchor_36_36"><span class="label">[36]</span></a> "Your Madonna has not even got any hair on her head!"</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_37_37" id="Footnote_37_37"></a><a href="#FNanchor_37_37"><span class="label">[37]</span></a> "They say she has got no hair! but we shall soon see who +has the most beautiful hair!"</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_38_38" id="Footnote_38_38"></a><a href="#FNanchor_38_38"><span class="label">[38]</span></a> Gossips.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_39_39" id="Footnote_39_39"></a><a href="#FNanchor_39_39"><span class="label">[39]</span></a> "Go and make thyself another gown, poor thing! Blessed San +Gennaro, what an ugly face they have given her, poor old creature!"</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_40_40" id="Footnote_40_40"></a><a href="#FNanchor_40_40"><span class="label">[40]</span></a> "Save me, save me, most holy Madonna!"</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_41_41" id="Footnote_41_41"></a><a href="#FNanchor_41_41"><span class="label">[41]</span></a> Cholera cemetery.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_42_42" id="Footnote_42_42"></a><a href="#FNanchor_42_42"><span class="label">[42]</span></a> Poisoned.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_43_43" id="Footnote_43_43"></a><a href="#FNanchor_43_43"><span class="label">[43]</span></a> "Dog-murderer!" "Assassin!"</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_44_44" id="Footnote_44_44"></a><a href="#FNanchor_44_44"><span class="label">[44]</span></a> "Poisoner!"</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_45_45" id="Footnote_45_45"></a><a href="#FNanchor_45_45"><span class="label">[45]</span></a> The state of collapse, characteristic of cholera, when the +body becomes cold.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_46_46" id="Footnote_46_46"></a><a href="#FNanchor_46_46"><span class="label">[46]</span></a> Almost the whole alley died. An official report stated +that there were over thirty cases in a single hour.</p></div> + +</div> + + +<br /><br /> +<b>Transcriber's Notes:</b><br /> +- hyphenation, spelling and grammar have been preserved as in the +original (other than as listed below)<br /> +- Italian and Neapolitan sentences have been preserved as in the +original (other than as listed below)<br /> +Page 72, straight down there?' ==> straight down there?"<br /> +Page 158, foremost to defend.' ==> foremost to defend."<br /> +Page 186, et de Mise en Scéne ==> et de Mise en Scène<br /> +Page 251, Don Petrucchio's Farmacia ==> Don Petruccio's Farmacia<br /> +Page 293, un altra gonnella ==> un'altra gonnella<br /> +Page 303, give up all attemps ==> give up all attempts + + + + + + + + +<pre> + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Vagaries, by Axel Munthe + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK VAGARIES *** + +***** This file should be named 38894-h.htm or 38894-h.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + https://www.gutenberg.org/3/8/8/9/38894/ + +Produced by Barbara Watson, Ross Cooling and the Online +Distributed Proofreading Canada Team at +http://www.pgdpcanada.net (This file was produced from +images generously made available by The Internet +Archive/Canadian Libraries) + + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: Vagaries + +Author: Axel Munthe + +Release Date: February 15, 2012 [EBook #38894] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ASCII + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK VAGARIES *** + + + + +Produced by Barbara Watson, Ross Cooling and the Online +Distributed Proofreading Canada Team at +http://www.pgdpcanada.net (This file was produced from +images generously made available by The Internet +Archive/Canadian Libraries) + + + + + + + + + + VAGARIES + + + By AXEL MUNTHE + AUTHOR OF 'LETTERS FROM A MOURNING CITY' + + + + LONDON + JOHN MURRAY, ALBEMARLE STREET + 1898 + + + + + INSTEAD OF A PREFACE + + +He who has written these pages is no author; his life belongs to +reality, and does not leave him any peace for indulging in fiction, and, +besides, he has for nearly twenty years limited his best thoughts and +efforts to that special authorship which has for its only public +apothecaries. He thought it very easy and refreshing to write this +little book. The only difficulty about it has been to find a title, for +it turned out that, when confronted with this problem, neither the +writer nor any of the friends he consulted could say what stuff it was +that the book was made of--was it essays, stories, or what? Essays is +much too important a word for me to use, and stories it certainly is +not, for I cannot remember having ever tried to invent anything. + +Besides, isn't it so that in a story something always happens--and here, +as a rule, very little seems to me to happen. I do not know, but can it +be that it is life itself which "happens" in these pages, life as seen +by an individual who can but try to be as the Immortal Gods created him, +since conventionality long ago has given up in despair all hope of +licking him into shape? + +Now I want to tell you what made me publish this book--what made me +write it cannot interest you. One day I found sitting in my +consulting-room a young lady with a huge parcel on her knee. I asked her +what I could do for her, and she began by telling me a long tale of woe +about herself. She said that nothing interested her, nothing amused +her, she was bored to death by everything and everybody. She could get +anything she wished to have, she could go anywhere she liked, but she +did not wish for anything, she did not want to go anywhere. + +Her life was passed in idle luxury, useless to herself and to everybody +else, said she. Her parents had ended by dragging her from one physician +to another: one had prescribed Egypt, where they had spent the whole +winter; another Cannes, where they had bought a big villa; a third India +and Japan, which they had visited in their fine yacht. "But you are the +only doctor who has done me any good," she said. "I have felt more +happiness during this past week than I have done for years. I owe it to +you, and I have come to thank you for it." She began rapidly to unfasten +her parcel, and I stared at her in amazement while she produced from it +one big doll after another, and quite unceremoniously placed them in a +row on my writing-table amongst all my books and papers. There were +twelve dolls in all, and you never saw such dolls. Some of them were +dressed in well-fitting tailor-made jackets and skirts; some were +evidently off for a yachting trip in blue serge suits and sailor hats; +some wore smart silk dresses covered with lace and frills, and hats +trimmed with huge ostrich feathers; and some looked as if they had only +just returned from the Queen's Drawing-room. + +I am accustomed to have queer people in my consulting-room, and I +thought I noticed something glistening in her eyes. "You see, Doctor," +said she with uncertain voice, "I never thought I could be of any good +to anybody. I used to send money to charities at home, but all I did +was to write out a cheque, and I cannot say I ever felt the slightest +satisfaction in doing it. The other day I happened to come across that +article about Toys in an old _Blackwood's Magazine_,[1] and since then I +have been working from morning till evening to dress up all these dolls +for the poor children you spoke about. I have done it all by myself, and +I have felt so strangely happy the whole time." + +And I, who had forgotten all about this little escapade from the toil of +my everyday life, I looked at the sweet face smiling through the tears, +I looked at the long row of dolls who stared approvingly at me from +among all my medical paraphernalia on the writing-table. And for the +first and last time in my life did I feel the ineffable joy of literary +triumph, for the first and last time in my life did I feel that mystic +power of being able to move others. + +A smart carriage was waiting for her at the door, but we sent it away, +and I put the kind donor and some of her dolls in a cab, and I remember +we went to see Petruccio. I could see by her shyness that it was the +first time she had entered the home of the poor. She gave each child a +magnificent doll, and she blushed with delight when she saw the little +sisters' beaming faces and heard the poor mother's "God bless you!" +Hardly had a week passed before she brought me another dozen of dolls, +and twelve more sick and destitute children forgot all about their +misery. At Christmas I got up a big festa at the Jardin-des-Plantes +quarter, where most of the poor Italians live, and the Christmas-tree +was loaded with dolls of all sizes and descriptions. She went on +bringing me more and more dolls, and there came a time when I did not +know what to do with them, for I had more dolls than patients. Every +chair and table in my rooms was occupied by a doll, and people asked me +to show them "the dear children," and when I told them I was a bachelor +and had not got any they would not believe me. To tell you the truth, +when spring came I sent the lady to St. Moritz for change of air. I have +never seen her since, but should she come across this book she may know +that it was she and her dolls who decided its publication, and it is in +her honour I have given the Toy article the first place. + +There is nothing like success. Some time ago I received a letter from a +man I do not know, who wrote me that he was the mayor of a large town. +He said that after having read a little paper called "For those who love +Music"[2] he had revoked the order which forbade organ-grinders to play +in the streets of his town, and had told his children always to give the +old man a penny, for "perhaps it is Don Gaetano!" I admit I was +immensely flattered by this, and in honour of the kind mayor I have +placed his paper second. + +But is this to be the end of my literary fame, or will any other +laurel-leaf mark some hitherto unpublished page of this volume? What +about "Blackcock-shooting"? Will ever an English mother write to me that +she is teaching her son that he can grow up every inch a man without +having ever killed a half-tame pheasant or a grouse, or stealthily crept +up to murder a beautiful stag? + +I have not heard from the Germans in Capri yet, but when that letter +comes I believe my literary ambition will have reached its zenith, and +that I shall relapse into silence again. + + Rome, _Spring_ 1898. + +[Footnote 1: "Toys, from the Paris Horizon" was published in _Blackwood_ +several years ago.] + +[Footnote 2: This article was printed in _Murray's Magazine_ several +years ago.] + + + + + CONTENTS + + PAGE + + Toys 1 + + For those who love Music 24 + + Political Agitations in Capri 44 + + Menagerie 78 + + Italy in Paris 102 + + Blackcock-shooting 125 + + To ---- 158 + + Monsieur Alfredo 169 + + Mont Blanc, King of the Mountains 192 + + Raffaella 206 + + The Dogs in Capri, an interior 224 + + Zoology 253 + + Hypochondria 262 + + La Madonna del Buon Cammino 280 + + + + + VAGARIES + + TOYS + + FROM THE PARIS HORIZON + + +In Paris the New Year is awakened by the laughter of children, the dawn +of its first day glows in rosy joy on small round cheeks, and lit up by +the light from children's sparkling eyes, the curtain rises upon the +fairy world of toys. + +This world of toys is a faithful miniature of our own, the same +perpetual evolution, the same struggle for existence, goes on there as +here. Types rise and vanish just as with us; the strongest and +best-fitted individuals survive, defying time, whilst the weaker and +less gifted are supplanted and die out. + +To the former, for instance, belongs the doll, whose individual type +centuries may have modified, but whose idea is eternal, whose soul lives +on with the imperishable youth of the gods. The doll is thousands of +years old; it has been found in the graves of little Roman children, and +the archaeologists of coming generations will find it amongst the remains +of our culture. The children of Pompeii and Herculaneum used to trundle +hoops just as you and I did when we were small, and who knows whether +the rocking-horse on which we rode as boys is not a lineal descendant of +that proud charger into whose wooden flanks the children of Francis I. +dug their heels. The drum is also inaccessible to the variation of time; +through centuries it has beaten the Christmas and New Year's day's +reveille in the nursery to the battles of the tin-soldiers, and it will +continue to beat as long as there are boys' arms to wield the +drum-sticks and grown-up people's tympanums to be deafened. The +tin-soldier views the future with calm; he will not lay down his arms +until the day of the general disarmament, and we are still a long way +from universal peace. Neither will the toy-sword disappear; it is the +nursery-symbol of the ineradicable vice of our race, the lust for +fighting. Foolscap-crowned and bell-ringing harlequins will also defy +time; they will exist in the toy-world as long as there are fools in our +world. Gold-laced knights with big swords at their sides, curly-locked +princesses with satin shoes on dainty feet, stalwart musketeers with top +boots and big moustachios--all are types which still hold their own +pretty well. The Japanese doll is as yet young, but a brilliant future +lies before her. + +Amongst the toy-people who are gradually diminishing may be mentioned +monks, hobgoblins, and kings--an evil omen for the matter of that. I +don't wish to make any one uneasy, but it is a fact that the demand for +kings has considerably decreased of late--my studies in toy-anthropology +do not allow me the slightest doubt on this subject. It is not for me to +try to explain the cause of this serious phenomenon--I understand well +that this topic is a painful one, and shall not persist. + +Hobgoblins--who in our world are growing more and more ill at ease since +the locomotives began to pant through the forests, and who have sought +and found a refuge in the toy-world, in picture-books, and +fairy-tales--they begin to decrease, even they; they do not leap any +longer with the same wild energy when they are let loose out of their +boxes, and they do not know how to inspire the same terrifying respect +as before. They are doomed to die; a few generations more and wet-nurses +and nursery-maids will be studying physics, and then there will be an +end to hobgoblins and Jack-in-the-boxes! For my part I shall regret +them. + +Our social life expresses itself even through toys, and the rising +generation writes the history of its civilisation in the children's +books. Our age is the age of scientific inquiry, and its sons have no +time for dreams; the generation which is growing up moves in a world of +thought totally different from ours. Nowadays Tom Thumb is left to take +care of himself in the trackless forest, and poor Robinson Crusoe, with +whom we kept such faithful company, is feeling more and more lonely on +his desert island with our common friend Friday and the patient goat +whose neck we so often patted in our dreams. Nowadays boy-thoughts +travel with Phileas Fogg _Round the World in Eighty Days_, or undertake +fearlessly a journey to the moon with carefully calculated pace of I +don't know how many miles in a second, and their knapsacks stuffed with +physical science. Nowadays a little future Edison sits meditating in +his nursery laboratory, trying to stun a fly beneath the bell of a +little air-pump, or he communicates with his little sister by means of a +lilliputian telephone--when we only knew how to besiege toy-fortresses +with pop-guns and arrange tin-soldiers' battles, limiting our scientific +inquiries to that bloodless vivisection which consisted in ripping up +the stomachs of all our dolls and pulling to pieces everything we came +across to find out what was inside. These scientific toys were almost +unknown some ten years ago,--these _jouets scientifiques_ which now rank +so high in toy-shops, and offer perhaps the greatest attraction for the +children of the present. _The tranquillity of parents and the education +of children_ is the device on these toys--yes, there is no doubt that +the children's instruction has been thought of, but their imagination, +what is to become of that, now that even Christmas presents give +lessons in chemistry and physics? And all this artificially increased +modern thirst for knowledge, does it not destroy the germ of romance +which was implanted in the child's mind? does it not drive away that +rosy poetry of dreamland which is the morning glow of the awakening +thought? Maybe I am wrong, but it sometimes seems to me that there is +less laughter in the nurseries now than before, that the children's +faces are growing more earnest. And if I am to be quite frank I must +confess that I fight rather shy of these modern toys, and have never +bought any of them for my little friends. + +The same claim for reality which has brought forward these scientific +toys is also shown in the multitude of political characters one comes +across in the toy-world--Bismarck, with his bloodshot eyes and three +tufts of hair; the "Zulu," the "Boer," etc. etc. The famous Tonquin +treasures have not yet been brought to light, but we have long ago made +acquaintance with the Tonquinese and his long nose like Mons. Jules +Ferry; and the recent trouble in the Balkan states resulted in last +year's novelty, _le cri de Bulgare_.[3] + +Do not, however, imagine that the _role_ of politics in the toy-world is +limited to this--it is far more extensive, far more important. I now +mean to dwell on this question for a moment or two, and wish to say a +few words concerning _the political agitations of the toy-world_. + +The political agitations of the toy-world--a weighty, and hitherto +rather neglected topic--are like the swell, following the political +storms which agitate our own world. The horizon which here opens before +the eyes of the observer is, however, too vast to be framed in this +small paper. I therefore propose to limit the subject to _the French +toy-politics after l'annee terrible_ (1870-71). + +The war between Germany and France is over long ago, but the toy-world +still resounds with the echo of the clash of arms of 1870; fighting +still continues with unabated ardour in the lilliputian world, where the +Bismarcks and the Moltkes of the German toy-manufactories each Christmas +fight new battles with _l'Article de Paris_. + +Victorious by virtue of their cheapness, the Germans advance. From the +Black Forest descend every Christmas hordes of wooden oxen, sheep, +horses, and dogs to measure themselves against the wares of the +wood-carvers of the Vosges (_St. Claude, etc. etc._). From Hamburg, +Nuremburg, and Berlin emigrate every winter thousands of dolls to +dispute the favour of the buyers with their French colleagues, and every +Christmas dense squadrons of spike-helmeted Prussian tin-soldiers cross +the Rhine to invade the toy-shops and nurseries of France. The struggle +is unequal, the competition too great. Siebenburgen and Tyrol furnish at +will a complete chemist's shop, a plentifully-supplied grocery store, or +a well-stocked farm with crops and implements, cows, sheep, and goats +grazing on the verdant pasture, for three francs fifty centimes. Hamburg +at the same moderate price offers a doll irreproachable to the +superficial observer, a doll with glass eyes, curly hair, and one change +of clothes, whilst the little Parisienne has already spent double that +sum on her toilet alone, and therefore cannot condescend to be yours for +less than half a louis d'or. Nuremburg mobilises a whole regiment of +tin-soldiers, baggage waggons, and artillery (Krupp model), included, +at the same price for which the toy-arsenals of Marais set on foot one +single battalion of "Chasseurs d'Afrique." + +The situation is gloomy--the French toys retire all along the line. + +But France will never be annihilated! And if the depths of a French +tin-soldier's soul were sounded, there would be found under the surface +of reserve exacted by discipline, the same glorious dreams of revenge +which inspired the volunteers raised by Gambetta from out of the earth. +The French tin-soldier looks towards the east; he knows that he is still +powerless to stop the invasion of the German toy-hordes--he is bound by +Article 4 in the Frankfort treaty of peace, but he bides his time.[4] + +And Revenge is near. This time also the signal for rising has been given +from Belleville, by a Gambetta of the toy-world. Some years ago a poor +workman at Belleville got a sudden idea, an idea that since then has +engendered an army which would realise the dream of eternal peace, and +keep in check the assembled troops of all Europe were it a question of +number alone. He sets on foot 5,000,000 soldiers a year. The origin of +these soldiers is humble, but so was Napoleon's. They spring from old +sardine boxes. Thrown away on the dust-heap, the sardine box is saved +from annihilation by the dust-man, who sells it to a rag-merchant in +Belleville or Buttes Chaumont, who in his turn disposes of it to a +specialist, who prepares it for the manufactories. The warriors are cut +out of the bottom of the box. The lid and sides are used for making +guns, railway-carriages, bicycles, etc. etc. All this may seem to you +very unimportant at first sight, but there is now in Belleville a large +manufactory founded on this idea of utilising old sardine boxes, which +occupies no less than two hundred workmen and produces every year over +two milliards of tin toys. I went there the other day, and no one +suspecting that I was a political correspondent, I was admitted without +difficulty to view the gigantic arsenal and its 5,000,000 warriors. The +poor workman out of whose head the fully-armed tin-soldiers +sprung--_via_ the sardine box--is now a rich man, and, what is more, an +eager and keen-sighted patriot, who in his sphere has deserved well of +his country. After retreating for years the French tin-soldiers once +more advance; the German spiked-helmets retire every Christmas from the +conquered positions in French nurseries, and maybe the time is not far +off when the tricolour shall wave over the toy-shops of Berlin--a small +revanche _en attendant_ the great one. + +Many years have elapsed since the enemy placed his heel upon the neck of +fallen France, but still to-day Paris is the metropolis of human +culture. Competition has led the Article de Paris to a commercial Sedan, +and from a financial point of view _le jouet Parisien_ no longer belongs +to the great powers of the toy-world. But the Paris doll will never +admit the superiority of her German rival; she bears the stamp of +nobility on her brow, and she means to rule the doll-world as before by +right of her undisputed rank and her artistic refinement. It surely +needs very little human knowledge to distinguish her at once, the +graceful Parisienne with her _fin sourire_ and her expressive eyes, from +one of the dull beauties of Nuremburg or Hamburg, who, by the +stereotyped grin on her carmine lips, and the staring, vacant eyes, +immediately reveals her Teutonic origin. Should any hesitation be +possible a glance at her feet will suffice--the Parisienne's foot is +small and dainty, and she is always shod with a certain coquetry, whilst +the daughter of Germany is characteristically careless of her +_chaussure--tout comme chez nous_, for the matter of that. As for the +rest of her wardrobe--to leave the anthropological side of the +question--Germany, in spite of her war indemnity of five milliards, is +incapable of producing a tasteful doll-toilet; the delicate fingers of a +Paris grisette are required for this. It is therefore considered the +proper thing among German dolls of fashion to import their dresses from +some doll-Worth in Paris. I can even tell you in parenthesis that the +really distinguished German dolls not only send to Paris for their +dresses but also for their heads. The German doll manufacturers, +incapable themselves of producing pretty and expressive doll faces, buy +their dolls' heads by retail from the porcelain factories of Montreux +and St. Maurice, where they are modelled by first-rate artists, such as +a Carrier-Belleuse and others. + +Up till now I have confined myself to the upper classes of doll society, +but even amongst the well-to-do middle-class dolls of ten to fifteen +francs apiece, the difference between German and French is palpable at +first sight. The further one descends into the lower regions of society, +in the doll _bourgeoisie_, the less clear becomes the national type. I +will undertake, however, to recognise my French friend even amongst +dolls of five francs apiece. To determine the nationality of a one-franc +doll, it is necessary to possess great preliminary knowledge and much +natural aptitude. For the benefit of future explorers in these still +obscure regions of anthropology I may here point out an important item +in the necessary physical examination--the doll must be shaken. If there +is a rattling inside she is probably French, for the Paris grisettes who +make these dolls have a habit of putting some pebbles inside them, +which, I am told, tends to develop the taste for vivisection amongst the +rising generation. + +Lower down in the series where the transition type of Darwin is found, +where the doll is without either arms or legs, and where every trace of +soul has died out from her impassive wooden face, stamped with the same +passion-free calm which characterises the marble folk of antiquity, or +where an unconscious smile alone glides over the rudimentary features +into which the wax has hardened, where the nose is nothing but a +prophetic outline, and where the black eyes are still shaded by the +chaotic darkness out of which the first doll rose--there all national +distinctions cease, there the embryo doll lives her life of Arcadian +simplicity, undisturbed by all political agitations in the land which +gave her birth; the doll _a treize sous_ does not emigrate, maybe from +patriotic motives, maybe from lack of initiative.[5] Her role in life is +humble; she belongs to the despised. Her place in the large toy-shops +is in a dark corner behind the other dolls, who stretch forth their +jointed arms towards better-to-do purchasers, and with gleaming glass +eyes and laughing lips appropriate the admiring glances of all the +customers. But far away in the deserted streets of the suburbs, where +the whole toy-shop consists of a portable table and the public of a +crowd of ragged urchins,--there the doll _a treize sous_ reigns supreme. +By the flickering light of the lantern illuminating the modest +fairy-world which Christmas and the New Year display to the children of +the poor, there the despised doll becomes beautiful as a queen and is +surrounded by her whole court of admirers. + +And I myself am one of her admirers. Not one of the fashionable beauties +of the Magasin du Louvre has ever made my heart beat one whit the +faster; not one of the charming coquettes of the Bon Marche has +succeeded in catching me in the net of her blond tresses; but I admit +the tender sympathy with which my eyes rest upon the coarse features of +the doll _a treize sous_. Every one to his taste--I think she is +handsome; I cannot help it. And we have often met; chance leads me +frequently across her path. But fancy if it were not chance! fancy if +instead it was my undeclared affection which so often guided my steps to +these places where I knew I should meet my sweetheart! fancy if I were +falling in love at last! At all events I haven't said anything to her, +nor has she ever said a word to me either of encouragement or rebuff. +But, as I said before, we often meet at the houses of mutual friends, +and sometimes, especially at Christmas and New Year, have we come +together there. My visit does not impress them very much, but what +happiness does not the doll spread around her! Realising my subordinate +role I willingly bow before the superior social talents of my companion, +and silently in a corner by myself I enjoy her success. I don't know how +she manages it, but she has hardly crossed the threshold before it seems +to grow brighter inside the dark garret where live the children of +destitution. The light radiates from the sparkling eyes of the little +ones, glimmers in a faint smile on the pale cheek of the sick brother, +and falls like a halo round the bald head of the doll. The little fellow +crawling on the floor suddenly ceases his sobbing; he forgets that he is +hungry, forgets that he is cold, and with radiant joy he stretches out +his arms to welcome the unexpected guest. And later at night, when it is +time for me to go away, when the children of the rich have danced +themselves tired round the Christmas tree, when the soldier's bugle has +sounded in the boys' nursery, and when the little girls' smart dolls +have been put to sleep each in their dainty bed--then little sister up +in the garret tenderly wraps mother's ragged shawl round her beloved +doll, for the night is cold and the doll has nothing on; and so they +fall asleep side by side together, the pauper doll and her grateful +little admirer. + +Despised and ridiculed by us grown-up people, whose eyes have been led +astray by the modern demand for realism, it is nevertheless a fact that +the doll _a treize sous_ in the freshness of her primitive naivete +approaches nearer the ideal than the costly beauties of the Louvre and +Bon Marche, who have reached the highest summit of refinement. We +grown-up people have lost the faculty of understanding this from the +moment we lost the simplicity of our childhood, but our teacher in this, +as in many other things, is the little chap who still crawls about on +the floor. Put a smart doll of fashion side by side with a simple pauper +doll whose shape is as yet barely human, and you will see that the +child usually stretches out his arms towards the latter. It sounds like +a paradox, but it is a fact that you can easily verify for yourself; +these cheap toys are, as a rule, preferred even by the children of the +rich--that is to say, so long as they are real children and unconscious +of the value of money. Later on, when they have acquired this knowledge, +they are driven out from the Eden of childhood, their eyes are opened to +the nakedness of the pauper doll, and what I have just said ceases to be +true. + +But the "political agitations"--what has become of them? Far away from +all political storms and quarrels, my thoughts have fled to the garret +idyll of the pauper doll; I have tried to sketch her as she has so often +revealed herself to me; I have lifted a corner of the veil of unmerited +oblivion which conceals her humble existence, there where she lives to +bring joy to those whom the world rears to sorrow. I have done so as a +tribute of gratitude for the pure joy which she has so often given me +also, although I am myself too old to play with dolls. But, thank God, I +am not too old to look on! + +The doll is not old, and old age will never touch her--she will never +grow old; she dies young, even as the hero, beloved of the gods. She +dies young, and the first few weeks of the New Year have hardly passed +away before she wends her way to the strange Elysian fields, where all +that survives of broken toys sleeps under the shade of withered +Christmas trees. + +[Footnote 3: An uncanny little invention which, manipulated by hundreds +of street boys, ran all along the Boulevards during the first week of +the New Year. It is about the size of a thimble and costs four sous. As +the Eastern question still commands the attention of Europe, we shall +probably be favoured with it again this winter. To be correct, I must +here state that this attractive toy is also offered for sale under the +name of _Le dernier soupir de la Belle Mere_.] + +[Footnote 4: The German toys pay, since 1871, the ridiculous duty of +sixty francs per hundred kilo.] + +[Footnote 5: The doll _a treize sous_ is a characteristic Parisian type; +she belongs to the family of _poupards_ and is usually made of +papier-mache or wood. After the making of the head the creative power of +the artist comes to a sudden stand-still; the rest of the body is only a +sketch and loses itself in an oblong chaos.] + + + + + FOR THOSE WHO LOVE MUSIC + + +I had engaged him by the year. Twice a week he came and went through his +whole repertoire, and lately, out of sympathy for me, he would play the +Miserere of the _Trovatore_, which was his show piece, twice over. He +stood there in the middle of the street looking steadfastly up at my +windows while he played, and when he had finished he would take off his +hat with a "Addio Signor!" + +It is well known that the barrel-organ, like the violin, gets a fuller +and more sympathetic tone the older it is. The old artist had an +excellent instrument, not of the modern noisy type which imitates a +whole orchestra with flutes and bells and beats of drums, but a +melancholy old-fashioned barrel-organ which knew how to lend a dreamy +mystery to the gayest allegretto, and in whose proudest tempo di Marcia +there sounded an unmistakable undertone of resignation. And in the +tenderer pieces of the repertoire, where the melody, muffled and +staggering like a cracked old human voice, groped its way amongst the +rusty pipes of the treble, then there was a trembling in the bass like +suppressed sobs. Now and then the voice of the tired organ failed it +completely, and then the old man would resignedly turn the handle during +some bars of rest more touching in their eloquent silence than any +music. + +True, the instrument was itself very expressive, but the old man had +surely his share in the sensation of melancholy which came over me +whenever I heard his music. He had his beat in the poor quarter behind +the Jardin des Plantes, and many times during my solitary rambles up +there had I stopped and taken my place among the scanty audience of +ragged street boys which surrounded him. + +We made acquaintance one misty dark autumn day. I sat on a bench under +the fading trees, which in vain had tried to deck the gloomy square with +a little summer, and now hopelessly suffered their leaves to fall; and, +like a melancholy accompaniment to my dreamy thoughts, the old +barrel-organ in the slum close by coughed out the aria from the last act +of the Traviata: "Addio del passato bei sogni ridenti!" + +I startled as the music stopped. The old man had gone through his whole +repertoire, and after a despairing inspection of his audience he +resignedly tucked the monkey under his cloak and prepared to depart. I +have always liked barrel-organs, and I have a sufficiently correct ear +to distinguish good music from bad; so I went up and thanked him and +asked him to play a little longer, unless he was too tired in the arm. I +am afraid he was not spoiled by praise, for he looked at me with a sad, +incredulous expression which pained me, and with an almost shy +hesitation he asked me if it was any special piece I wished to hear. I +left the choice to the old man. After a mysterious manipulation with +some screws under the organ, which was answered from its depths by a +half-smothered groan, he began slowly and with a certain solemnity to +turn the handle, and with a friendly glance at me, he said, "_Questo e +per gli amici_."[6] + +It was a tune I had not heard him play before, but I knew well the sweet +old melody, and half aloud I searched my memory for the words of perhaps +the finest folk-song of Naples: + + "Fenestra che luciva e mo non luce + Segn' e ca Nenna mia stace malata + S' affaccia la sorella e me lo dice: + Nennella toja e morta e s' e aterrata + Chiagneva sempe ca dormeva sola, + Mo dorme in distinta compagnia." + + +He looked at me with a shy interest while he played, and when he had +finished he bared his gray head; I also raised my hat, and thus our +acquaintance was made. + +It was not difficult to see that times were hard--the old man's clothes +were doubtful, and the pallor of poverty lay over his withered features, +where I read the story of a long life of failure. He came from the +mountains around Monte Cassino, so he informed me, but where the monkey +hailed from I never quite got to know. + +Thus we met from time to time during my rambles in the poor quarters. +Had I a moment to spare I stopped for a while to listen to a tune or +two, as I saw that it gratified the old man, and since I always carried +a lump of sugar in my pocket for any dog acquaintance I might possibly +meet, I soon made friends with the monkey also. The relations between +the little monkey and her impresario were unusually cordial, and this +notwithstanding that she had completely failed to fulfil the +expectations which had been founded upon her--she had never been able to +learn a single trick, the old man told me. Thus all attempts at +education had long ago been abandoned, and she sat there huddled +together on her barrel-organ and did nothing at all. Her face was sad, +like that of most animals, and her thoughts were far away. But now and +then she woke up from her dreams, and her eyes could then take a +suspicious, almost malignant expression, as they lit upon some of the +street boys who crowded round her tribune and tried to pull her tail, +which stuck out from her little gold-laced garibaldi. To me she was +always very amiable; confidently she laid her wrinkled hand in mine and +absently she accepted the little attentions I was able to offer her. She +was very fond of sweetmeats, and burnt almonds were, in her opinion, +the most delectable thing in the world. + +Since the old man had once recognised his musical friend on a balcony of +the Hotel de l'Avenir, he often came and played under my windows. Later +on he became engaged, as already said, to come regularly and play twice +a week,--it may, perhaps, appear superfluous for one who was studying +medicine, but the old man's terms were so small, and you know I have +always been so fond of music. Besides it was the only recreation at +hand--I was working hard in the Hotel de l'Avenir, for I was to take my +degree in the spring. + +So passed the autumn, and the hard time came. The rich tried on the new +winter fashions, and the poor shivered with the cold. It became more and +more difficult for well-gloved hands to leave the warm muff or the +fur-lined coat to take out a copper for the beggar, and more and more +desperate became the struggle for bread amongst the problematical +existences of the street. Before hopelessly-closed windows small +half-frozen artistes gave concerts in the courtyards; unnoticed +resounded the most telling pieces of the repertoire about _La bella +Napoli_ and _Santa Lucia_, while stiffened fingers twanged the +mandoline, and the little sister, shivering with cold, banged the +tambourine. In vain the old street-singer sang with hoarse pathos the +song about _La Gloire_ and _La Patrie_, and in vain my friend played +that piece _per gli amici_--thicker and thicker fell the snowflakes over +the humbly-bared heads, and scarcer and scarcer fell the coppers into +the outstretched hats. + +Now and then I came across my friend, and we always had, as before, a +kind word for one another. He was now wrapped up in an old Abruzzi +cloak, and I noticed that the greater the cold became the faster did he +turn the handle to keep himself warm; and towards December the Miserere +itself was performed in allegretto. + +The monkey had now become civilian, and wrapped up her little thin body +in a long ulster such as Englishmen wear; but she was fearfully cold +notwithstanding, and, forgetful of all etiquette, more and more often +she jumped from the barrel-organ and crept in under the old man's cloak. + +And while they were suffering out there in the cold I sat at home in my +cosy, warm room, and instead of helping them, I forgot all about them, +more and more taken up as I was with my coming examination, with no +thought but for myself. And then one day I suddenly left my lodgings and +removed to the Hotel Dieu to take the place of a comrade, and weeks +passed before I put my foot out of the hospital. + +I remember it so well, it was the very New Year's Day we met each other +again. I was crossing the Place de Notre Dame, mass was just over, and +the people were streaming out of the old cathedral. As usual, a row of +beggars was standing before the door, imploring the charity of the +churchgoers. The severe winter had increased their number, and besides +the usual beggars, cripples and blind, who were always by the church +porch, reciting in loud voices the history of their misery, there stood +a silent rank of Poverty's accidental recruits--poor fellows whose daily +bread had been buried under the snow, and whose pride the cold had at +last benumbed. At the farther end, and at some distance from the others, +an old man stood with bent head and outstretched hat, and with painful +surprise I recognised my friend in his threadbare old coat without the +Abruzzi cloak, without the barrel-organ, without the monkey. My first +impulse was to go up to him, but an uneasy feeling of I do not know +what held me back; I felt that I blushed and I did not move from my +place. Every now and then a passer-by stopped for a moment and made as +if to search his pocket, but I did not see a single copper fall into the +old man's hat. The place became gradually deserted, and one beggar after +another trotted off with his little earnings. At last a child came out +of the church, led by a gentleman in mourning; the child pointed towards +the old man, and then ran up to him and laid a silver coin in his hat. +The old man humbly bowed his head in thanks, and even I, with my +unfortunate absent-mindedness, was very nearly thanking the little donor +also, so pleased was I. My friend carefully wrapped up the precious gift +in an old pocket-handkerchief, and stooping forward, as if still +carrying the barrel-organ on his back, he walked off. + +I happened to be quite free that morning, and, thinking that a little +walk before luncheon could do me no harm after the hospital air, I +followed him at a short distance across the Seine. Once or twice I +nearly caught him up, and all but tapped him on the shoulder, with a +"Buon giorno, Don Gaetano!" Yet, without exactly knowing why, I drew +back at the last moment and let him get a few paces ahead of me again. + +An icy wind blew straight against us, and I drew my fur cloak closer +round me. But just then it suddenly struck me to ask myself why, after +all, it was I who owned such a warm and comfortable fur cloak, whilst +the old man who tramped along in front of me had only a threadbare old +coat? And why was it for me that luncheon was waiting, and not for him? +Why should I have a good blazing fire burning in my cosy room, while the +old man had to wander about the streets the whole day long to find his +food, and in the evening go home to his miserable garret and, +unprotected against the cold of the winter night, prepare for the next +day's struggle for bread? + +And it suddenly dawned upon me why I had blushed when I saw him at Notre +Dame, and why I could not make up my mind to go and speak to him--I felt +ashamed before this old man, I felt ashamed at life's unmerited +generosity to me and its severity to him. I felt as if I had taken +something from him which I ought to restore to him; and I began to +wonder whether it might be the fur coat. But I got no further in my +meditations, for the old man stopped and looked in at a shop window. We +had just crossed the Place Maubert and turned into the Boulevard St. +Germain; the boulevard was full of people, so that, without being +noticed, I could approach him quite close. He was standing before an +elegant confectioner's shop, and to my surprise he entered without +hesitation. I took up my position before the shop window, alongside some +shivering street arabs who stood there, absorbed in the contemplation of +the unattainable delicacies within, and I watched the old man carefully +untie his pocket-handkerchief and lay the little girl's gift upon the +counter. I had hardly time to draw back before he came out with a red +paper bag of sweets in his hand, and with rapid steps he started off in +the direction of the Jardin des Plantes. + +I was very much astonished at what I had seen, and my curiosity made me +follow him. He slackened his pace at one of the little slums behind +Hopital de la Pitie, and I saw him disappear into a dirty old house. I +waited outside a minute or two, and then I groped my way through the +pitch-dark entrance, climbed up a filthy staircase, and found a door +slightly ajar. An icy, dark room, in the middle three ragged little +children crouched together around a half-extinct brazier, in the corner +the only furniture in the room--a clean iron bedstead, with crucifix and +rosary hung on the wall above it, and by the window an image of the +Madonna adorned with gaudy paper flowers; I was in Italy, in my poor, +exiled Italy. And in the purest Tuscan the eldest sister informed me +that Don Gaetano lived in the garret. I went up there and knocked, but +no one answered, so I opened the door myself. The room was brightly lit +up by a blazing fire. With his back towards the door, Don Gaetano was on +his knees before the stove busy heating a little saucepan over the fire, +beside him on the floor lay an old mattress with the well-known Abruzzi +cloak thrown over it, and close by, spread out on a newspaper, were +various delicacies--an orange, walnuts, and raisins, and there also was +the red paper bag. Don Gaetano dropped a lump of sugar into the +saucepan, stirred it with a stick, and in a persuasive voice I heard +him say, "_Che bella roba, che bella roba, quanto e buono questa latte +con lo zucchero! Non piange anima mia, adesso siamo pronti!_"[7] + +A slight rustling was heard beneath the Abruzzi cloak, and a black +little hand was stretched out towards the red paper bag. + +"_Primo il latte, primo il latte_," admonished the old man. "_Non +importa, piglia tu una_,"[8] he repented, and took a big burnt almond +out of the paper bag; the little hand disappeared, and a crunching was +heard under the cloak. Don Gaetano poured the warm milk in a saucer, and +then he carefully lifted up a corner of the cloak. There lay the poor +little monkey with heaving breast and eyes glowing with fever. Her face +had become so small, and her complexion was ashy gray. The old man took +her on his knees, and tenderly as a mother he poured some spoonfuls of +the warm milk into her mouth. She looked with indifferent eyes towards +the delicacies on the table, and absently she let her fingers pass +through her master's beard. She was so tired that she could hardly hold +her head up, and now and then she coughed so that her thin little body +trembled, and she pressed both her hands to her temples. Don Gaetano +shook his head sadly, and carefully laid the little invalid back under +the cloak. + +A feeble blush spread over the old man's face as he caught sight of me. +I told him that I had happened to be passing by just as he was entering +his house, and that I took the liberty of following him upstairs in +order to bid him good-morning and to give him my new address, in the +hope that he would come and play to me as before. I involuntarily looked +round for the barrel-organ as I spoke, and Don Gaetano, who understood, +informed me that he no longer played the organ--he sang. I glanced at +the precious pile of wood beside the fireplace, at the new blanket that +hung before the window to keep out the draught, at the delicacies on the +newspaper--and I also understood. + +The monkey had been ill three weeks--_la febbre_, explained the old man. +We knelt one at each side of the bed, and the sick animal looked at me +with her mute prayer for help. Her nose was hot, as it is with sick +children and dogs, her face wrinkled like that of an old, old woman, and +her eyes had got quite a human expression. Her breathing was so short, +and we could hear how it rattled in her throat. The diagnosis was not +difficult--she had consumption. Now and again she stretched out her thin +arms as if she implored us to help her, and Don Gaetano thought that she +did so because she wished to be bled.[9] I would willingly have given +in in this case, although opposed in principle to this treatment, if I +had thought it possible that any benefit could have been derived from +it; but I knew only too well how unlikely this was, and I tried my best +to make Don Gaetano understand it. Unhappily I did not know myself what +there was to be done. I had at that time a friend amongst the keepers of +the monkey-house in the Jardin des Plantes, and the same night he came +with me to have a look at her; he said that there was nothing to be +done, and that there was no hope. And he was right. For one week more +the fire blazed in Don Gaetano's garret, then it was left to go out, and +it became cold and dark as before in the old man's home. + +True, he got his barrel-organ out from the pawn-shop, and now and then a +copper did fall into his hat also. He did not die of starvation, and +that was about all he asked of life. + +So the spring came and I left Paris; and God knows what has become of +Don Gaetano. + +If you happen to hear a melancholy old barrel-organ in the courtyard, go +to the window and give a penny to the poor errant musician--perhaps it +is Don Gaetano! If you find that his organ disturbs you, try if you like +it better by making him stand a little farther off, but don't send him +away with harshness! He has to hear so many hard words as it is; why +should not we then be a little kind to him--we who love music? + +[Footnote 6: "This is for friends."] + +[Footnote 7: "What nice things, what nice things, how good this milk +with sugar is! Don't cry, my darling, it is ready now!"] + +[Footnote 8: "The milk first, the milk first--never mind, take one."] + +[Footnote 9: The lower classes in Italy still use bleeding for all kinds +of diseases, and this treatment is also extended to animals. I knew a +monkey in Naples who was bled twice.] + + + + + POLITICAL AGITATIONS IN CAPRI + + +Don't be alarmed--they are not going to disturb the peace of Europe. + +Alas! there are spots even on the sun, and neither is "the loveliest +pearl in Naples' crown" altogether faultless. + +Croaking ravens swarm around the ruins where thousand-year-old memories +lie slumbering, dirty dwarf hands fumble amidst the remains of fallen +giants' vanished splendour, barbarians pull to pieces the mosaic floors +on which the feet of emperors trod. Night-capped and blue-stockinged +Prose startles the Idyll which lies there dreaming with half-closed +eyes, grinning fauns push aside the vines which hide from view the cool +grotto where the nymph of the legend bathes her graceful limbs. + +Capri is sick, Capri is infested with parasites even as the old lion. +Capri is full of--yes, but in politics one has to be careful; I say +nothing, read the article to the end, and you will see what it is that +Capri is full of. + +Amidst the ruins of Tiberius's Villa you sit on high, gazing out over +the sea. Absently your eye follows a white sail in the distance; it is a +little peaceful fishing-boat quietly sailing home. And your thoughts +wander far, far away. Here, in his marble-shining palace, stood once +upon a time the ruler of the world; he gazed out over the sea, he also, +but his eye was not as fearless as yours, for he dreaded the avenger of +his victims in every approaching boat; and when the bay was dark he +would still linger up there and, trembling, seek to read his doom in the +stars which studded the vault of heaven. No crimes could help him any +longer to forgetfulness of himself; no vice could any more benumb the +torture of his soul; within his rock-built citadel the sombre emperor +suffered torments far greater than any he had ever inflicted on his +victims; his heart had long since bled to death under his purple toga, +but his soul lived on in its titanic sorrow. The spot whereon you lie is +named _Il Salto di Tiberio_. From here he hurled his victims into the +sea, and there below men were rowing about in boats in order to crush to +death with their oars those who were still struggling with the waves. +Bend over the precipice and see the foaming surge--old fishermen have +told me that sometimes when the moon goes under a cloud and all is dark, +the waves breaking over the rocks beneath seem tinged with blood. + +But the sun streams his forgiveness over the crumbled witness of so much +sin, and, ere long, the vision of the sombre emperor fades from your +thought. Now it is silent and peaceful up at Villa Tiberio. You lie +there on your back gazing out over the gulf, and it seems to you as +though the world ended beyond its lovely shores. The restless strife of +the day does not reach you here, and all dissonance is silenced; your +thoughts fly aimlessly round, play for awhile amongst the surf near +Sorrento's rocks, send their open-armed greeting to Ischia's groves, and +pluck some fragrant roses from the verdant shore of Posilipo. So +perception gradually dies away, no longer do you hear the buzz of the +whirling wheels in the factory of thought--to-day is a day of rest and +your soul may dream. What dream you?--You know not! Where are you?--You +know not! You fly on the white wings of the sea-gulls far, far away over +the wide waters; you sail with the brilliant clouds high overhead where +no thought can reach you. + +But you are only a prisoner after all--a prisoner who dreamt he was free +and is awakened in the midst of his dreams by the rattle of a jailer's +key. The sound of voices strikes your ear, and like a wing-shot bird you +fall to the earth. Beside you stands a lanky individual, and he says to +his companion that it is incredible that a man can be prosaic enough to +fall asleep on a spot so _wunderbar_. Ah, you are asleep, are you? + +The spell is broken, the harmony destroyed, and you get up to go away. +He then assaults you with the question whether you don't think the gulf +is blue? and you have not walked on ten yards before he attacks you +treacherously from behind with the remark that the sky is also blue. You +believe it helps to stare savagely at him--I have done it many times, +and it does not impress him in the very least. You want to try to make +him believe you are deaf--that is no use either; he takes it as a +compliment, for he prefers to have the conversation all to himself. + +The sun stands high in the heavens and the summer's day is so +warm--come, let us go and bathe in the cool water of the blue grotto. +No, my friend, not there! Even thither, like sharks they come swimming +after us to ask us if we are aware that the blue grotto of Capri is +virtually German, that it was _ein Deutscher_ who discovered the grotto +in 1826. Let us be off for Bagni di Tiberio, the ruins of the emperor's +bath, strip off our clothes inside one of the cool little chambers which +still remain amongst huge blocks of crumbling masonry, and plunge into +the sapphire water. But do you see those huge holes in the fine +sand,--are there elephants in the island? No, my friend, but let us be +off! I know the track, and there she sits, the blonde Gretchen, reading +one of Spielhagen's novels--were it Heine she was reading I might +perhaps forgive her. + +We return along the beach to the Marina and wend our way along the old +path between the vineyards leading up to the village. Unfortunately the +new carriage road is nearly ready, but we, of course, prefer the old +way, by far the more picturesque of the two. On the beach we stumble +over easels and colour-boxes at short distances set out as traps for +dreamers; beside each trap sits an amateur in ambush under a big +umbrella, and he invokes _der Teufel_ to help him, which I suppose he +does. + +You propose putting up at Albergo Pagano--yes, you are right; it is no +doubt the best hotel in the island. Old Pagano, who was a capital +fellow, died many years ago, and only we old Capriotes can remember him. +His son Manfredo, who now manages the hotel, is my very good friend; but +it is not his fault that his house has become as German as though it +lay in the heart of _Das grosse Vaterland_. At least a good fifty of +them are gathered round the table in the big dining-room. Upon the walls +hangs a plaster medallion of the _Kaiser_ decorated with fresh laurels, +and should they pay you the compliment of mistaking you for a Frenchman, +it is just possible they may drink a bumper to the memory of 1870--an +experience I once went through myself. Instead of the silence and the +peace you so longed for, you are subjected during the whole of +dinner-time to the most terrific uproar worthy of a _Kneipe_ in Bremen. +In despair you fling open the door leading into the garden--no, you are +in Italy after all! Out there under the pergola the moonbeams are +playing amongst the vines, the air is soft and caressing, and the summer +evening recites to you its enchanting sonnet as a compensation for the +prose within. You wander there up and down all alone, but scarcely have +you had time to say to yourself that you are happy before + + "Heil dir im Sieges Kranz!" + +rings like a war-cry through the peaceful night, answered from the +street by some little Capriote ragamuffins with a horrible chorus of + + "Ach! du lieber Augustin! + Augustin, Augustin!" + + * * * * * + +Of course I am aware of the supercilious way in which many of the +readers of _Letters from a Mourning City_[10] have turned up their noses +at my circle of friends out here--lazzaroni, shabby old monks, +half-starving sailors, etc. The hour is at hand for introducing you to +some acquaintances of mine of somewhat higher rank, and now I will tell +you a story of the upper regions of society. It happened at Capri a good +many years ago, and the _dramatis personae_ consisted of my friend +D----, myself, and the then Crown Princess of Germany. + +My friend D---- and I happened to be the only profane people in the +hotel just then. The whole of the big dining-table was in the hands of +the Germans, whilst we two sat by ourselves at a small side-table. It +was there we had our little observatory, as Professor Palmieri had his +on Mount Vesuvius. For some days past our keen instruments of perception +had warned us that something unusual was going on at the big table. The +roaring of an evening was louder than ever, the smoke rose in thicker +clouds, the beer ran in streams, and the faces were flushed to +red-heat--everything announced an eruption of patriotism. One evening +there arrived a telegram which, amidst a terrific babel of voices, was +read aloud by one of the party--a commercial traveller from Potsdam, +whom I personally hated because he snored at night; his room was next +to mine and the walls of the hotel were thin. The telegram announced +that the Crown Princess of Germany, who had been spending the last few +days in Naples, was expected to visit Capri the next day in the +strictest incognito. Nobody appeared to understand that the word +"incognito" means that one wishes to be left in peace, and during the +rest of the dinner the faithful patriots did nothing but discuss the +best way of how to spoil the unfortunate Princess's little visit to the +island. A complete programme was drawn up there and then: a triumphal +arch was to be erected, a select deputation was to swoop down upon her +the moment she set foot on land, while the main body was to block her +way up to the piazza. Patriotic songs were to be sung in chorus, a +speech read, whilst the commercial traveller from Potsdam was to express +in a welcoming poem what already his face said eloquently enough--that +poetry was not in his line. Every garden in Capri was to be despoiled of +its roses, whole bushes and trees were to be uprooted wherewith to deck +the triumphal arch, and all night they were to weave garlands and stitch +flags. + +I went up to my room, threw myself on the sofa, and lit a cigarette. And +as I lay there meditating, feelings of the deepest compassion towards +the Crown Princess of Germany began to overwhelm me. I had just read in +the papers how, during her stay in Naples, she had sought by every +manner of means to elude all official recognition, and to avoid every +sort of demonstration in her honour during her excursions round the bay. +Poor Princess! she had flattered herself upon having left all weary +court etiquette behind in foggy Berlin, and yet she was not to be +allowed to enjoy in peace one single summer day on the gulf! To be rich +enough to be able to buy the whole of Capri, and yet be unable to enjoy +the peaceful idyll of the enchanting island for one short hour! To be +destined to wear one of the proudest crowns of the world, and yet to be +powerless to prevent a commercial traveller from writing poetry! My +compassionate reflections were here disturbed by the noise of heavy +footsteps in the adjoining room; it sounded like the tramp of horses' +hoofs; it was the "_Probenreiter_" who mounted his Pegasus. The whole +night through I lay there reflecting on the vanity of earthly power, and +the whole night did the Poet Laureate wander up and down his room. Once +the tramping ceased, and there was a silence. There was a panting from +within, and I heard a husky voice murmur-- + + "Ich stehe hier auf Felsenstrand! + Ich stehe hier auf Felsenstrand!"[11] + +A moment afterwards I heard him fling open his window and let the night +air cool the fire of his inspiration. Our rooms opened on to the same +balcony, and carefully lifting up my blind I could see the moonlight +falling full upon him as he leaned against the window-frame. His hair +stood on end and an inarticulate mumble fell from his lips. He gazed in +despair up to the heavens where the stars were twinkling knowingly at +one another; he glanced out over the garden where the night wind flew +tittering amongst the leaves. But he never saw the joke until a startled +young cock inquired of some old cocks down in the poultry yard what time +it was, and then crowed straight into his face that the night was passed +and he had got no further than the first verse. Then he murmured once +more a plaintive-- + + "Ich stehe hier auf Felsenstrand!" + +and banged his windows to. All the cocks of Pagano's crowed "Bravo! +Bravo!" but Phoebus, Phoebus Apollo, the God of the Sun and of the +poets, entered his room at that moment, and he reddened with anger when +he caught sight of the commercial traveller tampering with his lyre. + +Later on, when the chambermaid appeared, I heard him call out for coffee +and cognac--having spent the whole night like that on his +_Felsenstrand_, no wonder he needed a pick-me-up. He was late for +luncheon. I glanced at the poet; an interesting pallor lent a faint look +of distinction to the commercial traveller's plump features, and his +great goggle eyes lay like extinct suns under his heavy eyelids. He +received great attention from everybody, especially from the fair sex. I +heard him confide to his neighbour at table that he always succeeded +best with improvisations, and that he did not intend to let the reins of +his inspiration loose until the last moment. They drank to his charming +talent, whereupon he modestly smiled. He ate nothing, but drank +considerably. At dessert he had regained his high colour, harangued +every one excitedly, and drank toasts right and left. But it seemed as +if he dared not be alone with his thoughts; as soon as the conversation +around him ceased, he sank into profound meditation, and an attentive +observer could easily detect that the roses of his cheeks were hiding +cruel thorns which pierced his soul. For it was twelve o'clock; the +Princess was expected at four, and he still stood there like Napoleon on +St. Helena, alone and abandoned on his _Felsenstrand_, vainly gazing out +over the unfathomable ocean of poetry in search of one single little +friendly rhyme to row him over to the next verse. + +The hotel had become quite unbearable downstairs; rehearsals of +patriotic songs were going on in the salon, whilst in the hall went on a +busy manufacture of garlands, to which the victim's name and long +fluttering ribbons were being attached. The piazza was gaily decorated; +the triumphal arch was ready--a black cardboard eagle perched on the top +holding a white placard in his beak, upon which stood out in huge red +letters the word _Willkommen_. Flag-staffs and garlands all over the +piazza; even Nicolino, barber and _salassatore_ (bleeder), had decided +to join the triple alliance, and a colossal German flag was waving +before his _salone_. I did not know what to do with myself, and at last +I strolled up towards Villa di Tiberio--up there, there might be a +chance of a little peace at all events. I had scarcely had time to lie +down in my favourite place far out on the edge of the cliff, viewing the +Bay of Naples on one side and the Bay of Salerno and the wide sea on the +other, before a long shadow fell across me. I looked up, and saw a +patriot staring fixedly through a telescope towards Naples. As a matter +of fact, something was visible in the midst of the bay, but the haze +made it difficult to see what it was. Suddenly he gave a sort of +war-whoop, whereupon two other spies, who must have been sitting at the +top of the old watch-tower, came bursting on the scene. I knew quite +well what it was that had appeared in sight--it was the big +"Scoppa-boat" sailing home from Naples.[12] Of course I said nothing, as +there was always a faint hope that they might mistake it for the +expected steamer, and take themselves off. But unfortunately they also +guessed rightly, and all three sat down on the grass beside me, and +began munching sandwiches and abusing Tiberius. I took myself off, and +returned to Capri. On the piazza I came across my friend D----, who did +not seem to be in a very good temper either; he was on his way to the +Marina, and I accompanied him thither. Down at the Marina everything was +peaceful and quiet, for the time being at all events. Old men sat there +in the open boathouses mending their nets, and small boys, who had not +seen fit to put on more clothes than usual for the Princess's expected +visit, played about in the surf, and rolled their little bronze bodies +in the sand. The landing-place was crowded as usual when the Naples +steamer is expected; girls stood there offering corals, flowers, and +fruit for sale, and in the rear stood patient little donkeys, ready +saddled for carrying the expected visitors on a trip up to the village. +We were just about to blot the whole of Germany from our minds, when my +friend Alessio, shading his eyes with his hand, suddenly observed that +the steamer which had just come in sight was not the usual passenger +steamer from Naples, but a larger and more rapid boat. I looked at my +watch, it was barely three o'clock; I had hoped for at least another +hour's respite. Alessio was right; it was not the usual boat that hove +in sight. And now the Marina began to wake up, and people came pouring +in from all sides. We saw the deputation rush down the hill at full +speed, with the chorus at its heels, and last of all came the court +poet, who surely disapproved as much as we did at the Princess's +anticipating her visit by a whole hour. The steamer was certainly going +with a greater speed than the usual boat, and she also seemed to draw +more water, as she backed farther out than usual from the harbour. The +solemn moment was at hand; the deputation stood on the landing-stage in +battle array, headed by the commercial traveller. We saw several people +descend the ladder and step into a little boat, which rapidly made for +the shore. + + "Heil dir im Sieges Kranz!" + +was now performed, and hardly had they got through the first verse when +the boat pulled up alongside the little quay, and two ladies and a +gentleman in uniform prepared to land. If they thought this would prove +so easy a matter, they were mistaken--they were stopped short by the +commercial traveller from Potsdam, who solemnly and warningly stretched +out his right hand towards them, while with his left he drew a paper out +of his trousers pocket. My old compassion for the Crown Princess rose +anew, but what could I do for her? All hope of escape was at an +end. . . . + + "Ich stehe hier auf Felsenstrand"-- + +--but here there was a sudden silence. One of the ladies laughingly bent +forward to say a few words to the gentleman in uniform, who quietly +informed the deputation that these two ladies of the Princess's suite +were anxious to make an excursion up to the village, while the Princess +herself, who had remained on board, would sail round the island. At +that very moment we saw the steamer turn round and make for the western +side of the island. + +Utterly dumbfounded, the deputation held a council of war as to the best +course to be pursued. It was evident that the steamer had gone to make +"_il giro_" (_i.e._ the usual round of the island), to return finally to +the Grande Marina, the only real landing-place which Capri possesses. +True that a sort of harbour exists also on the south side at the Piccola +Marina, but it has fallen into disuse, and the road hence into the +village is very rough. They therefore decided to await the steamer's +return where they were; more than an hour it would scarcely take. The +deputation sank dejectedly down upon some upturned boats, but the poet +remained standing for fear of creasing his dress-coat (fancy wearing a +dress-coat and top-hat in Capri!) And he ran no chance of freezing, I +can tell you, as he stood there in his sun-bath. The hour dragged +wearily along, but still no sign of the steamer. They had waited for +nearly two hours, when a fisherman phlegmatically observed that as far +as he could make out the steamer had gone to the Piccola Marina, for he +had rowed past just as the jolly-boat set out from the steamer, and some +one on the captain's bridge had asked him how many feet of water they +might count upon at the Piccola Marina. Up flew the deputation as if +stung by an asp, and disappeared in a cloud of dust on to the Capri +road. + +We dawdled about the Marina for some time longer, but finally we also +wandered up to Capri, not by the broad carriage-road, but climbing the +old path which joins the Anacapri road at some distance from the +village, thus avoiding the piazza altogether. + +It was as warm as a summer's day, and we lay down by the roadside to +rest in the high grass. We talked politics by way of exception. My +friend D---- is an Alsatian; he had been through the Franco-German war, +and was anything but tender towards the Germans, and neither was I, for +reasons of my own. But we were generous enemies, and we agreed that we +were very sorry for the Crown Princess, however German she might be. + +And thus I came to speak of my nocturnal adventure with the commercial +traveller, and no one being within earshot it is just possible that we +cracked a joke or two at the poet's expense. I remember that we tried to +steer him safely through his poem, and lay there roaring with laughter, +composing some extra verses to his unfinished inspiration. My old dog +lay beside me in the grass; he did his best to follow us in our poetical +flights, but the heat had made him somewhat indifferent to literary +pursuits, and he never succeeded in keeping more than one eye open at a +time. From out the ivy covering the old stone wall behind us a little +quick-tailed lizard peeped every now and then to warm itself in the sun. +Whenever you catch sight of one of these little lizards you should +whistle softly; the graceful little animal will then stand still, gazing +wonderingly around with her bright eyes to see from whence the sound +proceeds. She is so frightened that you can see her heart beat in her +brilliant green breast, but she is so curious and so fond of music--and +there is so little music to be heard inside the old stone wall! You have +only to keep quite quiet to see her emerge from her hiding-place and +settle down to listen attentively. Something rather melancholy is what +pleases her best; she likes Verdi, and I often start with Traviata when +I give concerts for lizards. I am so fond of music myself, and maybe +that is the reason why I try to be kind to these small music-lovers. +That any one can have the heart to take the pretty, graceful little +lizards captive is more than I can understand; they belong to an old +Italian wall as much as the ivy and the sunshine. But in Albergo Pagano +is a German who does nothing but go about hunting lizards; he shuts them +up in a cigar-box, which he opens every now and then to gaze like +another Gulliver upon his Lilliputian captives. We are deadly enemies, +he and I, for once I opened his cigar-box and set all his lizards free. + +Suddenly Puck gave a growl. We looked up, and to our great astonishment +we saw two ladies standing in front of us, and behind them stood a +gentleman in black, staring fixedly into space. We had not heard them +come up, so that they must have been standing there while D---- and I +were busy finishing off the commercial traveller's poem. We looked at +each other in consternation, but there was evidently nothing to fear; it +was not difficult to see that they were English, and not likely to have +understood one word of what we had been talking about. One of the ladies +was middle-aged, rather stout, and wore a gray travelling-dress, while +the other was a very smart young lady, whom we thought very good-looking +indeed. They stood there gazing out over the Marina, and on looking in +the same direction we saw that the Princess's steamer had returned from +its _giro_ round the island, and had anchored beside the Naples boat. +Our discomfiture was complete upon the younger of the ladies turning +round to ask us in perfect French how long it would take them to get to +the village. D----, who was lying nearest them, answered it would hardly +take ten minutes. + +"Is it necessary to go through the village in order to reach the beach?" +said she, pointing towards the Marina. + +"Yes," answered D----, "it is necessary to do so." + +Here Puck stretched himself and stared yawningly at them. + +"What a beautiful dog!" I heard the elder lady say to her companion in +English. I at once discovered her to be a lady of great distinction and +exceptional taste, and I immediately felt a desire to show her some +politeness. I could not hit upon anything better to tell her than that +she had chosen an unfortunate day for coming to Capri, the island having +fallen a prey to the barbarians for the whole day. I told her that the +Crown Princess of Germany was actually on the island, and that, pursued +by a deputation and a commercial traveller, she had just now been caught +on the Piccola Marina and carried off to the Piazza. I added that all +our sympathies followed the Princess. I noticed a rather peculiar +expression on the younger lady's face as I delivered myself of these +remarks, but the elder listened to all I said with a scarcely +perceptible smile over her eyes. + +"We are anxious to reach the harbour as soon as possible," said she; "we +have been absent longer than we intended." + +"There is a short cut down to the Marina," answered I, politely; "we +have just come up that way ourselves. But I am afraid it is rather too +rough a road for you, madam." + +"Will it lead us straight down there?" said she, pointing to the harbour +where both steamers lay at anchor. + +"Oh dear, yes!" + +"And without obliging us to enter the village?" + +"Without obliging you to enter the village," answered I. + +She exchanged a few words with the younger lady, and then said in a +decided, abrupt sort of way, "Be kind enough to show us the way." + +Yes, that was easy enough, and I led them down to the Marina. +Conversation rather languished on the way. I had come across two +singularly reticent ladies, and had it not been for my repeated efforts +it would have died altogether. Every now and then the younger lady +smiled to herself, which made me fear I had said something stupid. I +have never been much of a society man, and it is not so easy a matter to +entertain two entirely strange ladies. + +Upon reaching the wider part of the road I pointed towards the Marina at +their feet, and told them that they could not possibly go wrong now. We +saw one or two officers walking up and down the landing-stage, whereupon +I told the ladies that, were they desirous of seeing the Crown Princess, +they had only to wait there a moment or two; she was bound to arrive +soon with her tormentors at her heels. But this, they said, they did not +care about, and then they kindly wished me good-bye. + +Hardly had I begun to retrace my steps when two lackeys in the royal +livery of the house of Savoy came running down the road; I had barely +time to move to one side before they were yards beyond me. They were +immediately followed by a long, gaunt individual with very thin legs and +a very big moustache--_ma foi!_ if not a German officer, remarkably like +one at all events. He in his turn was succeeded by a fat, fussy little +person, who literally threw himself into my arms; he held his gold-laced +hat in one hand, while with the other he wiped the perspiration from his +forehead; he stammered an apology, and then rolled off again like a ball +down the hill. Most extraordinary, thought I to myself, the number of +people on this footpath to-day, considering that as a rule one never +meets a soul here! + +D---- still lay on the Anacapri road waiting for me; neither of us cared +to return to Capri just then, and we finally made up our minds to walk +up to Anacapri and greet la bella Margherita, and wait there till the +island should be restored to calm. We sat for a while under the pergola +and drank a glass of vino bianco, and then we slowly sauntered down to +Capri along the beautiful road, the whole of the myrtle-covered mountain +slope at our feet. When passing beneath Barbarossa's ruined castle we +glanced towards the Marina and saw to our relief that both steamers had +taken their departure. Genuine Capriotes always witness the departure of +the steamer with a certain satisfaction; they like to keep their beloved +Capri to themselves, and the crowd of noisy strangers only disturbs the +harmony of the dreamy little island. + +It was very nearly dark by the time we reached the village. The piazza +was quite deserted; from the shop-window of Nicolino, barber and +bleeder, hung the tricoloured flag waving sadly in the wind, whilst +perched upon the triumphal arch the cardboard eagle sat aloft gnawing +gloomily at his _Willkommen_. + +Upon reaching the hotel we found that every one was seated at table, but +an unusual silence prevailed. We withdrew to our little table and tried +to look as innocent as possible. At dessert there arose a frightful +dispute at the big table as to whose was the fault of a certain calamity +which apparently had happened to them during the day. I thought I heard +a murmur going round about an idiot who had been seen accompanying two +ladies down a short cut to the Marina, but I never got to know who he +was. Ah well! neither D---- nor I care to tell you more about this +story. If we behaved badly I have already been sufficiently punished. +Here I sit far from my beloved island in fog and gloom, whilst the +commercial traveller, for aught I know, is perhaps still enjoying +himself at Capri, and still entertaining the cocks of Pagano with-- + + "Ich stehe hier auf Felsenstrand!" + +[Footnote 10: _Letters from a Mourning City_, by Axel Munthe. John +Murray: London, 1887.] + +[Footnote 11: "Here I stand on a rocky shore!"] + +[Footnote 12: The old means of communication between Capri and Naples. +Unfortunately replaced by an ugly little steamer.] + + + + + MENAGERIE + + +--------------------------------------------+ + | _For a few days only!!!_ | + | | + | BRUTUS, Lion from Nubia. | + | | + | Tigers, Bears, Wolves. | + | | + | POLAR BEAR. | + | | + | Monkeys, Hyaenas, and other remarkable | + | Animals. | + | | + | The Lion-Tamer, called "The Lion King," | + | will enter the Lion's Cage at 6 o'clock. | + | | + | _For a few days only!!!_ | + +--------------------------------------------+ + +The street boys hold out for a while longer, cold though the evening be, +for the Lion King himself has already twice appeared on the platform in +riding-boots, and his breast sparkling with decorations, and, besides +that, one can distinctly hear the howling of the animals within the +tent. + +Yes, it would be a pity to miss an entertainment like this; come, let us +go in! + +It is the Lion King's wife herself who is sitting there selling the +tickets, and we gaze at her with a deference due to her rank. She wears +gold bracelets round her thick wrists, and a double gold chain glitters +beneath her fur cape. But the monkeys who sit there on each side of her +chained to their perches with leather straps girt tightly round their +stomachs--they wear no fur capes. Their faces are blue with cold, and +when they jump up and down to try to keep themselves warm the street +boys laugh and the market people stop to have a look at them--poor +unconscious clowns of the menagerie who are there for the purpose of +luring in spectators to witness the tortures of their other companions +in distress. + +The tent is full of people, and the many gas-lights inflame the infected +air. The show has already begun, and the spectators follow from cage to +cage a negro, who, pointing his stick at the prisoner behind the bars, +in monotonous voice announces his age, his country, and his crime of +having led the life which Nature has taught him to live. + +I have been here several times, and I know the negro's description by +heart. I will show you the animals. + +Here, in this cage, moping on his perch, his head hidden beneath his +ragged feather-cloak, you see the proudest representative of the bird +world--_The Royal Eagle, three years old, taken young_. You have read +about him, the strong-winged bird, who in solemn majesty circles above +the desolate mountain-tops. Alone he lives up there amongst the +clouds--alone like the human soul. He builds his nest upon an +inaccessible rock, and the precipice shields his young from rapacious +hands. _Taken young_; that means that the nest was plundered, the +mother was shot as she flew shrieking to protect her child, and by the +butt-end of the gun was broken the wing-bone of the half-grown eagle as +he struggled for his freedom. Here he has sat ever since; he sleeps +during the day, but he is awake the live-long night, and when all is +silent in the tent a strange, uncanny moan may be heard from his cage. +_Three years old!_ He is not the most to be pitied here, for he is not +likely to last long--the Royal Eagle dies when caged. + +Here you see a _Bear_. His cage is so small that he cannot walk up and +down; he sits there almost upright on his hindquarters, rocking his meek +and heavy head from side to side. If you offer him a piece of bread, he +flattens his nose against the bars and gently and carefully takes the +gift out of your hand. His nose is torn by the iron ring he once was +made to wear, and his eyes are bloodshot and streaming from the strong +gaslight; but their expression is not bad, it is kind and intelligent +like that of an old dog. Now and then he grips the bars with his mighty +paws, helplessly shaking the cage until the guinea-pigs who live below +him rush up and down in abject terror. Ay, shake your cage, old Bruin! +the bars are steel, stronger than your paws; you will never come +out--you are to die in your prison. You are a dangerous beast of +prey--you live on bilberries and fruit, and now and then you help +yourself to a sheep to keep yourself from dying of starvation. God +Almighty did not know better than to teach you to do so, but no doubt it +was very ill-judged of Him, and you are very much to blame; it is only +man who has the right to eat his fill. + +Here you see a _Hyaena_. The negro stirs up the hyaena with a cut of his +whip, and timorously the animal crouches in the farthermost corner of +the cage, whilst the negro tells the spectators that the hyaena is known +for its cowardice. The hyaena dare not risk an open fight, but +treacherously attacks the defenceless prisoner whom the savages have +left bound hand and foot to his fate in the wilderness, or the exhausted +beast of burden whom the caravan has abandoned in the desert after +having hoisted on to another the load he is no longer able to bear. The +negro pokes cautiously with his pointed stick into the corner where the +cowardly animal tries to hide itself, and the spectators all agree that +the hyaena, with its crouching back and restless eyes, conveys a faithful +picture of treachery and cowardice. None of the spectators have ever +seen a hyaena before, but they have seen crouching backs and restless +eyes. Not even the dead does the hyaena leave in peace, says the negro, +and with disgust man turns away from the guilty animal. + +Here you see a _Polar Bear_. Its name is advertised in huge letters on +the placard outside; and he deserves the distinction well indeed, for +his torture perhaps surpasses that of all the other animals. The Polar +bear is another dangerous beast of prey; he does a little fishing for +himself up in the north where man is busy exterminating the whales. The +horrible sufferings of the animal need no comment--let us go on. + +A little _South African Monkey_ and a rabbit live next to the cage +inhabited by the panting Polar bear.[13] + +The little monkey is sick to death of the eternal clambering up and down +the bars of the cage, and the swing which dangles over her head does not +amuse her any more. Sadly she sits there upon her straw-covered prison +floor, in one hand she holds a half-withered carrot, which she turns +over once again to see if it looks equally unappetising on every side, +while with the other she sorrowfully scratches the rabbit's back. Now +and then she gets interested, drops the carrot, and attentively with +both hands explores some suspicious-looking spot on her companion's +mangy back and pulls out a few hairs, which she carefully examines. But +soon she wearies of the rabbit also, and does not know in the least what +to do with herself. She looks round in the straw, but there is nothing +to be seen but the carrot; she looks round the bare, slippery walls of +her cage, but neither there is there anything of the slightest interest +to be found. And at last she has nothing else to do but, for the +hundredth time that hour, to jump into the swing, only to leap on to the +floor the next minute and seat herself again, leaning against the +rabbit. The spectators call this jumping for joy, but the poor little +monkey knows how jolly it is. + +The rabbit is resigned. The captivity of generations has stupefied +him--the longing for liberty has died ages ago from out of his +degenerated hare-brain. He hopes for nothing, but he desires nothing. He +has no social talents; he is in no way qualified to entertain his +restless friend; and besides that, he fails to grasp the situation. But +he rewards the monkey to the best of his abilities for the little +offices of friendship which she performs for him; and when the gas has +been turned out, and the cold night air enters the tent, then the +Northerner lends his warm fur coat to the trembling little Southerner, +and nestling close to one another they await the new day. + +The inhabitant of the cage in yonder corner has not been advertised at +all upon the placard outside. He is not to be seen just now; perhaps he +is asleep for a while in his dark, little bedroom; but every one who +catches sight of that wire wheel knows that it is a _Squirrel_ who lives +here. What he has to do in a menagerie is more than I can say, for on +that point the zoological education of the public should surely be +completed--we all know what the squirrel looks like. Superstitious +people of my country say that it is an evil omen if a squirrel crosses +their path. I don't know where they got hold of that idea, but maybe +they have taken it from a squirrel--for the squirrel believes exactly in +the same way if a man crosses his path, and, alas! he has got reason +enough for his belief. I, on the contrary, have always thought it a +piece of good luck whenever I have happened to come across a little +squirrel. Often enough while roaming through the woods and halting with +grateful joy at every other step before some new wonder in the fairyland +of nature--often enough have I caught a glimpse of the graceful, nimble, +little fellow swinging himself high overhead on some leafy branch, or +carefully peeping out from his little twig cottage, watching with his +bright eyes whether any schoolboys were lurking beneath his tree. "Come +along, little man," I then would say in squirrel language; "true enough, +I did not turn out the man I had been expected to become when at school; +but, thank God! I have at least arrived so far in knowledge that I have +learned to feel tender sympathy for you and yours!" We were, alas! not +taught this at school in my days; we exchanged birds' eggs for old +stamps; we shot small birds with guns as big as ourselves--and now let +him who can come and deny the doctrine of original sin! We were cruel to +animals, like all savages. To the best of my abilities do I now +endeavour to expiate the wrong I was then guilty of. But an evil action +never dies; and I know of bloodstains on tiny boys' fingers which have +rusted to stains of shame in the childhood recollections of the man. To +my humiliation I have shot many a little bird, and many another did I +keep imprisoned. Regretfully do I also own to having killed a squirrel; +treacherously did I plunder his home, and his little one did I imprison +in just such another cage as the one we now stand in front of. See! +there comes the little squirrel out from his bedroom and begins to run +round and round in his wire wheel. He has made the same attempt +thousands and thousands of times, and yet he makes it once again. Yes, +it looks very pretty! when I used to watch my squirrel running round and +round in his wire wheel in precisely the same way, and at last the wheel +was turning so rapidly that I could not distinguish the bars, I thought +it was capital fun. I know now why he runs; he runs in anxious longing +for freedom; he runs as long as he has strength to run; for neither is +_he_ able to distinguish any more the bars of the turning wheel. He may +run a mile and still he is hedged in by the same prison bars. The simple +invention is almost diabolically cunning; it is the wheel of Ixion in +the Tartarus of pain to which mankind has banished animals. + +Here you see a _Wolf from Siberia_. The wolf is also, as is well known, +a dangerous, wild beast. When the cold is extreme, and the snow lies +very deep, the wolves approach the habitation of man, and in starving +crowds they follow any sledge they meet--they have even been known in +very rare cases to attack the horses. We have all read that terrible +story of the Russian peasant on his way home across the deserted +snow-fields; he heard the panting of the wolves behind his sledge, and +he could see their eyes glitter through the darkness of the night, and +in order to save his own life he had to throw one of his children to +the wolves. + +The negro informs you that the wild beast in this cage was caught young; +the she-wolf as usual was killed while attempting to save her cub. + +The bottom of the cage is shining like a parquet floor from the +continual tramping up and down of the prisoner within, for he knows no +rest. Night and day he paces to and fro, his head bent low as though in +search of some outlet of escape; he will never find it; he will die +behind those bars even as the prisoners in his own country die in their +irons. + +The big _Parrot_ on her perch over there sheds the one ray of light on +this dark picture. The parrot I need not describe to you, for you know +the species well. This one hails, we are told, from the New World, but +one comes across a good many parrots in the Old World also. The parrot +is a universal favourite and is to be found in nearly every house. The +parrot is not unhappy; she is unconscious of the chain round her leg, +she does not realise that she was born with wings. She is undisturbed by +any unnecessary brain activity; she eats, she sleeps, trims her gorgeous +feather cloak, and chatters ceaselessly from morning till night. Left to +herself she is silent, for she is only able to repeat what others have +said before her, and this she does so cleverly that often, on hearing +some one chatter, I have to ask myself whether it be a human being or a +parrot. . . . + +The ragged, attenuated animal standing over there and gazing at us with +her soft, sad eyes is a _Chamois from Switzerland_. The chamois is a +rarity in a menagerie, for, as is well known, it usually frets to death +during the first year of its captivity. I look at the poor animal with a +feeling of oppression at my heart which you can scarcely realise--I have +breathed the free air of the high mountains myself, and I know why the +chamois dies in prison. Those were other times, poor captive chamois, +when you were roving on the Alpine meadows amidst rhododendrons and +myrtillus; when on high, over a precipice, I saw your beautiful +silhouette standing out against the clear, bright sky! You had no need +of an alpenstock, you, to climb up there, where I watched the aerial +play of your graceful limbs amongst the rocks. Up to the realm of ice +you led the way, high on the slopes of Monte Rosa has my clumsy, human +foot trodden the snow in the track of your dainty mountain shoes. Ay, +those were other times, poor prisoner!--those were other times both for +you and me, and we had better say no more about them. + +Yonder stalwart, muscular ape is a _Baboon_; _aged, Abyssinian male_, +stands written under his cage. He sits there, wrapped in thought, +fingering a straw. Now and then he casts a rapid glance around him, and +be sure he is not so absent-minded as he looks. The eye is intelligent +but malevolent; its owner is a candidate for humanity. + +When the negro approaches his cage he shows him a row of teeth not very +unlike the negro's own--the family likeness between the two faces is, +for the matter of that, unmistakable. The negro cautions the public +against accepting the wrinkled hand which the old baboon extends between +the bars. I always treat him to an extra lump of sugar ever since the +negro told me he once bit off the thumb of an old woman who poked her +umbrella at him. Besides, I look at him with veneration, for he comes +from an illustrious family. Who knows whether he is not an ill-starred +descendant of that heroic old baboon whom Brehm once met in +Abyssinia?--The negro is sure to know nothing of that story, so I may as +well tell it you. One day, while travelling in Abyssinia, the great +German naturalist fell in with a whole troop of baboons, who, bound for +some high rocks, were marching along a narrow defile. The rear had not +yet emerged from the defile when the dogs of Brehm and his companions +rushed forward and barred their passage. Seeing the danger the other +baboons, who had already reached the rocks, then descended in a body to +the rescue of the attacked, and they screamed so terribly that the dogs +actually fell back; the whole troop of baboons was now filing off in +perfect order when the dogs were again set at them. All the apes, +however, reached the rocks in safety, with the exception of one +half-year-old baboon who happened to have been lagging behind; he was +surrounded on all sides by the open-mouthed dogs, and with loud cries of +distress he jumped on to a big boulder. At this juncture a huge baboon +stepped down from the rocks for the second time, advanced alone to the +stone where the little one was crouching, patted him on the back, lifted +him gently down, and so led him off triumphantly before the very noses +of the dogs, who were so taken by surprise that it never even occurred +to them to attack him. One need not have read Darwin to pronounce that +baboon a hero. + +I have noticed that even kind-hearted spectators do not seem to feel +very much commiseration for captive monkeys. The ape is playing in the +menagerie the same role as Don Quixote in literature--the superficial +observer looks upon them as exclusively comical, and only laughs at +them. But the attentive looker-on knows that the solitary monkey's life +behind the bars is in its way nothing but a tragedy, as well as +Cervantes' immortal book is nothing but a mournful epic. With tender +emotion he feels how an increasing sympathy mingles in his pitiful smile +the more he gets to know of them, these two superannuated types: Don +Quixote, the simple-minded, would-be hero, still lagging on the scene +long after the _epopee_ of chivalry has departed in the twilight of +mediaeval mysticism; and the ape, the phantom from the vanishing animal +world, over whose hairy human face already falls the dawn of the +birthday of the first man. + +This baboon may perhaps appear to you very ugly, but we know that the +perception of physical beauty is an entirely individual one, and it is +quite possible that the baboon on his side finds us very ugly. You +cannot help smiling now and then when standing and watching him, but, at +least, try not to let him see it, for, like all monkeys, it saddens and +irritates him to be laughed at to his face. This old baboon is deeply +unhappy, for, as he has got more brains than the other animals in the +menagerie, his capacity for suffering is consequently greater--for we +all know that suffering is an intellectual function. He alone realises +the hopelessness of his situation, and his restless brain-activity +refuses him the relative oblivion which resignation vouchsafes to many +others of his companions in distress. + +But as a compensation he possesses one quality which the other animals +lack, and it is the possession of this quality which saves him from +falling into hypochondria;--it is his sense of humour. That the monkey +is a born humorist every one knows who has had the opportunity of +observing him in society--for instance, in the monkey-house at the Zoo. +This sense of humour does not even desert the poor monkey kept in +solitary confinement. And sometimes when I have been standing here for a +while watching the mimicry of this old baboon I have involuntarily had +to ask myself whether he were not making fun of me. . . . + +The negro has finished his recital, and it is time for the show-piece of +the evening to come off. The spectators crowd in front of the +lion-cage, dividing their admiration between Brutus, the Nubian lion, +behind the bars and the keeper who, unarmed, is about to enter the cage. +The man throws off his overcoat and the "Lion King" stands before us in +all his pride, pink tights, riding-boots, and his gold-laced breast +covered with decorations--from Nubia likewise even these. He is small of +stature like Napoleon, and the constant intercourse with the wild beasts +has given his face a rough and repulsive expression. He reeks of brandy, +to counteract the stale smell of the cage, and his pomatumed hair curls +neatly round his low-sloping forehead. The negro hands him a whip, and +the solemn moment is at hand. Proudly the Lion King creeps into the +cage, and proudly he cracks his whip at the half-sleeping Brutus. The +lion raises himself with a sullen roar, and, hugging the walls, begins +to wander round his cage. Proudly the Lion King stretches out his whip, +and obediently like a dog Brutus leaps lazily over it. Proudly the +negro hands his master a hoop, and wearily and dejectedly Brutus jumps +through it. Brutus is sulky to-night; he does not roar as he ought to +do. Things look up, however, towards the end of the performance, when +the Lion King, standing in a corner of the cage, paralyses Brutus with a +proud look just as he is about to attack him. Brutus is no longer +obstinate, but roars irreproachably, and shows his yellow fang. A few +half-smothered cries of alarm are heard from the audience, an old woman +faints, a pistol is fired off while the Lion King, under cover of the +smoke, hurriedly and proudly creeps out of the cage. + +Captive lion, have you then forgotten that once you were a king +yourself, that once there was a time when all men trembled at your +approach, that the forest grew silent when your imperious voice +resounded? Fallen monarch, awake from the degradation of your thraldom; +rise giant-like and let the thunder of your royal voice be heard once +more! + +Brutus, Brutus, vindicator of lost freedom, you are too proud to be a +slave! Rend asunder the chains which coward human cunning has bound +around the sleeping power of your limbs! + +Shake your flaming lion mane, and, strong as Samson, in your mighty +wrath bring down the prison walls around you to crush the Philistines +assembled here to jeer at the impotence of their once dreaded enemy! + +Brutus, Brutus, vindicator of lost freedom! + +[Footnote 13: Perhaps you are not aware of the common practice in +menageries of keeping a rabbit in the monkey's cage for the sake of +warmth.] + + + + + ITALY IN PARIS + + +At one time I had many patients in the Roussel Yard. Ten or twelve +families lived there, but none were so badly off, I believe, as the +Salvatore family. At Salvatore's it was so dark that they were obliged +to burn a little oil-lamp the whole day, and there was no fireplace +except a brazier which stood in the middle of the floor. Damp as a +cellar it was at all times; but when it rained the water penetrated into +the room, which lay a couple of feet lower than the street. + +And nevertheless one could see in everything a kind of pathetic struggle +against the gloomy impression which the dwelling itself made. Old +illustrated papers were pasted up round the walls, the bed was neat and +clean, and behind an old curtain in one corner, the family's little +wardrobe was hung up in the neatest order. Salvatore himself, with +skilful hand, had made the little girl's bed out of an old box, and in +the day one could sit upon it as if it were a sofa. The corner shelf +where the Madonna stood was adorned with bright-coloured paper flowers, +and there, too, the small treasures of the family lay spread out,--the +gilt brooch which Salvatore had presented to his wife when they were +married; the string of corals which her brother had brought from the +coral fishery in "Barbaria" (Algeria); the two gorgeous cups out of +which coffee was drunk on solemn occasions; and there, too, stood the +wonderful porcelain dog which Concetta had once received as a present +from a grand lady, and which was only taken down on Sundays to be +admired more closely. + +I did not understand how the mother managed it; but the little girls +were always neat and tidy in their outgrown clothes, and their faces +shone, so washed and polished were they. The eldest child, Concetta, had +been at the free school for more than half a year; and it was the +mother's pride to make her read aloud to me out of her book. She herself +had never learned to read, and although I allowed myself to be told that +Salvatore read very well, neither he nor I had ever ventured to try his +capabilities. Now, since Petruccio could hardly ever get out of bed, +Concetta had been obliged to give up going to school, so that she might +stay at home with her sick brother whilst _la mamma_ was at her work +away in the eating-house. This place could not be given up, as not only +did she get ten sous a day for washing dishes, but sometimes she could +bring home scraps under her apron, which no one else could turn to +account, but out of which she managed to make a capital soup for +Petruccio. + +Salvatore himself worked the whole day away in La Villette. He was +obliged to be at the stone-mason's yard at six o'clock every morning, +and it was much too far to go home during the mid-day rest. Sometimes it +happened that I was there when he came home in the evening after his +day's work, and then he looked very proudly at me when Petruccio +stretched out his arms towards him. He took his little son up so +carefully with his big horny hands, lifted him on his broad shoulders, +and tenderly leaned his sunburnt cheek against the sick little one's +waxen face. Petruccio sat quite quiet and silent on his father's arm; +sometimes he laid hold of his father's matted beard with his thin +fingers, and then Salvatore looked very happy. "_Vedete, Signor +dottore_," he then would say, "_n'e vero che sta meglio sta sera?_"[14] +He received his week's wages every Saturday, and then he always came +home triumphantly with a little toy for his son, and both father and +mother knelt down beside the bed to see how Petruccio liked it. +Petruccio, alas! liked scarcely anything. He took the toy in his hand, +but that was all. Petruccio's face was old and withered, and his solemn, +weary eyes were not the eyes of a child. I had never known him cry or +complain, but neither had I seen him smile except once when he was given +a great hairy horse--a horse which stretched out its tongue when one +turned it upside down. But it was not every day that a horse like that +could be got. + +Petruccio was four years old, but he could not speak. He would lie hour +after hour quite quiet and silent, but he did not sleep: his great eyes +stood wide open, and it seemed as if he saw something far beyond the +narrow walls of the room--"_Sta sempre in pensiero_,"[15] said +Salvatore. + +Petruccio was supposed to understand everything which was said around +him, and nothing of importance was undertaken in the little family +without first trying to discover Petruccio's opinion of the affair; and +if any one believed that they could read disapproval in the features of +the soulless little one, the whole question fell to the ground at once, +and it was afterwards found that Petruccio had almost always been right. + +On Sundays Salvatore sat at home, and there were usually some other +holiday-dressed workmen visiting him, and in low-toned voices they sat +and argued about wages, about news from _il paese_, and sometimes +Salvatore treated them to a litre of wine, and they played a game, _alla +scopa_. Sometimes it was supposed that Petruccio wished to look on, and +then his little bed was moved to the bench where they sat; and sometimes +Petruccio wished to be alone, and then Salvatore and his guests moved +out into the passage. I had, however, remarked that Petruccio's wish to +be alone, and the consequent removal of the company to the passage, +usually happened when the wife was away: if she were at home she saw +plainly that Petruccio wished his father to stay indoors and not go out +with the others. And Petruccio was right enough there, too. Salvatore +was not very difficult to persuade if one of the guests wished to treat +him in his turn. Once out in the passage, it happened often enough that +he went off to the wine-shop too. And once there, it was not so easy for +Salvatore to get away again. + +What was still more difficult was the coming home. His wife forgave him +certainly,--she had done it so many times before; but Salvatore knew +that Petruccio was inexorable, and the thicker the mist of intoxication +fell over him, the more crushed did he feel himself under Petruccio's +reproachful eye. No dissimulation helped here; Petruccio saw through it +at once. Petruccio could even see how much he had drunk, as Salvatore +himself confided to me one Sunday evening when I came upon him sitting +out in the passage, in the deepest repentance. Salvatore was, alas! +obviously uncertain in his speech that evening, and it did not need +Petruccio's perspicacity to see that he had drunk more than usual. I +asked him if he would not go in, but he wished to remain outside to get +_un poco d'aria_; he was, however, very anxious to know if Petruccio +were awake or not, and I promised to come out and tell him. I also +thought it was best he should sit out there till his head should clear +itself a little bit, though not so much for Petruccio's sake as to spare +his wife; and for that matter this was not the first time I had been +Salvatore's confidant in the like difficult situation. They who see the +lives of the poor near at hand cannot be very severe upon a working man +who, after he has toiled twelve hours a day the whole week, sometimes +gets a little wine into his head. It is a melancholy fact, but we must +judge it leniently; for we must not forget that here at least society +has hardly offered the poorer classes any other distraction. + +I therefore advised my friend Salvatore to sit outside till I came back, +and I went in alone. Inside sat the wife with her child of sorrow in her +arms; and the even breathing of the little girls could be heard from the +box. Petruccio was supposed to know me very well, and even to be fond of +me--although he had never shown it in any way, nor, as far as I knew, +had any sort of feeling ever been mirrored in his face. The mother's +eye, so clear-sighted in everything, nevertheless did not see that there +was no soul in the child's vacant eye; the mother's ear, so sensible to +each breath of the little one, yet did not hear that the confused +sounds which sometimes came from his lips would never form themselves +into human speech. Petruccio had been ill from his birth, his body was +shrunken, and no thought lived under the child's wrinkled forehead. +Unhappily I could do nothing for him; all I could hope for was that the +ill-favoured little one should soon die. And it looked as if his release +were near. That Petruccio had been worse for some time both the mother +and I had understood; and this evening he was so feeble that he was not +able to hold his head up. Petruccio had refused all food since +yesterday, and Salvatore's wife, when I came in, was just trying to +persuade him, with all the sweet words which only a mother knows, to +swallow a little milk; but he would not. In vain the mother put the +spoon to his mouth and said that it was wonderfully good, in vain did +she appeal to my presence, "_Per fare piacere al Signor +dottore_,"--Petruccio would not. His forehead was puckered, and his +eyes had a look of painful anxiety, but no complaint came from his +tightly compressed lips. + +Suddenly the mother gave a scream. Petruccio's face was distorted with +cramp, and a strong convulsion shook his whole little body. The attack +was soon over; and whilst Petruccio was being laid in his bed, I tried +to calm the mother as well as I could by telling her that children often +had convulsions which were of very little importance, and that there was +no further danger from this one now. I looked up and I saw Salvatore, +who stood leaning against the door-post. He had taken courage, and had +staggered to the door, and, unseen by us, he had witnessed that sight so +terrifying to unaccustomed eyes. He was pale as a corpse, and great +tears ran down the cheeks which had been so lately flushed with drink. +"_Castigo di Dio! Castigo di Dio!_"[16] muttered he with trembling +voice; and he fell on his knees by the door, as if he dared not approach +the feeble cripple who seemed to him like God's mighty avenger. + +The unconscious little son had once more shown his father the right way; +Salvatore went no more to the wine-shop. + +Petruccio grew worse and worse, and the mother no longer left his side. +And it was scarcely a month after she lost her place that Salvatore's +accident happened: he fell from a scaffolding and broke his leg. He was +taken to the Lariboisiere Hospital; and the company for whom he worked +paid fifty centimes a day to his family, which they were not obliged to +do,--so that Salvatore's wife had to be very grateful for it. Every +Thursday--the visiting day at the hospital--she was with him for an +hour; and I too saw him now and then. The days went on, and with +Petruccio's mother want increased more and more. The porcelain dog +stood alone now on the Madonna's shelf; and it was not long before the +holiday clothes went the same way as the treasures--to the pawnshop. +Petruccio needed broth and milk every day, and he had them. The little +girls too had enough, I believe, to satisfy them more or less; but what +the mother herself lived upon I do not know. + +I had already tried many times to take Petruccio to the children's +hospital, where he would have been much better off, but as usual all my +powers of eloquence could not achieve this: the poor, as is well known, +will hardly ever be separated from their sick children. The lower middle +class and the town artisans have learnt to understand the value of the +hospital, but the really poor mother, whose culture is very low, will +not leave the side of her sick child: the exceptions to this rule are +extremely rare. + +And so came the 15th, the dreaded day when the quarter's rent must be +paid, when the working man drags his mattress to the pawn-shop, and the +wife draws off her ring, which in her class means much more than in +ours; the day full of terror, when numberless suppliants stand with +lowered heads before their landlord, and when hundreds of families do +not know where they will sleep the next night. + +I happened to pass by there on that very evening, and at the door stood +Salvatore's little girl crying all to herself. I asked her why she +cried, but that she did not know; at last, however, I learned that she +cried because "_la mamma piange tanto_."[17] Inside the yard I ran +against my friend Archangelo Fusco, the street-sweeper, who lived next +door to the Salvatores. He was occupied in dragging his bed out into the +yard, and I did not need to wait for his explanation to understand that +he had been evicted.[18] I asked him where he was going to move to, and +he hoped to sleep that night at the Refuge in the Rue Tocqueville, and +afterwards he must find out some other place. Inside sat Salvatore's +wife crying by Petruccio's bed, and on the table stood a bundle +containing the clothes of the family. The Salvatore family had not been +able to pay their rent, and the Salvatore family had been evicted. The +landlord had been there that afternoon, and had said that the room was +let from the morning of the next day. I asked her where she thought of +going, and she said she did not know. + +I had often heard the dreaded landlord talked of; the year before I had +witnessed the same sorrowful scene, when he had turned out into the +street a couple of unhappy families and laid hands upon the little they +possessed. I had never seen him personally, but I thought it might be +useful in my study of human nature to make his acquaintance. Archangelo +Fusco offered to take me to him, and we set forth slowly. On the way my +companion informed me that the landlord was "_molto ricco_"; besides the +whole court he owned a large house in the vicinity, and this did not +surprise me in the least, because I had long known that he secretly +carried on that most lucrative of all professions--money-lending to the +poor. Archangelo Fusco considered that he on his side had nothing to +gain by a meeting with the landlord, and after he had told me that +besides the rent he also owed him ten francs, we agreed that he should +only accompany me to the entrance. + +A shabbily-dressed old man, with a bloated, disagreeable face opened the +door carefully, and after he had looked me over, admitted me into the +room. I mentioned my errand, and asked him to allow Salvatore to settle +his rent in a few days' time. I told him that Salvatore himself lay in +the hospital, that the child was dying, and that his severity towards +these poor people was inhuman cruelty. He asked who I was, and I +answered that I was a friend of the family. He looked at me, and with an +ugly laugh he said that I could best show that by at once paying their +rent. I felt the blood rushing to my head, I hope and believe it was +only with anger, for one never ought to blush because one is not rich. I +listened for a couple of minutes whilst he abused my poor destitute +Italians with the coarsest words; he said that they were a dirty +thieving pack, who did not deserve to be treated like human beings; that +Salvatore drank up his wages; that the street-sweeper had stolen ten +francs from him; and that they all of them well deserved the misery in +which they lived. + +I asked if he needed this money just now, and from his answer I +understood that here no prayers would avail. He was rich; he owned over +50,000 francs in money, he said, and he had begun with nothing of his +own. It is a melancholy fact that the man who has risen from destitution +to riches is usually cruel to the poor: one would hope and believe the +contrary, but this is unhappily the case. + +My intention when I went there was to endeavour with diplomatic cunning +to effect a kind of arrangement, but alas! I was not the man for that. I +lost my temper altogether and went further than I had intended to do, as +usual. At first he answered me scornfully and with coarse insults, but +he soon grew silent, and I ended by talking alone I should say for +nearly an hour's time. It would serve no purpose to relate what I said +to him; there are occasions when it is legitimate to show one's anger in +action, but it is always stupid to show it in words. I said to him, +however, that this money which had been squeezed out of the poor was +the wages of sin; that his debt to all these poor human beings was far +greater than theirs to him. I pointed to the crucifix which hung against +the wall, and I said that if any divine justice was to be found on this +earth, vengeance could not fail to reach him, and that no prayers could +buy his deliverance from the punishment which awaited him, for his life +was stained with the greatest of all sins--namely cruelty towards the +poor. "And take care, old blood-sucker!" I shouted out at last with +threatening voice; "You owe your money to the poor, but you owe yourself +to the devil, and the hour is near when he will demand his own again!" I +checked myself, startled, for the man sank down in his chair as if +touched by an unseen hand, and pale as death, he stared at me with a +terror which I felt communicated itself to me. The curse I had just +called down rang still in my ears with a strange uncanny sound, which I +did not recognise; and it seemed to me as if there were some one else +in the room besides us two. + +I was so agitated that I have no recollection of how I came away. When I +got home it was already late, but I did not sleep a wink all night; and +even to this day I think with wonder of the waking dream which that +night filled me with an inconceivable emotion. I dreamt that I had +condemned a man to death. + +When I got there in the forenoon the blow had already fallen upon me. I +_knew_ what had happened although no human being had told me. All the +inhabitants of the yard were assembled before the door in eager talk. +"_Sapete Signor dottore?_"[19] they called out as soon as they saw me. + +"Yes, I know," answered I, and hurried to Salvatore's. I bent down over +Petruccio and pretended to examine his chest; but breathless I listened +to every word that the wife said to me. + +The landlord had come down there late yesterday evening, she said. The +little girl had run away and hidden herself when he came into the room; +but Concetta had remained behind her mother's chair, and when he asked +why they were so afraid of him, Concetta had answered because he was so +cruel to mamma. He had sat there upon the bench a long time without +saying a word, but he did not look angry, Salvatore's wife thought. At +last he said to her she need not be anxious about the rent; she could +wait to pay it till next time. And when he left he laid a five-franc +piece upon the table to buy something for Petruccio. Outside the door he +had met Archangelo Fusco with his bed on a hand-cart, preparing to take +himself off, and he had told the street-sweeper too that he could remain +in his lodging. He had asked Archangelo Fusco about me, and Archangelo +Fusco, who judged me with friendship's all-forgiving forbearance, had +said nothing unkind about me. He had then gone on his way, and +according to what was discovered by the police investigations he had, +contrary to his habit, passed the evening in the wine-shop close by, and +the porter had thought he looked drunk when he came home. As he lived +quite alone, and for fear of thieves or from avarice, attended to his +housekeeping himself, no one knew what had happened; but lights were +burning in the house the whole night, and when he did not come down in +the morning, and his door was fastened inside, they had begun to suspect +foul play and sent for the police. He was still warm when they cut him +down; but the doctor whom the police sent for said that he had already +been dead a couple of hours. They had not been able to discover the +smallest reason for his hanging himself. All that was known was that he +had been visited in the evening by a strange gentleman who had stayed +with him more than an hour, and the neighbours had heard a violent +dispute going on inside. No one in the house had seen the strange +gentleman before, and no one knew who he was. + + * * * * * + +The Roussel Yard belongs now to the dead man's brother; and to my joy +the new landlord's first action was to have the rooms in it repaired, so +that now they look more habitable. He also lowered the rents. + +The Salvatores moved thence when Petruccio died; but the place is still +full of Italians. I go there now and then; and in spite of all the talk +about the Paris doctors' _jalousie de metier_, I have never yet met any +one who tried to supplant me in this practice. + +[Footnote 14: "Is it not true that he is better to-night?"] + +[Footnote 15: "He lies always buried in thought."] + +[Footnote 16: "The punishment of God."] + +[Footnote 17: "Mamma cries so."] + +[Footnote 18: The landlord can take everything in such cases except the +bed and the clothes.] + +[Footnote 19: "Do you know, doctor?"] + + + + + BLACKCOCK-SHOOTING + + +The passion for the chase is man's passion for pursuing, and if possible +killing, animals living in liberty. The passion for the chase is the +expression of the same impulse of the stronger to overthrow the weaker +which goes through the whole animal series. The wild beast's lust for +murder has been tamed to unconscious instinct, and thousand years of +culture lie between our wild ancestors who slew each other with stone +axes for a piece of raw fish, and the sportsman of our day. But it is +only the method which has been refined, the principle is the same. + +The passion for killing is an animal instinct, and as such, impossible +to eradicate. But it behoves man, conscious of his high rank, to +struggle against this vice of his wild childhood, this phantom from the +grave in which sleep the progenitors of his race. + +I cannot give you here in detail my proposals for new game laws--the +matter is not yet quite ripe--but I am very willing to explain the +fundamental principle on which they rest. I maintain that the very great +start which mankind has gained through the law of natural selection has +made the struggle between the man and the animal _too unequal to be +fair_; I maintain that killing animals is an unmanly and an ignoble +occupation. + +Yes, but as regards wild beasts, wolves, foxes, etc., you don't really +mean to stand up for them? Of course I do! First of all it has never +been proved that the wild animals attacked man the first. And in the +hopeless, defensive warfare in which the animals with vanishing strength +struggle against mankind, all my sympathies are unhesitatingly given to +the weaker. Yes, it is quite true that now and then they take a hen or +a sheep from us; but what is that in comparison with all we take from +them, from woods and fields which were meant to be their larder as well +as ours? And do not talk too much about the ferocity of the wolf, you +men, who have the heart treacherously to put out poisoned food for the +starving animal! Perhaps you have not seen this way of killing wolves, +but I have. I have seen the victim's agony written in the snow; seen how +he has walked a little way and then begun to totter; has fallen, and +with ebbing strength tried to get up again; in mad delirium has rolled +in the snow whilst the poison was burning his bowels, and then at last +has lain down to die. And I have watched the trapper when he joyfully +came to seize his prey. + +Do not talk too much about the cunning of the fox, you men who have +invented the spring-traps which cut into his leg when he tries to take +the lying bait which you have set out for him. In England you have not +seen this way of catching foxes, but I have. I have seen the prisoner +struggling with his last strength to get free, with the blood flowing +from his wounded leg, cut to the bone by the sharp iron; I have heard +the animal's moan far off in the night, and I have seen the footmarks in +the snow of his comrades, who have anxiously roamed around. + +"But this is horrible! how is it possible that such a thing can be +allowed?" + +"Yes, you are right; it is horrible; but this is the death which awaits +many foxes both in Russia and Scandinavia, and in Germany too." + +"In England it would be considered a crime to kill a fox in that way." + +"Yes, I know well that England is the country for lovers of animals. +What a fine graceful animal is the fox----" + +"Only think what would become of the noblest of all sports, that of +fox-hunting----" + +Fox-hunting! and you call that a noble sport? I will tell you what +fox-hunting is--no, I think I will not tell you. I will only say that +were I a fox, I think I would rather try to cross the Channel and become +a continental fox than to be hunted to death by your hounds and your +spurred horses. And the spur which urges you on, what is that? The love +of galloping away on a fiery horse in wild chase over hedge and +ditch--ah! I understand that joy well! But why must you have an animal +flying in terror for its life before you? Why not leave the pursuers and +the pursued to themselves if the latter is doomed to die and has to die? +Why do you wish to witness his desperate struggle for life against his +manifold stronger enemy? And why, if everything be all right, do you +often enough feel something akin to satisfaction if by chance the fox +escapes? I only ask, I dare not answer--I dare not for fear of my +Editor. And I think we had better drop this subject altogether; it is +too dangerous a one to discuss before an English public. + +Once when travelling in Norway I heard of a famous man, the wealthiest +of that country. I was told he had made his fame and his money as a +promoter of a new method of catching whales. Nature to protect the +whales has given them their slippery coat and their thick lining of +blubber, but that man has overreached Nature. He kills them with +dynamite. You ask, as I did, when I heard the horrible story, if that +man has not been hanged. Alas, my poor friend! we do not understand the +world at all; the man has by no means been hanged. True that a cord has +been put round his neck, but it was the cord of Commander of St. +Olaf--_sapristi!_ they are not very particular in that country! I am +very sorry for him, but were I to meet that man I would decline to shake +hands with him. What have the whales done to man to be treated in this +way? Have they not always been inoffensive and harmless ever since that +kind old whale who happened to swallow the prophet Jonah, and then spat +him carefully back on the shore? Only think what a horrible idea to +blast in pieces a sensitive body as one blasts in pieces a rock! Think +what a barbarous conception of man's position towards animals is here +allowed to be put in practice, think of that--before the man is promoted +to a Grand Cross of his St. Olaf! + +Before giving the last touches to my new game-laws--the fundamental +principles of which I have hinted to you--I am perfectly willing to +listen to any legitimate claims of the sportsman, and I shall be glad to +try to satisfy them if they do not harm the animals. But on one point I +am firm. Under no pretext shall children be allowed to shoot, on account +of the great development this occupation gives to the instinctive +cruelty of the child, and the rude colour it lends to the formation of +the whole character. Kindness to our inferiors we ought to be taught as +children; life will surely teach us to grow hard enough. Nor are +children to be allowed to watch shooting; for men's faces turn so ugly +when they are pursuing a flying animal, and the child should be +protected as much as possible from the sight of anything unbeautiful. + +Ah! I remember so well a little lad up in Sweden who had escaped from +school one clear spring morning. He saw how the trees were budding and +the meadows in flower, and high up in the air he heard the song of the +first skylark. The boy lay down silently in the grass and listened with +thankfulness and joy. He knew well what the skylark sang: it sang that +the long winter was over, and that it was springtime in the North. And +he stared at the little bird high up in the bright air; he stared at it +till the tears came into his eyes. He would have liked to kiss the wings +which had borne it far over the wide sea home again; he would have liked +to warm it at his heart in the frosty spring nights; he would have liked +to guard its summer nest from all evil. Yes, surely the skylark could +have remained longer in the land of eternal summer! But it knew that up +in the cold North there wandered about men longing for spring breezes +and summer sun, for flowers and song of birds. So it flew home, the +courageous little bird, home to the frozen field from where the pale +morning sun melted the white frost-flowers of the night, where primroses +and anemones were waking up from their winter sleep. With the head +hidden under the down of its wings it kept out the cold of the night, +and when the horizon brightened, it flew up and sang its joyful morning +hymn--sang Nature's promise of life-bringing sun. But the next day the +boy read in the newspaper under the title: _Forerunner of +Spring_--"Yesterday the first skylark of the year was shot, and brought +to the Kings palace." Man had killed the innocent little bird on whose +wings Spring had flown to the North, and whose little songster's heart +was beating with Nature's jubilant joy! And in the palace they had eaten +the gray-coated little messenger of summer! That day the boy swore his +Hannibal oath against shooting. And when he fell asleep that night he +dreamt about a republican rebellion. + + * * * * * + +Do not believe that this is nothing but theoretical nonsense--that I am +discussing matters of which I know nothing. For there was a time when I +felt the fascination of the gun myself; there was a time when I too was +a great shot. The man who is now sitting here and scribbling about his +love for animals, shoots no more; but it is with an indulgent smile on +his lips that he looks back upon the whimsical sportsman of bygone days. + +Yes, I have been a sportsman--a great sportsman. I have often made long +journeys to join shooting parties, and more than once there was no one +in the whole company who fired off as many cartridges as I did. All my +best friends were amongst sportsmen, and it was seldom indeed I failed +to be present on the opening day of the season. We had lots of good +sport about my place, but the best was blackcock-shooting. Do you know +anything about blackcock-shooting? A very fine sport. How many pleasant +recollections have I not from those happy sporting days! how many joyful +rambles through the silent forests! how many peaceful hours passed away +in half-waking dreams, with the head leaning against a mossy hillock +and soft murmuring pines all around! And how happy, too, was my poor old +Tom during these never-to-be-forgotten days of sport! How glad was he to +scamper about on the soft moss instead of the stones of the streets! how +contentedly he lay down to harmonious contemplations by my side--so near +that I could now and then caress his beautiful head and catch a friendly +glance from his half-open eyes. He knew I was always in splendid temper +on those shooting days, and that was all he required to be perfectly +happy himself. But if I begin to speak about my dear old dog we shall +never arrive at the blackcock, and it is about them I want to speak +to-day. + +The gamekeeper had long known the whereabouts of the birds, and +carefully exploring the woods he had often enough heard the call of the +hen; the blackcock chicks had, so to speak, grown up under his eyes, and +he had tried in all sorts of ways to take care of them, the good +gamekeeper! And now since they had grown up, the important thing had +been to keep them undisturbed lest they should be dispersed. We +sportsmen came down the day before the opening day, and well do I +remember those pleasant evenings, with a stroll in the forest to clear +the lungs from the dust of the town, and then supper in the gamekeeper's +cottage in excellent company, flavoured with stories of first-rate shots +and marvellous adventures. At first I used to be rather shy, and would +silently sit and listen to the others' wonderful tales, but I soon got +to learn the trick, and having once mastered the technical terms, I had +shot every kind of game at every conceivable range. After dinner, when +we got hold of our pipes, I had killed swallows with bullets at +tremendous distances, and my friends began to consult me about guns and +cartridges and all the other paraphernalia, and were most anxious to +have my advice about the arrangements for the next day. Tom lay beside +us in the grass and stared with solemn dignity at the company, winking +knowingly at me with one eye when no one else was looking, whilst I was +telling them about his pedigree and some of his most astounding +achievements. When we had delivered ourselves of all our stories, and +every one's power of invention had come to an end, we began to yawn, and +soon dispersed to our sleeping-quarters to gain strength for next day's +hard work. + +I remember so well my first blackcock. I had happened to come upon the +birds during a short walk with the gamekeeper in the afternoon, and I +had heard the mother's anxious call, and had seen some clumsy blackcock +children following after her into the forest. I was so excited that I +could not close my eyes all night, and could think of nothing but +blackcock. Outside, the enchanting summer night allured me to its +darkening fells and mysterious woods, and it was as though I could see +before my eyes the condemned blackcock where they sat and slept their +last sleep. Everything was still in the cottage, and, silent as ghosts, +Tom and I glided out armed to the teeth. Yes, I could see the blackcock +so distinctly before me, that I had scarcely reached the glen where we +had come upon them in the afternoon than I fired off my gun. No +blackcock fell. But hardly had the dreadful thunder of the gun died away +than the whole forest woke up. Startled small birds fluttered backward +and forward deeper into the brushwood. A little squirrel peeped +cautiously between two branches, dropped in his fright the fir-cone he +was crunching, and then jumped hastily away. The nasty smoke spread with +the wind farther in the wood, and pinched the nose of a hare who sat +half-asleep under a bush. "I smell human blood," said the hare to +himself, like the giant to Tom Thumb, and off he went in a tremendous +hurry to find a safer refuge for the day's rest. Tom and I watched him +with interest as he stopped short in catching sight of us, stamped with +his paws, and then scampered off. The hare has the reputation of being +rather ugly; we noticed, on the contrary, that he was quite graceful in +his elegant leap over a fallen fir-tree, and I was sorry he did not give +us a little longer time in which to look at him. It is not every day one +gets a hare; and very satisfied with the beginning of our day, we went +on farther into the forest, keeping a sharp look-out for the blackcock. +We soon left the forest track and wandered along over the moss, soft as +velvet, without the slightest idea where we were going. So we came upon +a little brook which cheerfully murmured in our ears as he hurried +along, would we not like to accompany him down to the lake? and that we +did, to make sure that he did not go astray in the gloom between +hillocks and stones. We could not see him, but we heard him singing to +himself the whole time. Now and then he stopped short at a jutting rock +or fallen tree and waited for us, and then he rushed down the vale +quicker than ever to make up for lost time. Yes, it was easy enough for +him, who had nothing to carry but some flowers and dry leaves, to rush +off with such a speed; he should have had that confounded gun to drag +with him, he would then have seen how easy a matter it was! And thus it +happened that he ran away from us. We did not know what to do next, so +we fired off a shot again. No blackcock fell. But we had scarcely time +to load the gun again before we came upon the whole covey. Fancy if I +had not had time to load! But they got it all right. There was a +tremendous whirring up in the tree-tops, and on heavy wings they +dispersed in different directions. We thought the blackcock was a very +fine bird, who looks exceedingly well in a forest. + +Hallo! There he came again, our friend the brook, dancing toward us +happier than ever, and I bent down to kiss his night-cool face just as +he glided past me. Ah! now there was no longer any danger that he should +lose his way, for already the night had fled away on swift dwarf-feet to +hide itself deeper in the forest under the thick firs. Around us birches +and aspens put on their green coats, and amongst the moss and fern at +our feet small flowers stretched their pretty heads out of the gloom and +looked at us as we passed. And deep below in the misty valley a lake +opened its eyelid. + +So we got sick of blackcock-shooting and we sat down on a mossy stone to +read a chapter of Nature's bible whilst the sun rose above the fir-tops +and the sky brightened over our heads. + +The disturber of the peace sat there quite quiet, silently wondering to +himself how it could be possible that men exist who have the heart to +bring sorrow and death into a friendly forest. And the small birds also +began to wonder, wonder whether that dreadful thunder which awoke them +was only a bad dream; the whole forest was so silent again, and +perchance it might not be so dangerous to try a little song! And so they +took courage one after another and began each to sing their tune. Some +were perfect artists and sang long arias with trills and variations; +some sang folk-songs; some knew nothing but a little refrain, and that +they did not in the least mind repeating over and over again; and some +only knew how to hum a single little note, but they were just as merry +for all that. And now and again one could hear among all the soprani a +rich melodious alto who sang an old ballad--listen! that is the +greatest artist in the whole forest; that is the blackbird! + +So I thanked my little wild friends for their song; they knew well how +happy I felt with them. But I was obliged to turn home again. I told +them that I was a sportsman and that I had to be at the rendezvous with +my party at seven sharp. I told them to be prudent, to listen carefully +for the sound of our voices and to fly on quick wings as soon as we +approached--they must be aware that men are so unmusical that they do +not know how to appreciate a soulful artist; that they are so unkind, +one can never know what may happen. And the merry squirrels, the +red-skinned little acrobats of the woods, I told them also to be on the +look-out, to take care not to crunch their fir-cones too loudly and not +to peep too much from behind their tree--they must know that men are so +cold in their hearts that to keep warm they wrap themselves in furs +made from their small red coats. I had also prepared a speech for the +blackcock, but, as I never caught sight of them again, I could not +deliver it. But I had the impression that they had grasped the situation +thoroughly, and that was all I wanted of them. + +I was punctual at the rendezvous, and the party set off in excellent +spirits. We roamed about the whole day, strode miles and miles with our +huge game-bags dangling behind our backs, sank knee-deep into morasses +and bogs, climbed over hundreds of hedges and tore our faces with the +branches of the tangled brushwood. We were all to meet in the evening at +the shooting-box, where supper (with roast blackcock) was to be served, +and where also, idyllic enough, ladies were to come to give the +sportsmen welcome, and to share the spoil. + +As one sportsman after the other, hungry and disappointed, reached the +meeting-place, dragging his gun after him, those who were already there +looked eagerly at his bag. I was one of the last, and I saw at once that +the situation was gloomy. I was also in a bad temper, having just +discovered that I had unfortunately left my gun behind somewhere, and I +could not remember in the least where it might be. I was very +disagreeably surprised to see one of the party with a cry of triumph +seize hold of my bag. The bag looked really as if it were filled, but +the fact was I was absolutely unprepared for such importunate +examination. I protested and said it contained nothing but small birds +and squirrels, but he took the bag from me and the whole party watched +with avaricious eyes when he thrust in his hand and fumbled in the bag. +After he had pulled out my whole little shooting-library, Heine and +Alfred de Musset and my old friend Leopardi, all the sportsmen looked at +each other with amazement. And I quite lost my head. They became +absolutely furious when, with my unfortunate absent-mindedness, I +happened to let out that I had made a little private excursion before +sunrise and by chance had come across some blackcock. "_But had you not +time to fire at them?_" they cried, shaking me by the arms and pulling +at my coat. "_Yes, of course, I had time to fire, but the blackcock had +also time to get away._" "_Did you not aim at the thick of the covey?_" +they yelled with bloodshot eyes and contorted faces. "_No, I think that +I aimed at a little cloud, and, for the matter of that, I think I hit +it, for a moment later I saw that the sky was beautifully blue._" My +remark about the cloud must have been to the point, for it made them +absolutely dumbfounded; they only shook their heads in silence and +stared at me while I put my books in the bag again. I had not time to +stay longer, having to go and look at the effects of the sunset deeper +in the wood, and I politely begged them to excuse me for breaking up +the party. + +I had not gone many steps before there broke out a frightful dispute +amongst them as to who was guilty of having brought me amongst them, +and, as far as I could make out, they called me "that idiot." + +I was never invited to that place any more. For the matter of that, it +was an observation I often made--I was never invited more than once to +any place. To my astonishment I saw myself cut out from one house-party +after another, and there sprang up a rumour that I brought bad luck with +me. Isn't it odd, this often-observed tendency to superstition amongst +sportsmen? + + * * * * * + +I have really no time to linger any longer over my new game-laws, for I +have so many other reforms concerning the animals at hand. Only think +how much there is to be done for domestic animals also! The division of +labour forms here a most important chapter. The domestic animals will +only have to work a certain number of hours a day, in proportion to +their strength, and not, as now, work themselves to death. And so when +age comes upon them men will have to try to give back to the tired +animals a small part of all that these humble fellow-workmen have given +to them as long as they were able. Surely the domestic animals belong to +the family; and just as the old labourer is allowed to end his days in +peace in his little cottage, so shall the old horse, when his eyes begin +to grow dim and his legs to get stiff, be allowed to rest in his stall; +and now and then one should go and pet the old servant with grateful +hands, and give him his bit of bread as before. The old worn-out ox, +surely he too might be allowed at last to glean a little dry hay from +the fields which he in his strong days has so many times ploughed for +the seed, which year after year filled the farmer's barn with golden +sheaves and sweet clover. And the kind, sympathetic little donkeys, +whose whole life is a series of self-renunciation, and whose melancholy +is an unheard protest against the degradation into which they have +fallen--surely I shall not forget you in my reforms, my poor Italian +friends! And keep up your courage, resigned little donkeys! your cause +is a good one, the tyranny of barbarians shall come to an end one day, +and the oppressed animals shall be given back their right to enjoy life, +even they! And the day will come when you are to be reinstated in the +high social position which your misunderstood intelligence and your +subtle humour entitle you to hold, and when you shall throw back in the +faces of your oppressors the epithet which short-sighted men now apply +to you! + +The sanitary condition of animals is to be improved a great deal. +Hospitals and asylums for sick and aged animals are to be founded. Up +till now I know personally of only two almshouses, that in London for +"lost and starving dogs"--where they are not so badly cared for--and +that in Florence for aged and infirm cats--it includes a _creche_ for +lost and orphan kittens (it has been founded by an English lady, I +believe). + +The jurisdiction is to be entirely changed. Flogging is only to be +allowed in certain exceptional cases, and only after serious +remonstrances and repeated warnings. There is nothing in the whole of +creation so stubborn as a school-boy when he tries his best; well, now, +when one is no longer allowed to flog him, why may one then be allowed +to beat the animal whose duller perception ought so much the more to +protect him from the birch-rod? + +Capital execution--I recognise its necessity--is to be changed from +arbitrary barbarity to an institution watched over by mildness and +tenderness for the condemned animal. The animal-executioners should form +a corporation apart, kept under the severest supervision. The profession +is a repulsive but a necessary one, and the individuals who enlist +themselves on its roll deserve high wages. + + * * * * * + +It was never meant that man should be an autocratic tyrant in the great +society which peoples the world, but a constitutional monarch. I had +dreamt of a republic, but I admit that our earth is not yet ripe for +this form of government. Yes, man is the ruler of the earth; always +victorious, he carries his blood-stained banner round the world, and his +kingdom has no longer any limit. But man is an upstart--I, at any rate, +cannot believe all his talk about his high birth. He will try to take us +in by saying that he is a foundling who was mysteriously put into the +nursery of creation, and that he is of far nobler origin than anybody +else on the whole earth. It is true there is something peculiar about +him, and that he is domineering and arrogant: that he showed early +enough. Even when a baby, and lying at Nature's mother-breast, he pushed +away the other children of the earth, and drank the strength of life in +deep draughts. Hardly could he crawl before he scratched his kind nurse +in the face and beat his weaker foster-brothers. So he grew up to be a +true bully, a brutish Protanthropos, breaking down each obstacle, +subduing with the right of the stronger all opposition. And the law of +selection enlarged his facial angle, and culture put arms in his hands. +How could the sickle-like claws of _Ursus spelaeus_ (cave-bear) prevail +against his trident studded with thorns or twig-spikes or set with +razor-edged shells? What could the six-inch long canines of Machaerodus +do against his sharpened flint? And so they disappeared, one after the +other, these vanquished giants, into the gloom of past ages. But the +power of man expanded more and more, and higher and higher flew his +thoughts. Now the earth lies at his feet, and he prepares to assault +heaven! And he has been so spoiled by all his success, so refined by all +civilisation, that he turns up his aristocratic nose whenever one +reminds him of his childhood. And his humble old ancestors, among whom +his cradle stood, and all his poor relations who, homeless, rove about +the earth, these he will not own at all, and he is so hard to them. But +man is no longer young--no one knows exactly how many hundred thousand +years he carries on his back; but I think it is time for him to reflect +a little upon all the evil he has done in his days, and try to grow a +little kinder in his old age. The day will come when the last man will +lie down to die, and when a new-crowned king of creation will mount the +throne--_le roi est mort, vive le roi!_ So falls the twilight of ages +round the sarcophagus where the dead monarch sleeps in the Pantheon of +Palaeontology. The dust covers the inscription which records all the +honorary titles of the dead, and the standards which witnessed his +victories moulder away. Up there in the new planet sits a professor, and +lectures about the remains from prehistoric times, and he hands round to +his audience a fragile cranium, which is carefully examined by wondering +students. It is our cranium, with that upright facial angle and that +large brain-pan which was our pride! And the professor makes a casual +remark about _Homo Sapiens_, and he points out the fang which is still +to be seen in the jaw. + +We learn from the long story of the development of our race that the +hunter-stage was the lowest of all human conditions, the most purely +animal. The pursuing and killing of animals for mere pleasure is a +humiliating reminiscence from this time of savagery. Man's right over +the animal is limited to his right of defence, and his right of +existence. The former can only very seldom be evoked in our country; the +latter cannot be evoked by our class. + +A man of culture recognises his obligations towards animals as a +compensation for the servitude he imposes on them. The pursuing and +killing of animals for mere pleasure is incompatible with the fulfilment +of these obligations. Sympathy extending beyond the limit of humanity, +_i.e._ kindness to animals, is one of the latest moral qualities +acquired by mankind. This sympathy is absolutely lacking in the lowest +human races, and the degree of this sympathy possessed by an individual +marks the distance which separates him from his primitive state of +savagery. + +An individual who enjoys the pursuing and killing of animals is thus to +be considered as a transitional type between a savage and a man of +culture. He forms the missing link in the evolution of the mind from +brutishness to humanity. + + + + + TO ---- + + "The firmest friend, + The first to welcome, foremost to defend." + + Byron. + + +We have camped together for the whole of ten years. We have stuck to +each other in both joy and sorrow; honestly we have shared good and +evil. + +When I am happy he is also happy; he does not for a moment consider if +he has any personal reason to cheer up; he doesn't ask for any +explanations; he only thinks of partaking in my pleasure--only a glance, +a nod, or a single friendly word is enough for him, and his whole honest +face lights up with my joy. And when I am depressed and miserable, he +then sits so sorrowfully by my side. He does not try to console me, for +he knows how little words of pity avail; he says nothing, for he knows +that silence is a comfort when one is sad. He only looks steadfastly at +me, and maybe puts his big head on my knee. He knows that he cannot +fathom what it is that worries me; that his poor, dark brain cannot +follow me in all I am thinking about; but his faithful heart anyhow +wants to claim his share of my burden. + +Others think I am quick-tempered and angry, and pay me back in the same +way; his patient indulgence knows how to forgive everything; his +friendship stands the trial against all injustice. Am I nervous and hard +on him when I leave him, he rewards evil with good and comes just as +friendly and caressingly to meet me when I come back. Others sit in +judgment over my many faults, and have only words of blame for whatever +I take in hand; he tries with loving eagerness to find out the least +ugly side of everything; he refuses to believe me capable of anything +wrong. When I defend a cause, I am too often considered to be in the +wrong; but he thinks always as I do. In the moment of adversity no +friends are to be found; he is always at my side ready to defend me +against any peril, happy, if required, to give his life for mine. + +He never complains; he is always satisfied, however uncomfortable he is, +if only he may be allowed to be with me. He can sit for hours out in the +street waiting patiently, in cold and rain, whilst I am visiting some of +my acquaintances where he is not received. Is there no room in the +carriage when I drive, he runs just as cheerfully behind me; he is even +delighted when I am driving; he is proud of me; he thinks it looks +grand. Do I go out in my boat, without hesitation he jumps in the water +after me; he swims as long as he has any breath left, and when his +strength begins to give out, with a last effort he raises himself out of +the water to look after the boat, but to return to the shore he never +dreams of. When I travel by train, he sits, without complaining, cramped +up in his little compartment for however long it may be, without a scrap +of comfort, with the sharp wind blowing straight through, sore in all +his bones with the continual shaking, softened by no springs, black in +his face as a sweep from the smoke of the engine. And anyhow, whenever +the train stops, he shouts out cheerfully that he is there, and all well +on board. Have I time to run forward and look at him, he peeps out +patiently and contentedly through his little barred window, and presses +his dry nose against my hand--never a hint that he is aware how +uncomfortable he is, compared to me in my luxurious wagon-lit; never the +slightest complaint against the railway company who has done so +surprisingly little for travellers of his class. + +But if he, out of delicacy for me, has never wanted to make any +complaint, I do not see why I should be kept back from doing so by any +such consideration. And I may as well tell you that I am thinking of +getting up a petition to protest against _the unfair distribution of +comfort for railway travellers_. I have been inquiring about it for the +many years I have knocked about on the railways of all nations, and I am +pretty sure that I may count upon a great number of signatures from +travellers concerned. Man, who always takes the best of everything, and +thinks of nobody but himself, has also succeeded in securing all sorts +of advantages from the railway companies--advantages which exclusively +benefit him, but which are a crying injustice towards other travellers, +who have also paid for their tickets, and consequently have a right, +even they, to claim the fulfilment of the obligations which the railway +company has accepted towards them. If I am waked up in the night in my +comfortable berth by the heating apparatus having gone wrong, and find +the compartment cold, I have only to complain to the conductor; but I +have innumerable times heard loud complaints from the dog-compartments +about the ice-cold night-wind blowing straight through them, and I have +never noticed any one pay the slightest attention to this. If my +neighbour lights a cigar, and having blown a cloud of smoke in my face, +asks me if I object to his smoking, although it is not a smoking +compartment, I have only to answer "Yes," to get rid of the smoke; but +who has ever asked the dogs if they object to the thick fumes of coal +which the engine puffs in their faces the whole time, where the poor +fellows sit in the front van? + +All trains stop at certain places for refreshment, and we have only to +run into the buffet to eat our fill; but is there any one who knows how +difficult it is to get a little food and a drink of water for a +travelling dog? The minutes are counted, and you are served in turn as +you come to the buffet, you believe. No, not in the very least, the dogs +are always skipped over, even if they have their money lying ready +before them on the table; and as often as not, when their turn comes the +bell rings, and the train is off. When I was in the first stage of my +human knowledge--the Idealistic--I always asked for some food for my +dog; that was no good, no waiter was kind enough to listen to that. +Later, when in the second stage--that of Vanishing Illusions--I asked at +once for a beefsteak for my dog; that was not much better, the chances +of getting anything are very small. In the third stage--that of +Hopeless Pessimism--I immediately ask for dinner for two, and turn two +chairs at the _table d'hote_; Tappio disappears instantly under the +table, and I hand down to him his portion as it is placed before his +chair. I have acquired such a practice in this that nobody notices where +the food goes, and silent as a ghost, Tappio swallows down both cutlets +and pastry in one gulp--the only thing which has made him lose +countenance has been the, in Italy, not uncommon practice of serving +ice-cream, of the inconvenience of which, at railway dinners, I agree +with him. I remember how once in Macon--the Paris-Turin night-train used +to stop there for supper--we had as neighbours a peaceful family of +bourgeois, the members of which, one after the other, dropped their +knives and forks as the dinner proceeded, and stared at me and my +rapidly vanishing double portions with increasing amazement. At last a +little old lady, who was of the party, exclaimed, quite aloud, "_Voila +un homme que je ne voudrais pas inviter a diner, il serait capable de +manger les assiettes aussi!_" + + * * * * * + +Yes, we have seen a good deal of the world; we have met many people on +our way; our experience of life is large enough. There was a time when +we were ambitious we also, very ambitious. We dreamt of prize medals and +certificates for both of us, of Persian carpets under our feet, and of +roasted ortolans flying straight into our mouths. That time is past, one +of us is already gray, but no roasted ortolans have flown into our +mouths, nor any Persian carpets spread themselves under our feet. And +when the floor feels too cold, I lay down my cloak for my comrade to lie +upon. And we begin to realise what man is worth. We used to be idealists +because we believed that others were idealists. We were gentle and +harmless as lambs because we believed that others were so. We were +philanthropists. But we have discovered that we were mistaken. Men are +not at all kind to each other. They talk so much about friendship, but +there are only very few of them who are capable of realising the true +signification of this word. + +But, to be sure, they laugh if one gives to a dog's faithful devotion +the name of friendship, if with thankful recognition one strives to +repay as far as lies in one's power the humble comrade whom they call +but a soulless animal, whose fine, sensitive thought they call instinct, +and for whose honest, noble soul they deny all right to live any longer +than his faithful dog-heart beats. + +If this be not virtue, this all-sacrificing, all-self-denying, +all-injustice-forgetting love,--well, then, I don't know what virtue +means; and should his only reward for a whole life's faithful devotion +consist in being shot in his old age and buried under a tree in the +park at home, then all I can say is, that I do not believe that we +either will get beyond the grave where our remains will one day be laid. + + + + + MONSIEUR ALFREDO + + +I do not in the least know how I happened to come upon the modest little +cafe, nor do I know how it came to pass that during the whole of that +year I frequented no other. + +I wonder whether it was not on account of Monsieur Alfredo that I became +an habitue there. + +He evidently had his luncheon later than I, as I had already had time to +smoke a couple of cigarettes before he made his appearance at the Cafe +de l'Empereur, upright and trim in his tightly-buttoned frock-coat, a +roll of manuscript under his arm, and his gray hair in neat curls +surrounding his wrinkled, childlike face. The waiter brought him his +little cup of coffee and placed the chess-board between us. Monsieur +Alfredo, with old-fashioned courtesy, inquired after my health, and I on +my side received satisfactory assurances as to his well-being. I busied +myself in placing the chess-men, and whilst I groped under the table to +find that pawn which somehow or other had always fallen to the ground, +Monsieur Alfredo rapidly produced his lump of sugar out of his pocket +and put it into his cup. + +We always played two games. I am singularly unlucky in games, and the +old man, who loved chess, beamed all over every time he checkmated me. +He played very slowly, but with amazing boldness, and even after having +played with him every day for months together, I was still incapable of +forming an opinion as to which of us played the worse. What puzzled me +most of all was the fact that Monsieur Alfredo seldom or never played +anything but kings and queens; occasionally, with reluctance, he would +put the knights, castles, and bishops into requisition, but as to the +pawns, he appeared to ignore them altogether. I had never before seen +anybody play in this way, and often enough had I to look very sharp to +make sure of losing. + +The conversation turned on literature, and above all, the theatre. +Monsieur Alfredo was extremely exacting as to dramatic art, and approved +of no other form than the tragic. He was exceedingly difficult as to +authors. I was just then full of Victor Hugo, but Monsieur Alfredo +considered him much too sentimental. Racine and Corneille he thought +better of, although he gave me to understand he considered them lacking +in power. He despised comedy and refused point-blank to admit Scribe, +Augier, Labiche, or Dumas as celebrities. One only needed to mention the +name of Offenbach or Lecocq to make the otherwise peaceful Monsieur +Alfredo fall into a complete rage; he then burst forth into Italian, +which he never spoke unless greatly excited; he denounced them as +_Birbanti_, and _Avvelenatori_,[20]--they had with their music spread +the poison which had killed the good taste of a whole generation, and +they were, to a great extent, responsible for the downfall of tragedy in +our days. + +He seemed well informed in everything concerning the Paris theatres, and +was evidently a frequent playgoer himself; I had once or twice hinted +that we should go to the theatre together some evening, but had observed +that Monsieur Alfredo never seemed willing to understand me. + +As soon as we had finished our second game, Monsieur Alfredo produced +four sous wrapped up in paper, called the waiter and asked what he had +to pay, and laid his four sous on the table. The Cafe de l'Empereur was +not a very expensive place, as you may perceive; on the Boulevard St. +Michel they charged you eight sous for a cup of coffee, here you only +had to pay four if you took it without milk or sugar--Monsieur Alfredo +had long ago confided to me his experience that sugar took away half the +fragrance of coffee. I, who was not so particular, had both sugar and +milk with my coffee, and cognac besides, but never once had I succeeded +in getting Monsieur Alfredo to accept a glass from me. I had tried to +tempt him with everything the Cafe de l'Empereur could offer, but the +old gentleman had always declined courteously but firmly. + +I knew that Monsieur Alfredo was an author, and that it was the +manuscript of a five-act tragedy he carried under his arm. I have always +admired authors and artists, and I tried my best to make him understand +how flattered I felt by his society. I had long ago told him everything +about myself and my affairs, but Monsieur Alfredo showed for a long +while a singular reticence in all that concerned himself. Sometimes, on +leaving the cafe together, I had tried to accompany him for a while, +but, once in the streets, he always wished me good-bye, and I could +easily see that I was not wanted. I had also expressed a wish to be +allowed to call upon him, but had been given to understand that his time +was very limited just then, and feeling sure that the tragedy was the +cause of it all, I took good care not to disturb him. + +He never came to the cafe in the evening, so I then lounged there alone +smoking. Every now and then I dined with some of my fellow-students down +on the boulevards, but as true inhabitants of the Quartier Latin, it was +only seldom that we crossed the Seine. One evening, however, some one at +the dinner-table proposed that we should all drive down to the Varietes +to see Offenbach's _Les Brigands_, and somehow or another they carried +me off with them. + +I believe the whole pit was full of students. We were in tremendous +spirits, and applauded quite as vigorously as the _claque_ which +occupied the row behind us. It seemed to me as though I were playing my +old friend from the Cafe de l'Empereur false, and I felt how he would +despise me had he seen me, and I made up my mind not to tell him +anything about it. But I could not help it, I roared with laughter the +whole time. The last words of a song were hardly over before the +_claque_ broke out with a deafening applause, and we and the whole pit +followed their lead with right good will. And so when we collapsed and +could move our arms no longer, the _claque_ had recuperated its +strength, and the brilliant farce was hailed once more with thundering +applause by the joyless spectators behind us, where a whole chorus of +poor devils shouted "bravo, bravo!" for next day's bread. + +Suddenly I was startled by a "bravo, bravo!" which came a little after +the rest. I turned rapidly round, and ran my eye over the _claque_, and +then to the astonishment of my comrades, I took my hat and slunk out of +the theatre. + +The joyous music rang in my ears the whole way home, but I felt that +tears were not far from my eyes that night. + +No, I never told Monsieur Alfredo that I had been to see _Les Brigands_. +I never alluded again in our conversations to Offenbach and Lecocq, and +never more did I try to accompany the old gentleman to the theatre. + +Next day, after we had finished our game of chess, I followed him home +at some little distance. I went to his house that same evening, and +whilst I stood there contemplating the card on Monsieur Alfredo's door, +the concierge made her appearance, and informed me that he never spent +the evenings at home. "Was I perhaps a pupil?" I answered in the +affirmative. I asked her if he had many pupils just then, and she +answered I was the first she had ever seen. + +It was towards the end of autumn that I communicated to Monsieur Alfredo +my irrevocable decision to throw medicine to the winds and to devote +myself to the stage, and to my great satisfaction he consented to become +my instructor in deportment and declamation. The lessons were given at +my rooms in the Hotel de l'Avenir. The old fellow's method was a +peculiar one, and his theories on acting as bold as those he held on +chess. I listened with the utmost attention to all he said, and tried as +well as I could to learn the fundamental rules of deportment he saw fit +to teach me. After a while he acceded to my request to be allowed to try +myself in a role, and fully aware of my preference for tragedy, it was +decided that, under the immediate superintendence of the author +himself, I should get up one of the characters in Monsieur Alfredo's +last work, _Le Poignard_, a tragedy in five acts. Monsieur Alfredo +himself was the king and I was the marquis. I admit that my debut was +not a happy one. I saw that the author was far from satisfied with me, +and I realised myself that my marquis was a dead failure. My next debut +was in the role of the English lord in the five-act tragedy, _La +Vengeance_, but neither there were there any illusions possible as to my +success. I then tried my luck as the count in _Le Secret du Tombeau_, +but with a very doubtful result. I then sank down to a viscount, and +made superhuman efforts to keep up to the mark, but notwithstanding the +indulgent way in which Monsieur Alfredo pointed out my shortcomings, I +could not conceal from myself the fact that I was not fit to be a +viscount either. + +I began to have serious doubts as to my theatrical vocation, but +Monsieur Alfredo thought that the reason of my failure might be traced +to my unfamiliarity with the highest society, and my difficulty in +adapting myself to the sensations and thoughts of these high personages. +And he was right--it was anything but easy. All his heroes and heroines +were very sorry for themselves, not to say desperate, although as a rule +it was impossible for me to understand the reason of their being so. +Love and hatred glowed in every one's eyes. True that as a rule +everything went wrong for the lovers, but even if they got each other at +last, they did not seem to be a bit the more cheerful for that. I +remember, for instance, the third act of _Le Poignard_, where I (the +marquis), after having waded through blood, succeed in winning the lady +of my heart, who on her side has gone through fire and water to be mine. +The Archbishop marries us by moonlight, and we, who had not seen each +other for ten years, are left alone for a while in a bower of roses. We +had nothing on earth to be afraid of; no one was likely to disturb us, +as I had previously run my sword through every grown-up person in the +play, and I thought that I ought to be a little kind to the marchioness. +But Monsieur Alfredo never found my voice tragic enough during the few +brief moments of happiness he granted us. (We perished shortly +afterwards in an earthquake.) + +For the matter of that, those who escaped a violent death were not much +better off--they were carried off in any case in the flower of their +youth by sudden inexplicable ailments, which no amount of care could +contend against. At first I tried to save some of the victims, but +Monsieur Alfredo always looked very astonished when I suggested that +some one might be allowed to recover; and knowing his theory that it was +sentimentality that spoiled Victor Hugo as a dramatist, I ceased more +and more to interfere in the matter. + +After a few more abortive attempts to pose as a nobleman, I submitted to +Monsieur Alfredo my opinion that I might do better in a more humble +position. But here we were met by an unforeseen obstacle--Monsieur +Alfredo did not descend below viscounts. If by the exigencies of the +plot a lonely representative of the lower orders had to appear on the +scene, he had no sooner got a word out of his mouth before the author +would fling a purse at his head, and send him back into the wings with +an imperial wave of his shiny coat sleeve. Well, away with all false +pride! It was in these roles I at last hit upon my true genre; it was +here I scored my only triumphs. Imperceptibly to the old man, I +disappeared more and more from the repertoire, would now and then cross +the stage and with a deep obeisance deliver a manuscript letter from +some crowned head, or would occasionally come to carry off a +corpse--that was all. + +So the autumn passed on, we had gone through one tragedy after another, +and still Monsieur Alfredo constantly turned up with a new manuscript +under his arm. I began to be afraid that the old man would wear himself +out with this fathomless authorship, and I tried in every possible way +to make him rest a little. This was, however, quite impossible. He now +came every single day to Hotel de l'Avenir to his only pupil and +literary confidant. His guileless, childish face seemed to grow more and +more gentle, and more and more was I drawn towards the poor old +enthusiast with a sort of tender sympathy. + +And unquenchable and ever more unquenchable became his literary +bloodthirstiness. By Christmas-time his new tragedy was ready, and +Monsieur Alfredo himself looked upon it as his best work. The scene was +laid in Sicily at the foot of Mount Etna in the midst of burning +lava-streams. Not a soul survived the fifth act. I begged for the life +of a Newfoundland dog, who, with a dead heir in his mouth, had swum over +from the mainland, but Monsieur Alfredo was inexorable. The dog threw +himself into the crater of Etna in the last scene. + +But while the lava of Mount Etna was heating Monsieur Alfredo's world of +dreams, the winter snow was falling over Paris. All of us had long since +taken to our winter coats, but my poor professor was still wandering +about in his same old frock-coat, so shiny with constant brushing, so +thread-bare with the wear and tear of years. The nights became so cold, +and sadly did I follow in my thoughts the poor old man tramping home +every night across the streets of Paris after the theatre was over. +Many times was I very near broaching the delicate subject, but was +always deterred by the sensitive pride with which he sought to disguise +his poverty. Yet had I never seen him in such excellent spirits as he +was just then, he placed greater expectations than ever on his new +tragedy. Like all his previous plays it was written for the Theatre +Francais. The systematic ill-will with which Mons. Perrin[21] had +refused to accept any work of his had certainly made him turn his +thoughts to the Odeon Theatre; but with due consideration to the +colossal proportions of his new drama, Monsieur Alfredo did not quite +see how to avoid offering it to the very first theatre in Paris. + +Maybe it seems to you that I ought to have pointed out to Monsieur +Alfredo the dangerous flights of his imagination, that I ought to have +tried to make him realise that his theatre was erected on quite another +planet than ours. I did nothing of the sort, and you would not have done +so either had you known him as I did, had you witnessed the anxiety with +which his kind eyes sought for my approval, how his sad old child-face +brightened up when he recited some passage which he expected would +especially dumbfound me--which alas! it seldom failed to do. But I had +arrived so far that I was quite incapable of spoiling his pleasure by a +single word of criticism. Silently I listened to tragedy after tragedy, +and there was no need to simulate being serious, for all my laughter +over his wild creations was silenced by the tragedy of reality, all my +criticism was disarmed by his utter helplessness--he did not even +possess an overcoat! The only audience the poor old man ever had was me, +why then shouldn't I bestow upon him a little approval, he whom life +had so unmercifully hissed? + +One afternoon he did not turn up at the Cafe de l'Empereur, and in vain +I waited for him before the chess-board the next day. I waited still +another day, but then, driven by uneasy forebodings, I went to look him +up towards evening. The concierge had not seen him go out, and there was +no answer to my knock at his door. I stood there for a moment or two +looking at the faded old visiting-card nailed on his door-- + + +------------------------------------------+ + | | + | Mr. ALFREDO | + | | + | Auteur Dramatique | + | | + | Professeur de Declamation, de Maintien | + | | + | et de Mise en Scene. | + | | + +------------------------------------------+ + +And then I quietly opened the door and went in. + +The old man lay on his bed delirious, not recognising the unbidden guest +who stood there, sadly looking round the empty garret cold as the +streets without, for there was no fireplace. + +It was sunny and bright next day, and it was easy to remove him to the +hospital close by--I was on the staff there for the matter of that. He +had pneumonia. They were all very kind to the old gentleman, both the +doctors and the students, and dear Soeur Philomene managed matters so +successfully that she got a private room for him. He continued delirious +the whole of that day and night, but towards morning he became conscious +and recognised me. He then insisted on returning at once to his own +quarters, but quieted down considerably on being told he was in a +private room, and that he was quite independent of all the other +patients. After some hesitation he inquired what he would have to pay, +and I answered him I did not think the hospital could charge him +anything, as the _Societe des Auteurs Dramatiques_ was entitled to a +free bed, and I doubted whether it would be the right thing to refuse to +avail himself of this privilege, as of course every one knew who he +was. Soeur Philomene, who stood behind his pillow, shook her finger +reprovingly at my little white lie, but I could well see by the +expression of her eyes that she forgave me. I had touched the poor old +author's most sensitive chord; with keenest interest he made me repeat +over and over again what I had said about the _Societe des Auteurs +Dramatiques_ and a faint smile of content lit up his faded old face when +at last I had succeeded in making him believe me. From that moment he +seemed quite pleased and satisfied with everything, and he did not +realise himself how rapidly he was sinking. According to his wish, a +little table with writing materials had been placed beside his bed, but +he had not yet tried to write anything. + +The night had been worse than usual, and during the morning round I +noticed that Soeur Philomene had hung a little crucifix at the head of +his bed. He lay there quite silent the whole day, once only when he was +given his broth he asked for the name of the most rapid poison, and +Soeur Philomene thought it was prussic acid. + +Towards evening he became more feverish, and his eyes began to be +restless. He begged me to sit down beside him, and after swearing me +over to secrecy he unveiled to me the plot of his new tragedy where the +rival gives prussic acid to the bride and bridegroom during the wedding +ceremony. He spoke rapidly and cheerfully, and with a triumphant glance +he asked me whether I thought the Theatre Francais would dare to reject +him this time, and I answered that I did not believe it would dare to do +so. The work was to proceed with great speed, the first act was to be +ready next morning, and in a week's time at the very latest he intended +to send in the manuscript for perusal. + +He became more and more delirious, and he did not pay any more attention +to my answers. His eye still rested on mine, but his horizon widened +more and more, for the barriers of this world began to fall away. His +speech became more and more rapid, and I could no longer follow his +staggering thought. But his face still expressed what his failing +perception could no longer form into words, and with deep emotion I +witnessed death bestow on him the joy that life had denied him. + +He seemed to listen. There flew a light over his pale features, his eye +sparkled, and with head erect the old man sat up in bed. He shook away +his gray curls, and a shimmer of triumph fell over his brow. With his +hand on his heart the dying author made a low bow, for in the silence of +the falling night he heard the echo of his life's fondest dream; he +heard the Theatre Francais jubilant with applause! + +And slowly the curtain sank upon the old author's last tragedy. + +[Footnote 20: Scoundrels and poisoners.] + +[Footnote 21: The then manager of the Theatre Francais.] + + + + + MONT BLANC + + KING OF THE MOUNTAINS + + Mont Blanc is the monarch of mountains; + They crown'd him long ago + On a throne of rocks, in a robe of clouds, + With a diadem of snow. + + Byron. + + _Note._--The following paper may perhaps be considered rather + too whimsical by those unacquainted with a little adventure I + had while descending Mont Blanc, an adventure which began in an + avalanche and ended happily in a crevasse. The article dances + away on the rope of a single metaphor, and dances over + precipices. But the sentiment reflected in the word-picture of + the title impresses me still so strongly, so much do I still + admire the anger of the mighty snow-mountain, that I dare not + approach it with the familiarity of a reporter. I see that here + and there I have tried to smile--that is because of the pain in + my frozen foot. When I make fun of Mont Blanc I am reminded of + an antique bas-relief once seen in Rome, representing a little + Satyr, who, a look of blank astonishment on his face, measures + the toe of a sleeping Polyphemus. + +The ascent of Mont Blanc is easy. + +No one attempts the _Weisshorn_, _Dent Blanche_, or the _Matterhorn_ +unless his eye be calm and his foot sure, but we all know that Tartarin +of Tarascon went up Mont Blanc--although he never arrived at the top. + +They are indomitable revolutionists, these other mountain giants, +freedom's untamed heroes who refuse to be subjugated save by the sun +alone, haughty lords of the Alps who know themselves to be princes of +the blood. + +But Mont Blanc is the crowned king of the Alps. There was a time when he +was sullen and cruel, but he has grown kinder-hearted in his old age, +and now, like a venerable patriarch, he sits there, the white-haired +Charlemagne, looking out in calm majesty over his three kingdoms. + +Good-humouredly he suffers the Lilliputians to crawl up the +marble-bright steps that lead into his citadel, and with royal +hospitality he allows them to visit his ice-shining castle. + +But when the summer day begins to darken into autumn, he goes to sleep +in his white state bed under a canopy of clouds. And then he does not +like to be disturbed, the old king. + +No, he does not like to be disturbed; I knew it well. I had addressed +myself to his retainers and had been told that it was too late for an +audience, that the king did not receive at this time. I had come from +afar, my knapsack on my back, my head full of wonderful stories about +the far-famed palace, and longing to see the proud old mountain-king. + +Somewhat disconcerted I hung for a while about the castle gates, +muttering socialistic sentences to myself. I had taken in radical +newspapers all the summer and was not to be treated in that off-hand +way. It is the lot of the great to be subjected to the gaze of +inquisitive eyes, and I can but be turned away, thought I to myself, and +up I went with two followers. Perhaps it was a trifle unceremonious on +my part, but I am not used to the court etiquette of conventionality. + +Summer accompanied me a little way; at first she climbed the slopes with +ease, planting her foot firmly in the clefts, but it was not difficult +to see that she, the fair daughter of the valley, did not look forward +to the royal visit as ardently as I did. I had got myself up in +court-dress to pay my respects to the ice-gray monarch, in sharp-spiked +mountain shoes, snow gaiters, and steel-pointed pilgrim staff, but she +was in no wise equipped to meet the requirements of such a journey, poor +little one! The wind pulled and tugged at her leaf-woven petticoat, and +sharp stones cut her green velvet shoes adorned with bows of harebell +and forget-me-not. But she did not give in so easily; she bound her poor +feet with soft moss; she patched her petticoat with bracken and juniper, +and although her fingers were stiff-frozen, neatly and gracefully she +managed to weave some tiny heather-bells between. + +And thus we reached the summit of a rock, and on the edge thereof sat +Cerberus, the fierce sentinel of the castle, barking and howling and +shaking his arctic fur till great white tufts flew in the air around. I +have never been afraid of bad-tempered dogs and hailed old Boreas by his +name and asked him in our own language if he did not recognise me, he, +the guardian of my childhood's home. And sure enough he rushed at me +full speed! He laid his paws upon my breast with such force that he +nearly knocked me backward over the cliff, and licked my face with his +icy tongue till I could hardly breathe. But suddenly, in the midst of +his friendly demonstrations, he bit my nose, and, what is more, he +nearly bit it off--that is what I have always said, one cannot be too +careful where strange dogs are concerned! If any one is a lover of dogs +I am, but I did not know how to take that, and hurried on as quickly as +possible. He evidently thought he belonged to the party, and followed us +growling like the brute that he was. But Summer took fright and said she +dared not go any farther, and so we took leave of each other. +Light-footed and joyous she returned to the green of the alpine meadows, +and I, drawing my coat closer round me, went on my way. Some firs also +took courage, and, gripping the rugged granite with sinewy arms, they +followed us up the rock. + +Steeper and steeper became the track, fewer and fewer the green-clad +bodyguard which advanced with me. And soon the last of them halted +beneath the shelter of a jutting rock. I asked them if they would not +come a little farther, but they shook their white heads and bade me +farewell. Deeper and deeper penetrated the chill of death into the +mountain's veins; slower and slower beat the heart of Nature; higher +and higher went my path. And there she stood, the last outpost of +Summer, the courageous little child-flower of the mountain heights, +beautiful as her name, _Edelweiss_! She stood there quite alone with her +feet in the snow; no living soul had she to bear her company, but she +was just as neat for all that in her gray little woollen gown edged with +frost pearls, and just as frankly for all that did she look up at the +sun. She also had her part to play, and it was not for me to do her any +harm. I glanced at her a moment and thought how pretty she was, although +so simply dressed in her homespun clothes, poor little half-frozen +Cinderella amongst her summer-fair sisters of the valley. + +I stood now on the frontier of the kingdom of Eternal Winter, and firm +of foot I crossed the moat of frozen glacier-waves which surrounded the +citadel of the ice-monarch. There reigned a desolate repose over the +sleeping palace, and I felt that I was drawing nigh unto a king. I +wandered through deserted castle-halls on whose dazzling white carpets +no human foot had ever trod, beneath crystal-glittering temple vaults +through which the organ thundered like the roar of a subterranean river, +between tall colonnades whose cloud-hidden capitals supported the +firmament. + +So I gained the highest tower of the castle. The winding staircase +leading thereunto was gone, but with ice-axe and rope we assaulted the +Royal Eagle's nest. + +And I stood face to face with the mountain-king. Upon the giant's +forehead sat the beaming diadem of the sun, and an unspeakable splendour +of purple and gold fell over his royal mantle. No echo from the valleys +disturbed his proud repose; mournful in isolated peace he sat on high +surveying his mute kingdom. Silent stood the bodyguard about his throne, +the tall grenadiers with steel-glinting ice armour upon their granite +breasts and cloud-crested helmets upon their snow-white heads. I knew +the weather-beaten features of more than one of them full well, and +reverently I greeted the giants by name, _Schreckhorn_, _Wetterhorn_, +_Finsteraarhorn_, _Monte Rosa_, _Monte Viso_, and her, the virgin +warrior with lowered vizor over her beautiful face immaculate as Diana +in her snow-white garb, _Die Jungfrau_! And my eye dwelt long upon the +proud combatant yonder, Achilles-like in his god-forged armour purpled +with blood, the _Matterhorn_! + +But suddenly the king's face darkened and a sombre cloud fell over his +forehead. He took off his crown, and his white curls flew in the wind, +and without paying the slightest attention to us he put on his +night-cap.[22] And we understood that the audience was ended. + +But he must be a good sleeper indeed if he be able to rest in such a +noise as this, thought we, for around us there arose a fearful tumult. +The storm raged over our heads till we thought the roof of the castle +would fall in upon us, and Boreas, like a hungry wolf, howled at our +heels. Hastily we retraced our steps through the darkening palace; +through deserted courtyards where spirit hands swept every trace of path +away; through vast state halls, gloomy as chambers of death in their +white draperies; through vaults adown which the organ stormed as on the +Day of Judgment. + +But there was something wrong with these old castle-halls--I began to +think they were haunted. There were groans and shrieks; a shrill and +scornful laugh rang suddenly through the air, and beside us flew long +shadows swathed in white--it was not easy to make out what they were; +mountain-wraiths, I suppose. + +We then reached a big plain called "_le grand plateau_," but we had +hardly got halfway across it before a cannon shot rent the skies. I +looked up to see the white smoke dancing down the Mont Maudit and a +whole mountain of projectiles bearing down upon us with the speed of an +avalanche--_Sapristi!_ On we went. Then there came a crash as though the +thunder had burst over our heads, the ground gaped under our feet, and I +fell into Hades. Everything became silent and the chill of death fell +over me. + +But the instinct of self-preservation roused me, and half awake I sat up +in the coffin and looked around. At the same moment one of my companions +also crept out of his shroud, and by the help of the ice-axe we forced +open the lid that had already been screwed down over our third +companion. And to our astonishment we discovered that we were not dead +at all. We sat imprisoned in a subterranean dungeon waiting for trial, +but we all agreed that we were in the cell of the condemned. Daylight +fell through a narrow rift over our heads, and beside us yawned a great +chasm--it was like the Mamertine prison in Rome. We had time to meditate +upon a good many things. To complain was useless; to protest against our +fate was useless too; all we could do was to hope that the judicial +formalities might be conducted as quickly as possible--_der Tod ist +nichts, aber das Sterben ist eine schaendliche Erfindung!_[23] + +Now and then a white wraith peeped through the opening and with mocking +laugh threw down great heaps of snow, then swept away over our heads. +"Are you still the lords of the earth, you miserable little human +microbes?" they howled until the vault shook again. We clenched our +teeth and said nothing. At last I got quite angry and shouted back to +them that they were nothing but microbes themselves. I glanced at my +companions and all three of us made a sort of grimace to show how +excellent we thought the joke, but it did not come to much, for the +muscles of laughter had been paralysed in our blue faces. But the +wraiths seemed taken aback all the same, and, summoning up all my +courage, I went on calling out that it was useless to give themselves +such airs, that there was something higher than Mont Blanc itself, and I +pointed towards a star which just then glanced down at us poor devils +through the gray fog bars of the opening. I had hardly got the words out +of my mouth before the wraiths vanished one and all, and by the light of +the brightening evening we saw that they had been transformed into huge +blocks of ice, which, impelled by the avalanche, had stopped short at +the very edge of the crevasse--witchcraft, nothing but witchcraft! But +it was not witchcraft that got us out that time. It was something else +that helped us--that which is higher than Mont Blanc. + +[Footnote 22: "_Il met son bonnet_"--the guides' usual and sufficiently +characteristic metaphor referring to that little cloud which suddenly +covers the summit of Mont Blanc--it announces a storm. It looks its best +from a certain distance.] + +[Footnote 23: Heine.] + + + + + RAFFAELLA + + +The picture was considered one of the very best in the whole Salon, and +the young painter's name was on every one's lips. It was always +surrounded by a group of admirers, fascinated by its beauty. She lay +there on a couch of purple, and around her loveliness there fell as it +were a shimmer from life's May-sun. Refined art-critics had settled her +age to be at most sixteen. There was still something of the enchanting +grace of the child in her slender limbs, and it was as if a veil of +innocence protected her. + +Who was she, the fair sleeper, the shaping of whose features was so +noble, the harmony of whose limbs was so perfect? Was it true, what +rumour whispered, that the original of the dazzling picture bore one of +the greatest names of France, that a high-born beauty of Faubourg St. +Germain had, unknown to the man, allowed the artist to behold the ideal +he had sought for but never found? Who was she? + +The doctor had stood there for a while listening to the murmur of praise +which bore witness to the young painter's triumph, and slowly making his +way through the fashionable crowd he approached the exit. He stopped +there for a moment or two watching one carriage after another roll down +the Champs Elysees, and then he wandered away across Place de la +Concorde and entered the Boulevard St. Germain. The clock struck seven +as he passed St. Germain des Pres and he hastened his steps, for he had +a long way still to go. He turned into one of the small streets near the +Jardin des Plantes, and it soon seemed as if he had left Paris behind +him. The streets began to darken, and narrowed into lanes, the great +shops shrank into small booths, and the cafes became pot-houses. Fine +coats became more and more rare, and blouses more numerous. It was +nearly eight o'clock, just theatre time down on the brilliant +boulevards, and up here groups of workmen wandered home after the day's +toil. They looked tired and heavy-hearted, but the work was hard, +already by six in the morning the bell was rung in the manufactories and +workshops, and many of them had had an hour's walk to come there. Here +and there stood a ragged figure with outstretched hand, he carried no +inscription on his breast telling how he became blind, he did not recite +one word of the story of his misery--he did not need to do that here, +for those that gave him a sou were poor themselves, and most of them had +known what it meant to be hungry. + +The alleys became dirtier and dirtier, and heaps of sweepings and refuse +were left in the filthy gutters; it did not matter so much up here where +only poor people lived. + +The doctor entered an old tumble-down house, and groped his way up the +slippery dark stairs as high as he could go. An old woman met him at the +door--he was expected. "_Zitto, zitto!_" (hush, hush), said the old +woman, with her fingers on her lips; "she sleeps." And in a whisper _la +nonna_ (the grandmother) reported how things had been going on since +yesterday. Raffaella had not been delirious in the night, she had lain +quite still and calm the whole day, only now and then she had asked to +see the child, and a short while ago she had fallen asleep with the +little one in her arms. Did _il signor Dottore_ wish to wake her up? No, +that he would not do. He sat himself down in silence beside the old +woman on the bench. They were very good friends these two, and he knew +well the sad story of the family. + +They were from St. Germano, the village up amongst the mountains half +way between Rome and Naples, whence most of the Italian models came. +They had arrived in Paris barely two years ago with a number of men and +women from their neighbourhood. Raffaella's mother had caught _la +febbre_ and died at Hotel Dieu a couple of months after their arrival, +and the old woman and the grandchild had had to look after themselves +alone in the foreign city. + +And Raffaella had become a model like the others. + +And a young artist painted her picture. He painted her beautiful girlish +head, he painted her young bosom. And then fell her poor clothes, and he +painted her maiden loveliness in its budding spring, in the innocent +peace of the sleeping senses. She was the butterfly-winged Psyche, whose +lips Eros has not yet kissed; she was Diana's nymph who, tired after +hunting, unfastens her chiton and, unseen by mortal eyes, bathes her +maiden limbs in the hidden forest lake; she was the fair Dryad of the +grove who falls asleep on her bed of flowers. + +His last picture was ready. Fame entered the young artist's studio, and +a ruined child went out from it. + +They separated like good friends, he wrote down her address with a piece +of charcoal on the wall, and she went to pose to another painter. So she +went from studio to studio, and her innocence protected her no longer. + +One day the old grandmother stood humbly at the door of the fashionable +studio, and told between her sobs that Raffaella was about to become a +mother. Ah yes! he remembered her well, the beautiful girl, and he put +some pieces of gold in the old woman's hand and promised to try to do +something for her. And he kept his word. The same evening he proposed to +his comrades to make a collection for Raffaella's child, and he assumed +that there was no one who had a right to refuse. There was no one who +had the right to refuse. They all gave what they could, some more and +some less, and more than one emptied his purse into the hat which went +round for Raffaella's child. They all thought it was such a pity for +her, the beautiful girl, to have had such bad luck. They wondered what +would become of her, she might of course continue to be a model, but +never would she be the same as before. The sculptors all agreed that the +beautiful lines of the hip could never stand the trial, and the painters +knew well that the exquisite delicacy of her colouring was lost for +ever. The child would of course be put out to nurse in the country, and +the money collected was enough to pay for a whole year. And it was not a +bad idea either to beg their friend, that foreign doctor, who was so +fond of Italians, to give an eye to Raffaella, he might perhaps be +useful in many future contingencies. + +And the doctor, who was so fond of Italians, had often been to see her +of late. Raffaella had been so ill, so ill, she had been delirious for +days and nights, and this was the first quiet sleep she had had for a +long time. + +No, the doctor certainly did not wish to wake her up; he sat there in +silence beside the old grandmother, deep in thought. He was thinking of +Raffaella's story. It was not new to him, that story, the Italian poor +quarter had more than once told it him, and he had often enough read it +in books. It seemed to him that what he saw in life was far simpler and +far sadder than what he read in books. Nor was there in Raffaella's +story anything very unusual or very sensational, no great display of +feeling either of sorrow or despair, no accusations, no threat for +vengeance, no attempt at suicide. Everything had gone so simply in such +everyday fashion. It was not with head erect and flaming eyes that the +old grandmother had stood before him who was guilty of the child's +fall, but in humble resignation she had stopped at the door and sobbed +out their misery, and when she left she had prayed the Madonna to reward +him for his charity. The poor old woman had her reasons for this--she +could not carry her head erect, for life had long since bent her neck +under the yoke of daily toil; her eyes could not flame with menace, for +they had too often had to beg for bread. She knew not how to accuse, for +she herself had been condemned unheard to oppression; she knew not how +to demand justice, for life had meant for her one long endurance of +wrongs. Her path had lain through darkness and misery, she had seen so +little of life's sunlight, and her thoughts had grown so dim under her +furrowed brow. She was dull, dull as an old worn-out beast of burden. + +And the seducer, he was perhaps after all not more of a blackguard than +many others. He had done what he could to atone for a fault, which from +his point of view was hardly to be considered so very great, he had +provided for a whole year for a child which he said was none of +his--what could he do more? He had asked the doctor if he knew of any +virtuous models, and the doctor had answered him, "No," for neither did +he know of any virtuous models. + +And Raffaella had borne her degradation as she had borne her poverty, +without bitterness and without despair; she wept sometimes, but she +accused no one, neither herself nor him who had injured her. She was +resigned. Authors believe that it is so easy to jump into the Seine or +to take a dose of laudanum, but it is very difficult. Raffaella was a +daughter of the people, no culture had entered into her thought-world, +either with its light or its shadow, she was far too natural even to +think of such a thing. + +He who was cultured had brought forward the question of sending the +child into the country or placing it in the _Enfants trouves_ (foundling +hospital), and she who was uncultured had known of no other answer than +to wind her arms still closer round her child's neck. And _la nonna_ +(the old grandmother), who scrubbed steps and carried coals all day, and +having at last lulled the child to rest in the evening, dead-tired went +to sleep with half-shut eyes and a string round her wrist, so as now and +then to rock the little one's cradle; neither could she understand that +it would be any relief if "_la piccerella_" were to be sent away. + +The light fell on the squalid bed, and the doctor looked at his patient. +Yes! it was indeed very like her, he certainly was a clever artist that +young painter! Her face was only a little paler now, that painful shadow +over the forehead was probably not to be seen in the bright studio +where the picture was painted, those dark rings round her eyes very +likely were not suitable for the Salon. But the same perfection of form +in every feature, the same noble shape of the head, the same childishly +soft rounding of the cheek, the same curly locks round the beautiful +brow; yes, rumour spoke true, she bore the mark of nobility on her +forehead, not that of Faubourg St. Germain, but that of Hellas, she bore +the features of the Venus of Milo. + +It was quite still up there in the dim little garret. The doctor looked +at the young mother who slept so peacefully with her child in her arms, +he looked at the old woman who sat by his side fingering her rosary. +With foreboding sadness he looked into the future which awaited these +three, and sorrowfully his thoughts wandered along the way which lay +before his poor friends. + +Ah yes, Raffaella soon got well, for she was healthy with Nature's +youth. Model she never became again, for she could not leave her child. +She did not marry, for her people do not forgive one who has had a child +by a _Signore_. With the baby at her breast she wandered about in search +of work, any work whatever. Her demands were so small, but her chances +were still smaller. She found no work. The old woman still held out for +a time, then she broke down and Raffaella had to provide food for three +mouths. The last savings were gone, and the Sunday clothes were at the +pawn-shop. Public charity did not help her, for she was a foreigner, and +private charity never came near Raffaella. She had to choose between +want or going on the streets. Her child lived and she chose want. The +world did not reward her for her choice, for virtue hungers and freezes +in the poor quarters of Paris. And she ended like so many others by +_fare la Scopa_.[24] Pale and emaciated sat the child on _la nonna's_ +knee, and with low bent back Raffaella swept the streets where pleasure +and luxury went by. Poverty had effaced her beauty, she bore the +features of want and hardship. Sorrow had furrowed her brow, but the +stamp of nobility was still there. Hats off for virtue in rags! It is +greater than the virtue of Faubourg St. Germain! + + * * * * * + +Perhaps a clever writer could make a nice little sketch out of +Raffaella's story; it is, however, as I said before, neither a very +original nor a very exciting one, it is quite commonplace. But I can +give you a subject for another little sketch; it is that doctor who is +so fond of Italians who has hit upon it. He has been thinking it over +for many years, but he never gets further than thinking. Write a story +about female models and dedicate it to artists! Write it without lies +and without sentimentality. Write it without exaggeration, for it needs +none; without severity, for we all have need of forbearance. Tell them, +the artists, how much we all like them, the light-hearted good-natured +comrades, tell them how proud we are of them, the happy interpreters of +our longing for beauty. But ask them why they so despise their models, +ask them if they know what becomes of the originals of their female +pictures! + +They know it well. + +If they answer you that they are young, that their temptations are +greater than those of any others, then reflect if you yourself have the +right to say any more to them. But if they answer you that the fault +lies with the models, then tell them to their faces that they lie. Then +tell them what road the greater part of the women models take--the +statistics are there and they cannot be contradicted. We know well that +many of these models have themselves to blame for their misfortunes, but +by far the greater part of them owe their fall to the misleading of an +artist. + +And look here! Is he then quite wrong, that doctor who thinks that the +artist stands towards his woman model in the same position as the +physician towards his woman patient? Society demands, and is right in +demanding, a passionless eye from the physician, and between the +physician's respect for his profession and the temptation of the man, +honour has no choice. The present day ranks art higher than science, why +then is not the artist's respect for his profession great enough to +protect a woman model! Why are there no virtuous models? Is not the +model the unknown collaborator in the artist's creation, is she not, +even she, although unconsciously a humble servant in the temple of art, +in that temple where the ancients placed the statue of the chaste Pallas +Athene? + +Yes, a clever writer may have a good deal more to say about this, and he +may also make use of that doctor's meditations if he thinks there is any +meaning in them, they have at least the merit of being founded upon +experience, experience of the art world of Paris as well as that of +Rome.[25] + +But he must not forget that it is the spoiled children of our day that +he is daring to blame. Should his article be to the point he may be sure +he will be very severely censured by them; let him take it as praise for +_il n'y a que la verite qui blesse_! And besides, let him remember that +the world's blame is as little worth caring about as its praise. + +[Footnote 24: The harbour of refuge for most of the shipwrecked ones who +still can and will work. The street scavengers of Paris are to a great +extent Italians.] + +[Footnote 25: I was for ten years the confidant, the friend, and the +doctor to most of the poor Italians in Paris, the greater number of whom +are models. My experience during these years was a terrible one. Nine +years in Rome have made the evidence still more conclusive. Of English +models I know nothing and have nothing to say.] + + + + + THE DOGS IN CAPRI + + AN INTERIOR + + +Like the ancient Romans, the Capri dogs devote the greater part of their +day to public life. The Piazza is their Forum, and it is there they +write their history. When Don Antonio opens the doors of his osteria, +and Don Nicolino, barber and bleeder, steps out of his "Salone," Capri +begins a new day. From all sides the dogs then come gravely walking +forth--the doctor's, the tobacconist's, the secretary's, Don +Archangelo's, Don Pietro's, etc. etc., and, after a greeting in +accordance with nature's prescribed ceremonial, they seat themselves +upon the Piazza to meditate. Don Antonio places a couple of chairs in +front of his cafe, and whilst some of them accept the invitation to lean +against them, others prefer the steps leading up to the Church, or that +comfortable corner by the Campanile, to whose clock generations have +listened with ever-increasing astonishment where, indomitable as the +sun, it presses forward on its own path, but alas! not that of the sun. + +After a while the dogs from Hotel Pagano make their appearance. They get +up later than the others, for they eat a terribly solid dinner. They all +descend from the venerable old "Timberio"[26] Pagano, who walks a little +behind the rest of his family. Timberio has a cataract in one eye, but +the other eye looks out upon life with immovable calm. The Pagano +dog-family has always ranked amongst the very first in Capri, and now, +since one of their masters, Manfredo, was made Sindaco, they have still +further accentuated that reserved bearing which they always understood +how to maintain towards the lower orders. They usually form a "circle" +of themselves and some of the Liberal dogs in the Municipal Portico. The +Conservative dogs, who were beaten at the last election when the Liberal +candidate, Manfredo Pagano, became Sindaco, cluster together in a +hostile minority on the other side of the Piazza by the steps leading up +to the Church. Now and then they take a look inside the Church, and seat +themselves down by the door with the greatest decorum, like humble +publicans, whilst the Mass is said in the chancel or the _Figlie di +Maria_ intone the Litany with half-singing voices. + +About ten o'clock appear Il Cacciatore's[27] two dogs, mother and son. +They go without hesitation straight into Don Antonio's wineshop. They +were born upon the island, but they have received an English education, +and they well know the taste of a leg of mutton or a piece of roast +beef. Don Antonio's dogs have also a certain idea of these things. After +several generations a vague Anglicism still survives amongst them from +the time when Don Antonio was steward on board an English steamboat, and +it is with a visible pride that they say to their Capri colleagues their +"Bow-wow-wow--how do you do, sir?" as any stranger approaches their +osteria. The German dogs never enter this place; in spite of all +Bismarck's efforts to win Don Antonio over to the triple alliance, they +are not well looked upon there, their permanent headquarters are still +at Morgano's "Zum Hiddigeigei," whence one can hear them barking and +yelping till late at night. + +The morning passes in calm _dolce far niente_ as a preparation for the +exertions of the day. Seldom has anything happened since they met here +yesterday, seldom is there the slightest indication that the day which +now begins will bring in its train any change in the imperturbable +harmony of their _status quo_. An Arcadian peace reigns over their whole +being, a contemplative calm is stamped upon their faces. And yet this +peace hovers over a volcano, like the summer which brightens the slopes +of Vesuvius away on the far horizon. Now and then the thunder growls +from the depths of Timberio Pagano's broad breast when Hotel Quisisana's +shaggy black guardian goes too near him. Seated on each side of the +_farmacia_ door the two doctors' four-footed assistants stick out their +tongues at each other on the sly, and often enough do the dogs of Don +Nicolino and Don Chichillo (the new barber) fall upon each other, so +that tufts of hair fly around. Animosity, however, soon sinks down +again, and, calm as the rippling waves against the old Emperor's bath +palace below, the hours glide away in rhythmical monotony. + +They watch the girls as they stride past with mighty _Tufa_-stones on +their well-poised heads, like the Caryatides of the Erechtheum; they +watch the Marina fishermen bringing up for sale in baskets the night's +haul of golden _Triglie_ and great _Scurmi_, of bright-coloured mussels +from some rocky reef, or perhaps a coral-spun old Roman amphora dragged +up by the deep _Palamido_ nets from out of its thousand-years-old +hiding-place at the bottom of the sea. + +Sometimes the longing for activity awakes, and they slowly cross the +Piazza to the corner of the Anacapri road to gaze dreamily upon the +bustling life in front of the stables, where cavalcades of _forestieri_ +are waiting impatiently whilst saddles are laid upon the donkeys' +bleeding backs, and rusty bits are stuffed into their sore mouths. +_Aaaaah! Aaaaah! Avanti!!_ Off, little donkeys, for Monte Solaro, one +hour and a half's stiff climbing with the happy tourists! Yes, the road +is beautiful, winding up along the side of the mountain, clad with +myrtle and broom. The view widens more and more--_Aaaaaah! Aaaaaaaah!!_ +one more climb, and the vineyards and olive woods lie deep under your +feet, and over your head rise steep cliffs as wild in their mighty +desolation as the Via Mala of the Alps; and Barbarossa's half-crumbling +castle riveted fast upon the edge of the precipice. Beyond gleams the +gulf girdled by the immortal beauty of the shore, and from Posilipo's +pine-crowned cape, island after island floats away towards the blue +distance of the Mediterranean--_wunderbar! kolossal!!_ + +Under the saddle it burns like fire, and the mouth is so sore with the +incessant tugging at the heavy bridle; but courage, little donkey! up +above upon the heights lives Padre Anselmo in his hermit chapel, and he +has good wine for thirsty throats! + +Other dogs who do not get so far as the donkey-stand lean thoughtfully +against the parapet of the Piazza, where some lounging sailors look out +over the gulf. The eyes wander far over the gleaming line of Naples, and +the mighty silhouette of Vesuvius, or follow absently the direction of +some outstretched hand pointing towards Capo Sorrento, whence can be +seen the steamboat on its way to Capri. And here come the two blind old +men, Fenocchio and Giovanni, groping their way across the Piazza to +their usual corner at the edge of the path, where the hum of thousands +of gay tourists has rustled by them, where they have sat for so many +years with their old fisher-caps in outstretched hands, and their vacant +eyes staring into their eternal night of gleaming sunshine: "_Date u +soldo Eccellenza al povero cieco! La Madonna vi accompagna!_" + +Up on the Piazza the dogs are beginning to awake, and in scattered +groups they wander across to the parapet to stare at the steamboat which +glides past in the blue water on its way to the Grotto. It is time to +start down to the Marina to greet the arriving strangers. Quisisana's, +Pagano's, and Hotel de France's dogs solemnly escort their respective +porters to the arched entrance of the Piazza with its Bourbon +coat-of-arms still enthroned above it. Small ready-saddled donkeys also +clatter patiently down the old stairway to the Marina, and with loud +cracks of the whip Felicello's coachmen rattle down the new +carriage-road. From the Piazza above, they watch the steamer anchoring +outside the harbour, and the small boats landing the passengers. A faint +interest lights up the passive faces of the lookers-on when the first +strangers reach the Piazza. But alas! always the same invariable types, +always the same colossal matron on the same slender little donkey, +always the same correct "misses" in Felicello's landau, always the same +fiery-red noisy Germans, wrangling over prices with the girls who have +dragged their boxes up the heights to the town. Seldom are there any +dogs amongst the arrivals, seldom does any occasion whatever arise for +interference in one way or another--passivity, nothing but passivity! + +Now the hotel bells ring for luncheon, and they one and all wander home. +The processes of digestion are carried out, according to correct +physiological laws undisturbed by any brain-work, and the afternoon is +passed in a siesta on some loggia, whilst the sun's rays slowly climb +the Anacapri cliff, and long shadows begin to glide down Monte Solaro's +slopes towards the town. The air is cool and refreshing, and they +prepare to resume public business on the Piazza. The second event of the +day is about to happen. The post arrives. Don Peppino (post-master) +solemnly shuts his office-door, and the loiterers wait with interest +whilst the post-bag is being opened inside. Always the same +disappointment--no letters for them, all the letters and newspapers are +for the strangers in the hotels! Sometimes they get hold of a _Corriere +di Napoli_ or a _Pungolo_, and then they disappear into some corner by +themselves to make people believe that they can read; but after they +have devoured the whole newspaper they are none the wiser for it. So +they become drowsy again and wander a few times round the Piazza, past +Don Antonio's _osteria_ with the faded photographs and dried-up biscuits +in the window, and a few unconscious philosophers meditating inside; +past Il Salone, where the flies keep watch over Don Nicolino's dreams; +past La Farmacia, where the morphia of idleness soothes Don Petruccio's +ideas to rest; past the stables where the donkeys are pushed into their +dark holes after the strangers have returned from their expedition. They +look out over the gulf where Ischia blushes in fading sunlight, while +dark-blue twilight falls around Vesuvius. The day's session draws to an +end and the Piazza is becoming deserted. Up in the Campanile there +suddenly breaks out a terrible row amongst the cogs and wheels, and at +last the old machinery loses its temper altogether, and, getting hold of +a rusty hammer, begins to beat with all its might on some unwilling +bells: "_Ventiquattro ore_," yawns Don Nicolino, shutting up his Salone; +"_Ventiquattro ore_," say the flies, and go to sleep amongst the brushes +and combs; "_Ventiquattro ore_," say the dogs, and go home with the +feeling of having performed their duty to gather strength for the next +day's toils by twelve or fourteen hours' dreamless sleep. + +Then the church bells ring out the Ave Maria, and the day sinks into the +sea. + +So passes day after day, each like the other, as are the beads of the +rosaries which glide between the fingers of the _Figlie di Maria_ inside +the Church. Each morning collects the citizens for social duty on the +Piazza--each evening the campanile exhorts them to go to rest. + +Under the walls of the houses the shadows begin to grow smaller and +smaller, and the paving-stones of the Piazza get hotter and hotter in +the sun-bath. Uneasy dreams begin to disturb the peace of the siesta, +and Capri is seized with an irresistible desire to scratch itself. Don +Antonio spreads the awning before his wineshop, and the questions of the +day are oftener and oftener dealt with under its protecting shade. They +linger later on the Piazza in the warm evenings, and with nose in the +air they sit for long hours on the parapet looking out over the gulf +towards Vesuvius, whose mighty smoke-cloud slowly spreads over the +mainland--the wind is south, all is as it should be! And, with +apprehensive thoughts of fatigues to come, they troop home to their +much-needed repose. + +The Piazza is quite empty, now and then a short bark is heard from some +wineshop, or a howling "_Potz Donner Wetter!_" from Hiddigeigei's +beer-house, then everything is still, and only the old watchman in the +Campanile counts over the hours of the night in a sonorous brazen voice +to keep himself awake. Still for a while the white town gleams out +amongst the cliffs, then it becomes quite dark and Capri's isle sinks +into the gloom of night. + +But lo! already climbs the moon over Sorrento's mountain, and the veil +of twilight glides down Monte Solaro's heights, over shimmering olive +woods, over orange and myrtle groves, and vanishes amid the waves of the +gulf. Night dreams a beautiful dream, and mysteriously the siren's +moonlit island rises out of the dark sea. A gentle south wind breathes +over the water, murmurs amidst the half-slumbering waves, flies +fragrantly over orange-trees in blossom, and playfully rocks the tender +vine branches. Jubilant voices call out from the sea, louder and louder +they sound in the stillness of the night, and the wanderer on Monte +Solaro hears the rustling of wings in the moonlit space above. + +When Capri awakes the next morning, every one knows that the wild geese +have passed. Spring has come, and the shooting season has begun! From +early morning the Piazza is full of dogs. The quiet of everyday life has +departed, a certain energy animates their dull features, and the +reflection of an idea lights up the contemplative gloom of their eyes. + +In front of Maria Vacca's butcher-shop hangs a dead quail, and outside +Don Antonio's _osteria_ stand guns in long rows, and upon the chairs lie +great game-bags and powder-horns. Il Cacciatore has been in the wineshop +since sunrise, in colossal shooting-boots with cartridge-belt round his +waist. Woe to the quail which may now appear in Maria Vacca's shop! It +vanishes at once into Il Cacciatore's game-bag. Inside the Municipal +Portico a younger generation listens to old Timberio Pagano's shooting +stories of the days of his youth, when many thousand quails were caught +in a day, and up on the Church steps the clericals think sadly of that +period of vanished splendour when Capri had its own Bishop, whose +maintenance was paid by the quail harvest--"_Vescovo delle quaglie_"[28] +as he was called in Rome. Excitement increases as the hours pass, and +when at last the Campanile's bells announce that the first day's +shooting is over, each one goes to his home to gather strength for the +next day's exertions. Once again darkness falls upon the island, and +Capri sleeps the sleep of the just. + +On tired wings swarms of birds fly over the sea. Thousands have fallen +on Africa's coasts, where they assembled for their long journey, +thousands have sunk exhausted amidst the waves, thousands will die on +the rocky island which glimmers from afar in the darkness. Sheltered by +the last hour of gloom they approach the island and silently swoop down +upon its steep coast, upon the heights by Villa di Tiberio, where the +hermit watches behind his snares; amongst the cliffs of Mitromania and +the Piccola Marina, where nets are spread to catch their wings; upon the +headlands of Limbo and Punta di Carena, where the Capri dogs, stealthy +as cats, sneak round after their prey. When day dawns over Monte +Solaro, and its first rays stream even as they did two thousand years +ago in sacred fire upon the old sun-god's crumbling altar in the grotto +of Mitromania,[29] hundreds of birds, quails, wood-pigeons, larks, +thrushes, flutter in the nets around, and hundreds of others bleed to +death amongst the cliffs--but what cares the sun for that! What matters +it to the sun that the darkness he disperses conceals a multitude of +worn-out birds from rapacious eyes, that to-day death stalks from cliff +to cliff along the track shown by his gleaming light: + + "So che Natura e sorda, + Che miserar non sa; + Che non del Ben sollecita + Fu, ma dell 'esser solo."[30] + +Upon the heights of Monte Solaro sits Il Cacciatore, armed to the teeth, +looking with the eye of a conqueror over the field of battle below. The +day has been a hot one, Il Cacciatore has fired some hundred shots in +different directions. At his feet lie his two dogs, mother and son, and +behind him sits Spadaro with an extra gun in his hands and an enormous +game-bag over his shoulder. Now and then mother and son give little +yelps and wag their tails, following in their dreams an escaping bird, +now and then Il Cacciatore's hand fumbles after his trusty gun to bring +down an imaginary quail or pigeon, now and then Spadaro seems to stuff +some new booty into his vast bag. Deeper and deeper grows the silence +over Monte Solaro. Down at their feet the three rocks of Faraglione +shine in purple and gold, and the glow of the sinking sun falls on the +waves of the gulf. From the town of Capri hotel bells ring for dinner. +A fragrant hallucination of quail-pie tickles Il Cacciatore's nostrils, +and from under his half-shut eyelids the whole gulf assumes a +tantalising resemblance to a sea of pure _Capri rosso_--that purple hue +which already old Homer likened to red wine--whilst Spadaro's more +modest imagination hears the macaroni splutter and boil in the murmur of +the waves against the cliff below, and sees the purple glow of the +evening sun pour masses of "pumaroli"[31] sauce over it. + +Suddenly Il Cacciatore rubs his eyes and looks dreamily around, and +Spadaro investigates with amazement the bag, where only a single little +lark, which was on its way to give spring concerts in the north, sleeps +his last sleep. _Hallo! Spadaro! Andiamonci!_[32] The dogs wake up by +degrees, and the caravan starts slowly on its way towards Capri. Tired +by the day's toil, at last they reach the Piazza and its friendly +wineshop, where Il Cacciatore sits down to rest whilst Spadaro and the +dogs carry home the lark in triumph. + +So pass the weeks of the shooting season in continued exertions. Every +morning before daybreak they start off to try and capture Spring in its +flight, every evening they meet on the Piazza to rest, and often enough +do we assemble round our friend Il Cacciatore's table to partake of a +magnificent quail-pie, such as only he can put before us. + +But although the ranks are thinned, the March of The Ten Thousand still +advances victoriously. Soon the larks sing over the frosty fields in the +distant North, soon the swallows twitter under the eaves of the far-off +little cottage, which has lain so long half-buried in snow, and the +quails sound their monotonous note in the spring evenings. + +The shooting season is over, and the Capri dogs sit blankly upon the +Piazza, staring out over the gulf in the direction the bird flew when he +escaped out of their hands. Higher and higher the sacred fire flames +each morning upon the sun-god's altar down in Mitromania's grotto, +brighter and brighter the Faraglioni rocks gleam each evening with +purple and gold, with a still ruddier glow the wine-hue of the gulf +fascinates Il Cacciatore's retina. Silently the liberal dogs ponder over +the burning questions of the day, and, panting, the clericals listen +from their sunny church steps to the prophecies of the fires of _Il +purgatorio_, which the priests proclaim every Sunday inside the cool +Church. Public life ceases by degrees, and it seems as if a reaction +sets in after the excitement of the shooting season. The arrival of the +steamer is certainly still watched from the Piazza, and with one eye +open they look at the few strangers who wander up to the Piazza with +outspread sketching-umbrellas and easel and colour-box on a boy's head. +True, they still assemble in front of the closed door of the office to +await the opening of the post-bag, but interest in political life has +slackened, and their hope of letters has become a quiet resignation. +Inside the _Farmacia_ the drugs ferment in their pots, and in Don +Nicolino's Salone living frescoes of flies adorn the walls. About the +slopes of Monte Salaro the Scirocco hangs in heavy clouds, and an +irresistible drowsiness settles down upon the Piazza. Capri enters into +its summer torpor. + +When it awakes the sun has subdued his fire, and the table stands ready +spread for the lords of creation to seat themselves and feast, and for +the dogs to gather up the fragments that remain. From the _pergola_ +over their heads hang grapes in heavy clusters, and amidst the shade of +the orange-groves peep out juicy figs and red-cheeked peaches. Then +comes the Bacchanalia of the vintage, with song and jest and maiden's +bright eyes looking out from under huge baskets of grapes, and naked +feet freeing the slumbering butterfly of wine from its crushed +chrysalis. + +Over the Piazza a cooling sea breeze blows now and again, and Capri +takes a refreshing bath of heavy autumnal rain to wash away the heat and +dust of summer. The dogs save themselves in time from the vivacity of +the unknown element, but millions of obscure lives are drowned in the +streams which force their way like a deluge over the bloody battle-field +of summer, whilst others find their Ararat amongst the brushes in Don +Nicolino's Salone. + +The mist of unconsciousness is gradually lifted from the dogs' brains, +and waking dreams about activity and strength stare out from their +half-shut eyes. Don Nicolino smilingly dusts the halo of flies from his +portrait, and, deep in thought, Don Petruccio composes a new elixir of +life from summer's _mixtum compositum_. Fenocchio and Giovanni seat +themselves again in their corner to wash a little copper out of the +tourist stream, and with trembling legs the small donkeys once more +unload numbers of _forestieri_ in the Piazza. From Vesuvius the smoke +falls in long cloud-streamers over the gulf, and upon the wings of the +Tramontana (the north wind), Summer flies home again after her +wedding-trip to the North. In vain do the Capriotes spread their nets +once more round the shores of the island; in vain do the dogs lie in +wait amongst the rocks; in vain does Il Cacciatore sit in full armour on +the heights of Monte Solaro and shoot off his cartridges after the +fugitive--Summer passes by. + +With drooping tails the dogs sit huddled together upon the stones of +their Piazza, thinking with sorrow of their departed summer idyll. From +snow-covered Apennines, Winter comes sailing in his foam-hidden +dragon-ship over the uneasy waters of the gulf. The storm thunders +amidst the ruins of the old watch-tower, whose alarm-bell[33] has been +silent for so long, and amongst the foaming breakers the mad Viking +boards Capri's cliffs. Strong as a whirlwind he cuts in pieces the +pergola garlands which were left hanging after Autumn's Bacchanalian +feast, and, brutal as a savage, he tears asunder the leaf-woven chiton +which clothed the Dryad of the grove. + +But down in Mitromania's grotto the sacred fire flames as before upon +the old Persian god's altar, and tenderly the God of Day spreads his +shining shield over his beloved island and bids the barbarian from the +North go to sea again. So he departs, the rough stranger, his errand +unaccomplished, without having robbed a single rose from the maiden's +sun-warmed cheek, without having stolen a single golden fruit from the +everlasting green of the orange groves. And scarcely has he turned his +back before tiny fearless violets peep carefully out from among the +hillocks, and narcissus and rosemary clamber high up on the steep cliffs +to see whither the harsh Northerner has gone, and soon a whole flock of +flower children come and set themselves down to play at summer in the +grass. + +Upon the Piazza the dogs sit as before in sunny contemplation. The cycle +of their life's emotions has been run through, and they begin to turn +over anew the blank pages of their history, page after page in unvarying +sequence. Day follows day and year follows year, and soon old age comes +and scatters some white almond blossom upon their heads. The buoyant +delights of the senses are benumbed, youth's far-flying thoughts have +broken their wings against the four walls of the Piazza, and like tame +ducks they go round and round their enclosed space, from Don Antonio's +wineshop to Felicello's donkey-stand, from Don Nicolino's Salone to Don +Petruccio's Farmacia. Now and again the free cry of the passing wild +geese high above in space reaches the Piazza, the early youthful courage +wakes anew, and they sluggishly tramp along towards the Anacapri road as +far as their heavy limbs can carry them. Now and again a faint echo from +some world's revolution trembles on their tympanums through Don +Peppino's post-office, and they look away in dreaming peace to the white +town of Naples, the noise of whose human life is lost amidst the murmur +of the waves, or away to the old revolutionist Vesuvius, whose +threatening wrath will never reach their Eden. + +So they sit on their Piazza, staring out upon the river of time as it +flows past them. They still sit there staring for a few more years to +come, then they move no more--they have become hypnotised. The struggle +for existence has ceased, and imperceptibly they sink into Buddha's +Nirvana, unconscious, painless, inebriate with the sun. + +[Footnote 26: I write here as I talk here--not Italian but Capri +dialect. The old Emperor, who lived on the island for eleven years, is +never called Tiberio here, but "Timberio."] + +[Footnote 27: Our friend old Mr. X----, for fifteen years the delight +and ornament of the Piazza of Capri, always cheerful, always thirsty, a +great destroyer of quails and wine-bottles, now at last gone to rest in +the quiet little field outside the town of Capri, where the sombre green +of some laurel and cypress-trees stands out between the waving branches +of his favourite plant, the vine. Old Spadaro is still alive, and will +tell you all about his lamented master.] + +[Footnote 28: Quail bishop. Capri no longer owns a bishop, but the quail +harvest still forms one--and perhaps the most important--item of the +island's revenue.] + +[Footnote 29: Few strangers visit the grotto of Mitromania, the name of +which may be derived from _Magnum Mitrae Antrum_. It faces east, and the +first rays of the sun light up its mysterious gloom. One knows from +excavations made here that once upon a time the old, yet ever young, +sun-god was worshipped in this cave.] + +[Footnote 30: Leopardi.] + +[Footnote 31: Pumaroli-pomidoro, _i.e._ tomato, the Southern Italian's +favourite fruit, the most important ingredient in everything he eats, +sweetening the monotony of his macaroni.] + +[Footnote 32: "Let us be off."] + +[Footnote 33: The alarm-bell used to be rung from the old tower to warn +the shores of the gulf of the approach of pirates.] + + + + + ZOOLOGY + + +They say that love for mankind is the highest of all virtues. I admire +this love for mankind, and I know well that it only belongs to noble +minds. My soul is too small, my thought flies too near the earth ever to +reach so far, and I am obliged to acknowledge that the longer I live the +farther I depart from this high ideal. I should lie if I said that I +love mankind. + +But I love animals, oppressed, despised animals, and I do not care when +people laugh at me because I say that I feel happier with them than with +the majority of people I come across. + +When one has spoken with a human being for half an hour, one has, as a +rule, had quite enough, isn't it so? I, at least, then usually feel +inclined to slip away, and I am always astonished that he with whom I +have been speaking has not tried to escape long before. But I am never +bored in the society of a friendly dog, even if I do not know him or he +me. Often when I meet a dog walking along by himself, I stop and ask him +where he is going and have a little chat with him; and even if no +further conversation takes place, it does me good to look at him and try +to enter into the thoughts which are working in his mind. Dogs have this +immense advantage over man that they cannot dissimulate, and +Talleyrand's paradox that speech has been given us in order to conceal +our thoughts, cannot at all be applied to dogs. + +I can sit half the day in a field watching the grazing cattle; and to +observe the physiognomy of a little donkey is one of the keenest +pleasures of a psychologist. But it is specially when donkeys are free +that they are most interesting, a tied-up donkey is not nearly so +communicative as when she is loose and at liberty, and that after all is +not much to be wondered at. + +At Ischia I lived for a long time almost exclusively with a donkey. It +was Fate which brought us together. I lived in a little boat-house down +at the Marina, and the donkey lived next door to me. I had quite lost my +sleep up in the stifling rooms of the hotel, and had gladly accepted my +friend Antonio's invitation to live down at the Marina in his cool +boat-house, while he was out fishing in the bay of Gaeta. I fared +exceedingly well in there amongst the pots and fishing-nets; and astride +on the keel of an old upturned boat I wrote long love-letters to the +sea. And when evening came and it began to grow dusk in the boat-house, +I went to bed in my hammock, with a sail for a covering and the memory +of a happy day for a pillow. I fell asleep with the waves and I woke +with the day. Each morning came my neighbour, the old donkey, and stuck +in her solemn head through the open door, looking steadfastly at me. I +always wondered why she stood there so still and did nothing but stare +at me, and I could not hit upon any other explanation than that she +thought I was nice to look at. I lay there half awake looking at her--I +thought that she too was nice to look at. She resembled an old family +portrait as she stood there with her gray head framed by the doorway +against the blue background of a summer's morning. Out there it grew +lighter and lighter, and the clear surface of the sea began to glitter. +Then came a ray of sunlight dancing right into my eyes, and I sprang up +and greeted the gulf. I had nothing whatever to do all day, but the poor +donkey was supposed to be at work the whole forenoon up in Casamicciola. +There grew, however, such a sympathy between us that I found a +substitute for her, and then we wandered carelessly about all day long, +like true vagabonds wherever the road led us. Sometimes it was I who +went first with the donkey trotting quietly at my heels, sometimes it +was she who had got a fixed determination of her own, and then I +naturally followed her. I studied the whole time with great attention +the interesting personality I had so unexpectedly come across, and it +was long since I had found myself in such congenial company. I might +have much more to say about all this, but these psychological researches +may prove far too serious a topic for many of my readers, and I +therefore believe I had better stop here. + +And the birds, who can ever tire of them? Hour after hour I can sit on a +mossy stone and listen to what a dear little bird has to say--I, who can +never keep my thoughts together when some one is talking to me. But have +you noticed how sweet a little bird is to look at when he sings his +song, and now and again bends his graceful head, as if to listen for +some one to answer far away in the forest? In the late summer, when the +bird-mother has to teach her children to talk--do not believe it is +only a matter of instinct, even they have to take lessons in learning +their singing language--have you watched these lessons when the mother +from her swinging-chair lectures about something or other, and the +summer-old little ones stammer after her with their clear child-voices? + +And when the birds are silent, I have only to look down among the grass +and moss to light on other acquaintances to keep me company. Over waving +grass and corn flies a dragon-fly on wings of sun-glitter and fairy-web, +and deep down in the path, which winds between the mighty grass stems, a +little ant struggles on with a dry fir-needle on her back. Rough is the +road, now it goes up-hill and now it goes down-hill, now she pushes the +heavy load like a sledge before her, now she carries it upon her slender +shoulders. She pulls so hard up-hill that her whole little body +stiffens, she rolls down the steep slopes with her burden clasped +tightly in her arms; but she never lets go, and onward it goes, for the +ant is in a hurry to get home. Soon the dew will fall, and then it is +unsafe to be out in the trackless forest, and best to be home in peace +after the day's work is ended. Now the road becomes mountainous and +steep, and suddenly a mighty rock rises in front of her--what the name +of that rock is the ant knows well enough; I know nothing, and to me it +looks like an ordinary pebble. The ant stops short and ponders awhile, +then she gives a signal with her antennae, which I am too stupid to +understand but which others at once respond to, for from behind a dry +leaf I see two other ants approach to the rescue. I watch how they hold +a council of war, and how the new arrivals with great concern pull the +log to try how heavy it is. Suddenly they stand quite still and +listen--an ant-patrol marches by a little way off, and I see how a +couple of ants are told off to lend assistance. Then they all take hold +together, and like sailors they haul up the log with a long slow pull. + +I understand it is to repair the havoc made by an earthquake that the +log is to be used--how many hard-working lives were perhaps crushed +under the ruins of the fallen houses, and what evil power was it that +destroyed what so much patient labour built up? I dare not ask, for who +knows if it were not a passing man who amused himself by knocking down +the ant-hill with his stick! + +And all the other tiny creatures, whose name I do not know, but into +whose small world I look with joy, they also are fellow-citizens in +Creation's great society, and probably they fulfil their public duties +far better than I fulfil mine! + +And besides, when thus lying down and staring into the grass, one ends +by becoming so very small oneself. + +And at last it seems to me as if I were nothing but an ant myself, +struggling on with my heavy load through the trackless forest. Now it +goes up-hill and now it goes down-hill. But the thing is not to let go. +And if there is some one to help to give a pull where the hill seems too +steep and the load too heavy, all goes well enough. + +But suddenly Fate comes passing by and knocks down all that has been +built up with so much hard labour. + +The ant struggles on with her heavy load deep in the trackless forest. +The way is long, and there is still some time before the day's work is +over and the dew falls. + +But high overhead flies the dream on wings of sun-glitter and fairy-web. + + + + + HYPOCHONDRIA + + +The study of micro-organisms has directed medical science into new +channels, and thrown open a hitherto undreamt-of world for eager +investigators. The list of recent discoveries in bacteriology is already +a long one. Koch's researches in cholera and tuberculosis, and Pasteur's +method of vaccination against hydrophobia, are but links in the chain +which one day shall fetter the hydra-headed dragon of disease. Less +known, but hardly less important, are the very latest studies of +hypochondria, which have led to the discovery that this evil also +belongs to infectious diseases. + +Struck by the constant disorder of thought and sensibility which +characterise the hypochondriac, the doctors have up till now placed this +malady amongst the nervous diseases, and it is in the central organs of +the nervous system, more especially the brain, that its seat and origin +have been determined. We finally know that hypochondria is an infectious +disease, caused by a microbe which has been isolated, and named +_Bacillus niger_ (A. M.). + +It is after all astonishing that this discovery has escaped so many +investigators ever since Burton, whose _Anatomy of Melancholy_ still +remains unparalleled--it is astonishing when one considers the many +analogies which connect this so-called nervous disease with some of the +best-known bacterial diseases, such as hydrophobia, tuberculosis, and +cholera. As in hydrophobia, so in hypochondria the virus spreads over +the nervous system, produces constant and well-known disorders in the +brain, and ends here also by paralysis, paralysis of the affected +individual's intellectual and moral functions, and, at last, mental +death. As in hydrophobia, one also notices by the bacillus niger +infection cramp in certain groups of muscles--that of the muscles of +laughter being, for instance, very common. This cramp, _risus +sardonicus_, is excessively painful, and its prognostic signification is +a bad one, for it is a characteristic of absolutely incurable cases +(Heine). + +The tendency to bite, which characterises hydrophobia, is also +encountered in certain forms of hypochondria (Schopenhauer). As a rule +the affected individual is, however, inoffensive and resigned +(Leopardi). + +The cholera characteristic, _Stadium algidum_, is also to be found in +bacillus niger infection--a Stadium algidum when the soul slowly grows +cold, and at last reaches the zero of insensibility (Tiberius). + +The curious, and, up till now, unexplained immunity which protects +certain individuals from cholera, appears again in hypochondria--so, +for instance, have idiots shown themselves absolutely refractory, _i.e._ +not receptive of the bacillus niger infection. The explanation of the +relative rarity of hypochondria is probably to be found in this +fact. . . . + +In analogy with what experimental pathology has taught us about the +microbes of cholera and tuberculosis, the bacillus niger does not seem +to thrive on animals, though several exceptions to this rule are to be +found, and as the tuberculosis bacillus is exceedingly common amongst +cows, so may be pointed out the great diffusion of bacillus niger +infection amongst old donkeys (Rosina). I do not believe, though, that +here, as with the cows, one can speak of spontaneous infection--the +virus has, in the case of the old donkey, more probably been introduced +into the blood through a flogged back. Dogs seem, after a long contact +with infected individuals, to be receptive of contagion (Puck). + +Bacillus niger originates in the heart--there is no doubt about +that--the disorders of the brain are secondary. The explanation why the +seat of the evil has been supposed to be the brain is natural enough, +because as a rule it is only since the infection has spread to the brain +that the malady can be diagnosed. So long as bacillus niger has only +attacked the heart, the diagnosis is much more difficult. The nature of +the evil can, however, here, as in certain forms of tuberculosis, be +easily enough detected at the back of the eyes. This is probably in +relation with the morbid alteration of the organ of sight, which +characterises the bacillus niger infection--_the patient sees life as it +is_; when, on the contrary, as is well known, in the normal eye the +vision of the outer world is reflected through certain media, illusions +and never-dying hope, before it is transferred through the optic nerve +to the brain. + +As with microbes of the before-mentioned diseases, bacillus niger is +also exceedingly tenacious of life. Its virulence can be temporarily +reduced by alcohol, ink, and music. As for alcohol, its effect is +indubitable, but unfortunately of very short duration. The microbe very +soon--indeed, already the next morning, according to all +experimentalists--regains its full vigour, and its temporary inactivity +seems rather to have increased its virulence instead of decreasing it. +Like most of the other antimicrobic agents, alcohol is in itself a +deadly poison, and its application in the treatment of the disease is +therefore very limited. It is to be used with the greatest precaution, +for there are numerous instances of the individual having followed his +microbe to the grave. + +May I here mention _en passant_ a harmless old quack remedy--the common +practice of smoking out the microbe. The home of the tobacco-plant is +the same land where the poppy of oblivion blossoms, the silent shores +between which flows the stream of Lethe. The fragrance of its leaf has +deadened the microbe in more than one diseased brain, the clouds from an +old pipe have hidden the reality from more than one sorrowful eye. (Do +you remember Rodolphe in Henri Murger's _Vie de Boheme_?) + +Ink as a bactericide is less known, but worth consideration. I know of a +case, to which I shall return later, where a momentary amelioration was +produced by an ink-cure. Contrary to alcohol, this specific can be used +without any danger whatever to the individual himself--the danger being +limited to his surroundings. The microbe is dipped in the ink-stand, and +fixed on paper to dry. It maintains, however, its virulence long enough, +and can, transplanted in a fertile soil, regain its vigour and grow. +The preparation must, therefore, be strictly locked up in the +writing-desk, which now and then must be disinfected, the surest +disinfectant being here, as always, fire. + +As for music, this treatment was known even in the childhood of science; +it was already highly esteemed by the ancients--hypochondria is, as is +well known, one of the oldest of all diseases; it resounds already in +the choruses of Sophocles and Euripides. The new world of bacteriology +was then undreamt of, but the discoveries of thousands of years have +done no more than verify the experience of the ancients. Music still +remains the greatest consoler of sorrow-stricken man. Still to-day Saul +seeks relief for his sombre soul from David's harp, still to-day does +Orpheus conquer the shades of Hades by the sound of his lute; still +to-day the song calls out for the Eurydice of our longing. + + * * * * * + +As was to be expected, the discovery of the microbe of hypochondria gave +quite a new direction to the study of the treatment of this disease. To +relate here the far-reaching experiences which followed the isolation of +the bacillus niger would carry us too far--enough to say that the +results of these investigations have unfortunately up till now been +hopelessly negative. We, however, find it expedient to mention in a few +words the experiments in air-therapeutics by which the discoverer of the +microbe hoped to find a remedy for the evil--true that the result was +even here negative, but there is a certain amount of interest still +attached to these experiments which, pursued with more patience, might +perhaps have led to a more satisfactory result. Starting from the +analogy between the bacillus niger infection and tuberculosis, the +doctor emitted his hypothesis of a region of immunity from hypochondria +as well as from consumption, of a possibility of finding in the pure air +of the high altitudes a medium where the development of bacillus niger +in the mind would cease, as well as the development of the +tuberculosis-bacilli in the lungs. It was in the domain of experimental +pathology--the field where Pasteur and Koch reaped their laurels--that +the solution of the problem was to be looked for, and the bacterium in +question living almost exclusively on mankind, the suitable animal for +experiment had in this case necessarily to be a man. The doctor had for +several years attended an individual affected with the complaint in +question. It was a fine case. We quote here from the notes of the +doctor: "Man about thirty. The patient maintains an obstinate silence as +to the origin of his sufferings; it is, however, evident that the evil +dates from several years back. External examination nothing +remarkable--on the contrary. Big dog at his heels. Energy but little +developed. Active impulses wanting. Ambition rudimentary. Intelligence +mediocre--maybe slightly above. Sense of humour well defined, as usual +in these cases. Sensibility abnormally developed. Heart perhaps rather +large. Tendency for idealism. Patient has hallucinations--fancies, for +instance, he is surrounded by people who suffer and hunger; imagines +seeing all sorts of animals oppressed and tortured to death." The doctor +had in vain prescribed several things in order to calm and distract his +diseased mind, rest-cure in Anacapri for a whole year; earthquake in +Ischia, cholera in Naples, etc. etc., but without any enduring result. +Returned to Paris, the patient had, though with visible aversion, gone +through a cure of ink-treatment, and in the beginning had felt a little +better for it, but had soon fallen back to his normal condition of +hopeless dejection. The doctor was at his wit's end, and began to be +bored to death by the continual lamentations of his patient. The +unfortunate man was perpetually hanging about in the doctor's +consulting-room, and ended by taking up nearly his whole day, to the +great detriment of his other practice. It was then the doctor +communicated to his patient his hypothesis of the possibility of a +region of immunity from hypochondria, as from consumption, and the +desirability of finding a fitting animal for experiment, for the purpose +of studying the influence of high altitudes on hypochondria. + +The patient placed himself at the doctor's absolute disposal. + +On the top of Mont Blanc (4810 metres) the doctor still found a +considerable quantity of microbes in the thoughts of his patient. The +patient complained that he felt so small and forlorn up there on the +pinnacles of Nature's temple, where all around him the Alps raised their +marble-shining arch of triumph over the silent cloud-heavy earth. With +awe he bent his eyes before the beaming majesty of the sun, where, +indomitable and unconscious, the Almighty Ruler trod his course over the +shade and light of the valleys, over the sorrow and joy of man. + +Chained to the ice-axe firmly riveted in the frozen snow, did the doctor +leave his patient for a whole night on a projecting rock, under the +shoulder of the Matterhorn (4273 metres), while the snowstorm passed. +Now and then a flash of lightning flamed through the icy night of the +desolate precipices; like combating Titans, giant-shaped crags stood out +between storm-driven clouds, and the mighty mountain shook, while the +thunder rolled over the snow-fields. Then everything became still; the +storm passed by, and like silent birds of the night heavy flakes of +snow floated through the darkness. With stiff-frozen limbs, half-covered +with snow, sat the patient in mute wonder, looking out over Matterhorn's +sombre cliffs, over Monte Rosa's desolate glaciers. The patient +complained of feeling so utterly helpless before the magnificent force +which had built up this, the proudest monument of the Alps, so crushed +before the time-defying Titan, who, it seemed to him, was only going to +fall with the world, which was his footstool. . . . He listened with awe +to the mountains answer; high above his head he heard the thunder of +loosening rocks, and while the echo replied from the Ebihorn cliffs, an +avalanche of rattling stones rolled along the flank of the mountain to +break into fragments and disappear deep down amongst the crevices of the +Zmutt glacier--mute testimonies that even the mightiest mountain of the +Alps was condemned to crumble away into grains of sand in the +hour-glass of the Eternal, broken fragments from the oldest monument of +creation, teaching, like the modern hieroglyphics from the Nile, that +all shall perish. + +As the night passed on the patient felt more and more downcast and +miserable. The doctor had already given up the experiment as hopeless, +when towards daybreak, to his great astonishment, symptoms of an +unmistakable amelioration showed themselves. The patient's head had +fallen on the guide's shoulder; a painless repose crept over his +stiffening limbs, and with utmost interest the doctor found an almost +complete absence of bacillus niger in the benumbed thought of his +patient. The doctor watched for a while in great excitement the +patient's pale face, while the darkness of the night vanished more and +more, and the dawn of a new day flew over the horizon. He was just going +to make a new test on bacillus niger, when one of the guides suddenly +leaned his ear against the patient's breast, and then anxiously began to +rub his nostrils and half-open eyelids with brandy, and to pull his arms +and legs. . . . + +When he shortly afterwards slowly opened his eyes, he was more depressed +than ever, and remained decidedly worse for several days. + +After renewed experiments on Monte Rosa, Schreckhorn, Die Jungfrau, and +a prolonged observation in a crevasse under the Mont Maudit cliffs of +Mont Blanc (1471 metres), the doctor had to give up his hypothesis of +immunity from hypochondria. In spite of the isolation of the microbe, we +are obliged to admit that no positive result has been gained up till now +as to the treatment of the affected individual--the analogy with cholera +and even tuberculosis can, alas! be applied even here. We continue to +remain powerless to cure hypochondria. We are able to soothe the +sufferings of the hypochondriac, because we are able to deaden his +microbe--kill it, we cannot. After more or less time the bacillus niger +recovers his virulence, and the diseased individual retakes his +momentary interrupted course towards the sombre land whence no traveller +returns, and over whose doors are written those words of the great seer: + + "Lasciate ogni Speranza, voi ch'entrate!" + +A severe scientific critic might, however, object that the +above-mentioned experiment on the influence of high altitude on +hypochondria was not pursued long enough to make its negative result +absolutely conclusive. Who knows if the solution of the problem did not +slip out of the doctor's hands that night on the Matterhorn? Who knows +if the patient might not for all time have been freed from his bacillus, +if he had been allowed to remain a little longer up there on the +Matterhorn's cliff, under the cover of the falling snow, while the +darkness of the night vanished more and more from his benumbed thought, +and the dawn of a new day flew past his half-opened eye? + + + + + LA MADONNA DEL BUON CAMMINO + + Naples, 1884. + + +The doctor had often seen him at the door of the sanctuary looking out +over the dirty lane, and, even when a long distance from each other, +friendly salutations were exchanged between them in the usual Neapolitan +fashion of waving hands, with "_Buon giorno, Don Dionisio!_" "_Ben +venuto, Signor Dottore!_" + +Often, too, he had looked in at the old deserted cloister garden, with +its dried-up fountain and a few pale autumn roses against the wall of +the little chapel. And Don Dionisio had related to him many of the +miracles of the Madonna of Buon Cammino. The Madonna of Buon Cammino +stood there quite alone in her half-ruined sanctuary, and only one tiny +little oil-lamp struggled with the darkness within. With great +solemnity Don Dionisio had drawn aside the curtain which veiled his +Madonna from profane eyes; and tenderly as a mother he had arranged the +tattered fringes of her robe, which threatened to fall to pieces +altogether. And the doctor had looked with compassionate wonder upon the +pale waxen image with the impassive smile on the rigid features, which +to Don Dionisio's eyes reflected the highest physical and spiritual +beauty. "_Come e bella, come e simpatica!_"[34] said he, looking up at +his Madonna. + +Inside the old church of Santa Maria del Carmine, close by, hundreds of +votive candles were burning before the altars, and night and day the +people flocked in there to implore the mighty Madonna's protection. +Mothers took the rings off their hands and hung them as sacred offerings +round the Madonna's neck, girls drew the strings of coral out of their +dark plaits to adorn the rich robe of the statue, and, with brows +pressed against the worn marble floor, strong men knelt, murmuring +prayers for help and mercy. + +Death dwelt in the slums of Naples. Three times the wonder-working image +of the Madonna del Carmine had been carried round the quarter in solemn +procession to protect the people of the Mercato from the dreaded plague, +and many miracles were reported of dying people brought back to life on +being permitted to kiss the hem of the garment of the blessed Maria del +Carmine. + +The doctor had seen Don Dionisio disappear into his little portico with +a disdainful shrug when the procession of Maria del Carmine passed by, +and he had more than once heard the old priest express his doubts about +the far-famed Madonna's wonder-working power to one gossip or another, +whom he had succeeded in stopping on her way to the church of the +Madonna. + +"What, after all, has your Madonna done for you, you people of Mercato?" +he called out mockingly. "If she is so powerful, why has she not saved +Naples from the cholera? And here, in the midst of her own quarter in +Mercato, whose inhabitants for centuries have knelt before her, what has +she done to prevent the disease spreading here? Do not people die every +day round her own sanctuary, round the very Piazza del Mercato, in spite +of all your prayers, in spite of all your votive candles? _Altro che la +Madonna del Carmine!_[35] + +"And as the cholera has never reached this side of the Piazza, and never +will reach it, whom do you suppose you have to thank for that, if not +the holy Madonna del Buon Cammino, who stretches her protecting hand +over you although you do not deserve it, although you leave her +sanctuary dark and take all your offerings to the other Madonnas, +whatever their names may be! And yet you cannot see in your blindness +that the blessed Madonna del Buon Cammino is far more powerful than all +your Madonnas put together! _Altro che la Madonna del Carmine!_" + +But no one seemed to take any heed of the old man's words, no votive +candles dispersed the darkness within the chapel of the blessed Madonna +del Buon Cammino, and no lips murmured her name in their prayers for +help and protection against the dreaded sickness. Had they not Santa +Maria del Carmine close by, who from all time had been the patron saint +of the quarter, who had helped them through so much distress, and +consoled them in so much misery? Was there not in her church that +miraculous crucifix out of whose pierced side blood trickled every Good +Friday, and whose hair the priests solemnly cut every Christmas,--that +same crucifix which had bowed its head to avoid the enemy's bullet, and +sent death to the besieger's camp and victory to Naples? And if the +Madonna del Carmine could not give sufficient protection to all of them +in these days of distress, had they not the venerable Madonna del +Colera, who saved their city in the year 1834 from the same sickness +which now raged amongst them? And in the Harbour quarter close by, did +not the Madonna del Porto Salvo stand in her sumptuous chapel dressed in +silk and gold brocade, ready to listen to their prayers? Was there not +to be found by the Banchi Nuovi the far-famed Madonna dell'Aiuto, who +would certainly not belie her name of Helper in the hour of need? Had +they not La Madonna dell'Addolorata with the mantle of solid silver and +the black velvet robe, whose folds no one had ever kissed without +gaining comfort and peace? Had they not La Madonna dell'Immacolata, +whose sky-blue garment was strewn with gold stars from the vault of +heaven itself? Had they not La Madonna di Salette in her purple skirt +dyed with the blood of martyrs? And did not San Gennaro himself stand in +his shining dome above,--he, the patron saint of Naples, whose congealed +blood flows anew every year,--he who protected the city of his care from +plague and famine, and commanded the flowing lava of Vesuvius to stop +before its gates? But La Madonna del Buon Cammino--who knew anything of +her? Who knew whence she came or who had seen with their own eyes a +single miracle worked by her hand? What kind of Madonna was that whose +shrine remained without candles or flowers, and whose mantle was in +rags? "_Non tiene neppure capelli, la vostra Madonna!_"[36] an old woman +had once shouted in Don Dionisio's face, to the great joy of the crowd. +The effect of this argument had been crushing, and Don Dionisio had +disappeared in great fury inside his portico, and had not been seen +again for several days. + +The doctor's road lay in that direction one evening, and he determined +to visit his old friend. From inside the chapel he heard Don Dionisio +with mighty voice singing an old Latin hymn in honour of his Madonna. + + "Consolatrix miserorum, + Suscitatrix mortuorum, + Mortis rumpe retia; + Intendentes tuae laudi, + Nos attende, nos exaudi, + Nos a morte libera!" + +He lifted the curtain before the door, and in the light of the little +oil-lamp he saw Don Dionisio on his knees before the image of his +Madonna, very busy brushing the cobwebs off an enormous old wig of an +indescribable colour. His anger had not yet subsided. "_Dicono che non +tiene capelli!_" he called out as soon as he caught sight of the doctor; +"_mo vogliamo vedere chi tieni i piu belli capelli!_"[37] And with a +triumphant glance at his visitor he placed the wig upon the bald head of +La Madonna del Buon Cammino. "_Come e bella, come e simpatica!_" said +he, with sparkling eyes, and he arranged as well as he could the +entangled curls round the forehead of the image. + +When the doctor went away Don Dionisio's anger had cooled, and again he +took up his position in the little portico in excellent spirits, quite +ready to fight both on the offensive and defensive for his Madonna's +sake. The same evening the doctor was told of a case of cholera in a +_fondaco_ close by the street in which Don Dionisio lived, and he went +to look at it early the next morning. In passing by he saw the old +fellow already at his post, rubbing his hands and looking very cheerful, +and the doctor had not the heart to tell him then that even the +protecting presence of his Madonna had now failed. But Don Dionisio +waved his hand eagerly as soon as he caught sight of the doctor, and +when he was still some distance he called out, so as to be heard +throughout the whole lane, "_Ecco il colera!_ See now what I have always +said! Here you have got it because you would not believe in La Madonna +del Buon Cammino; now you are all of you going to see what becomes of +those who believe more in the Madonna del Carmine than in her! _Ecco il +colera!_ in our very midst, _Ecco il colera!_" + +The lane was full of people, who in trembling terror had fled out of +their houses to pray in the churches and before the shrines at the +street corners, and some of them stopped irresolutely in front of the +chapel to listen to Don Dionisio's threatening prophecy of death to +every one who had dared to brave the anger of the blessed Madonna del +Buon Cammino. The _fondaco_ seemed quite empty, for as many as were +able had run away at the first alarm; but, guided by the sound of +praying voices, the doctor came at last to a dark hole, where the usual +sight met his eyes. Round the door some kneeling _commare_[38] in +earnest prayer; stretched out at full length upon the floor a mother +wringing her hands in despair; and in a corner the livid face of a +child, half-hidden under a heap of ragged coverings. The little girl was +quite cold, her eyelids half shut, and her pulse scarcely perceptible. +Now and again a convulsive trembling passed over her; but except for +that she lay there quite motionless and insensible--cholera! At the head +of the bed lay a picture of the Madonna del Carmine, and the doctor +gathered from the muttering of the women that the wonder-working Madonna +had been brought there the evening before. Now and then the mother +lifted her head and looked searchingly at the doctor, and it seemed to +him as if he could read something like confidence in her anguished eyes. +And yet it appeared as if he could do nothing. Ether-injections, +frictions, all the usual remedies proved fruitless to bring the warmth +of life back, and the pulse grew weaker and weaker. Again the doctor saw +to his surprise the same trusting expression in the mother's eyes when +she looked at him, and he determined to try his new remedy. He knew well +that in a case like this there was nothing to lose, for left to herself +the child was evidently dying; but for some time he had been pursued by +a wild idea that maybe there was everything still to gain. No one cared +any longer to watch what he did; the mother lay with her forehead +pressed against the floor, calling upon the Madonna with touching voice +to take her own life in exchange for the child's; and amongst the +_commare_ the prayers had ceased and in their place a lively discussion +broken out as to whether it would not be better to fetch some other +Madonna, since the Madonna del Carmine would not help them in spite of +all their prayers, in spite of the candles before her image, in spite of +the mother's promise to dress the child in the Madonna's colour for a +whole year, if only it might live. The child was quite insensible, and +everything was easily done. When all was finished the doctor slightly +touched the mother's shoulder, and whilst she stared at him, as if she +hardly understood his words, he said that there was no time to lose if +they wished to fetch another Madonna, and he suggested that they should +send for the holy Madonna del Buon Cammino, whose chapel was close by. A +deep silence followed his words, and it was plain that his suggestion +did not meet with the smallest sympathy. He pretended to take their +silence for consent, and with a little difficulty succeeded in +persuading one of the women, whom he knew well, to go to the chapel of +the Madonna del Buon Cammino. + +Don Dionisio came like a shot with his Madonna in his arms. He put the +little oil-lamp at the feet of the image, and began eagerly to sing the +hymn to the honour of his Madonna, now and then casting a furious glance +at the image of her powerful rival, before which the mother still lay +outstretched; whilst by the door the women were muttering all sorts of +opprobrious remarks about his idol: "_Vatene farti un'altra gonnella, +poverella! Benedetto San Gennaro, che brutta faccia che l'hanno dato, +povera vecchia!_"[39] + +Suddenly they became quite silent, and in breathless amazement they all +stared at the doctor's pale waxen assistant in his fight for the +child's life. For from the closely compressed lips of the dying girl a +subdued moan was heard, and the half-opened eyes turned slowly towards +the Madonna del Buon Cammino. All crossed themselves repeatedly; and the +doctor perceived the child's pulse grow stronger, and the warmth of life +slowly begin to spread over the icy limbs. The terror of death began to +glow in her eyes, and she cried with half-broken voice: "_Salvatemi! +Salvatemi! Madonna Sanctissima!_"[40] + +With a louder voice Don Dionisio began again his song of praise, and all +round him now murmured the name of the blessed Madonna del Buon Cammino. +Don Dionisio left the _fondaco_ about an hour afterwards, followed by a +procession of almost all its inhabitants. The child was then quite +conscious; and all agreed that the holy Madonna del Buon Cammino had +worked a miracle. + +The doctor sat for a good while longer at the child's side, watching +with the keenest interest the slow but sure return of its strength. Late +in the evening, when he looked in again, the improvement was so marked +that it was probable the child would live. Everywhere--in the _fondaco_ +and in the alleys around--nothing was talked of but the new miracle; and +when the doctor went home he saw for the first time lights shining in +the chapel of the Madonna del Buon Cammino. + +He did not sleep a wink that night, for he could not keep his thoughts +away from what he had witnessed in the morning, and he could hardly +restrain his impatience to meet with a fresh case on which to repeat the +experiment. + +He had not to wait long. The same night another woman in the _fondaco_ +was attacked, and when he saw her the next day she was already so bad +that it seemed as if she might die at any moment. His advice to fetch +the Madonna del Buon Cammino was taken now without hesitation, and +whilst everybody's attention was fixed upon Don Dionisio and his image, +the doctor could busy himself with his patient, undisturbed by any +suspicious and troublesome eyes. + +Here again a speedy and decided reaction set in, which became more and +more confirmed during the day; and that same evening the rumour spread +through the alleys of the Mercato of a second miracle by the +wonder-working Madonna del Buon Cammino. + +Thus began those strange never-to-be-forgotten days, when, insensible to +fatigue, yes! to hunger, the doctor went day and night from bed to bed, +borne as by strong wings of an idea which almost blinded his sight, and +made all his scepticism waver. He would come with Don Dionisio at his +heels to meet the usual sight of some poor half-dead creature for whom +it seemed as if human skill could do nothing, and when, an hour or two +later, the Madonna del Buon Cammino was carried away in solemn +procession, followed by the deepest devotion of the crowd, he would slip +out unnoticed, forgetful of everything, in silent wonder at the sudden +and constant improvement he had witnessed--an improvement which often +seemed like a rising from the dead. + +Ah! he had gone down there where it had seemed to him so easy to die, +just as easy as it had been to delude himself with the thought that he +had gone there only to help others. He had done very little for others, +but a good deal for himself--he had almost forgotten his own misery. His +experience of cholera was already wide enough, he knew about as much as +others knew. He knew that fate reigns over death as over life. Method +after method he had tried honestly and conscientiously, and he had +learnt that in spite of Koch, in spite of the microbes, his ignorance +was as great as ever when it came to the treatment of a cholera patient. +So he had wandered round the quarters of Naples with remedies in his +hands in which he did not believe himself, and words of encouragement +and confidence on his lips, but hopeless scepticism in his heart. + +And now this last experiment, so bold that he had almost shrunk from +trying it, which had resulted in an unbroken series of successes in the +midst of an epidemic with an enormous mortality! Once again he was a +doctor and nothing more. With redoubled zeal he followed every case, +scarcely for a minute did he leave his patient's side, and with +increasing excitement he watched every symptom, every detail, with his +former scepticism--and yet the fact remained, for a whole week not a +single fatal case! + +He had almost forgotten that Don Dionisio and the Madonna del Buon +Cammino followed his footsteps--he had forgotten them as he had +forgotten himself. Now and then his vacant eyes would fall upon the +unconscious assistant at his side, and he felt glad that he had been +able to give the old man a share in his success. Don Dionisio seemed to +need no more rest than the doctor, day and night he was going about with +his Madonna. His face shone with ecstasy, and he enjoyed to the full his +short happiness. + +The Madonna del Buon Cammino was now clothed in a flame-coloured silken +mantle, a diadem of showy glass beads encircled her brow, and round her +neck, strung upon a cord, hung numbers of rings and gold ear-rings. +Night and day votive candles were lighted in her chapel, and on the +walls, so naked before, hung _ex votos_ of all possible kinds, +thank-offerings for deliverance from sickness and death. The chapel was +always full of people, praying fervently on their knees for help from +that mighty Madonna who had performed so many miracles, and who +stretched out her protecting hand over the street. For, to his +amazement, the doctor had heard Don Dionisio prophesy that as long as +the lights burned in the chapel of the Madonna del Buon Cammino, the +cholera would never dare to approach her street. + +It was now that the poor people of Naples were to suffer their deepest +misery, that the infection, swift as fire, broke out all over the alleys +and slums of the four poor quarters. It was now that people fell down in +the street as if they had been struck by lightning; that the dying and +dead lay side by side in almost every house; that the omnibuses of +Portici, filled with the day's death-harvest, were driven every evening +up to the Campo Santo dei Colerosi,[41] where over a thousand corpses +every night filled the enormous grave. It was now that trembling hands +broke down the walls with which modern times had hidden the old shrines +at the street corners, that the people in wild fury stormed the Duomo to +force the priests to carry San Gennaro himself down to their alleys. It +was now that anxiety reached the borders of frenzy, that despair began +to howl like rage, that from trembling lips prayers and curses fell in +alternating confusion, that knives gleamed in hands which just before +had convulsively grasped rosary and crucifix. + +The doctor and his friend went on their way as before, undisturbed by +the increasing terrors which surrounded them. And wherever they went +Death gave way before them. The doctor needed all his self-control to +enable him still to maintain his doubts, and before his eyes he saw like +a mirage the goal which his daring dreams already reached. As for Don +Dionisio, no questioning doubt had ever awakened his slumbering freedom +of thought, and long ago the doctor had given up all attempts to +restrain the old fellow's joyous conviction of his victory. + +The epidemic had now reached its highest point, almost every house in +the quarter was infected, and still Don Dionisio's prophecy held good, +for not a single case had occurred in the street of the Madonna del Buon +Cammino. + +The doctor had been told by a _commare_ that in one of the _bassi_ in +Orto del Conte lay a dying woman, and that her husband had been +_avvelenato_[42] in the hospital the day before. He went there the same +evening, but it was with great difficulty that he succeeded in getting +through the hostile crowd which had assembled in front of the infected +house. He heard that the husband had been removed almost by force to +the hospital, that he had there died, and that when, a couple of hours +afterwards, they had tried to remove his wife too, who had been attacked +in the night, the people had opposed it, a _carabiniere_ had been +stabbed, and the others had had to save their lives by flight. As usual, +the unfortunate doctors bore the blame of all the evil, and he heard all +around him in the crowd the well-known epithets of "Ammazzacane!" +"Assassino!"[43] "Avvelenatore!"[44] After several fruitless efforts to +gain their confidence and make friends with them, he had no choice but +to give up all attempts of helping the sick woman and to wait till Don +Dionisio came. As soon as he entered the room the attention of every one +was at once fixed upon him and his Madonna, and they all fell on their +knees and prayed fervently, without caring in the least about either the +patient or the doctor. The woman was in _Stadium algidum_,[45] but her +pulse was still perceptible. Strong in the confidence of his previous +successes, the doctor went to work. He had hardly finished before the +heart began to flag. Just as Don Dionisio with triumphant voice +announced that the miracle was done, the death-agony began, and it was +with the greatest difficulty that the doctor could keep up the action of +the heart until the Madonna del Buon Cammino had left the house, +followed by the crowd outside in solemn procession. Shortly afterwards +the doctor slipped out of the house like a thief, and ran for his life +to the corner of the Via del Duomo, where he knew he would be in safety. + +The same night three of his patients died. He did his utmost to prevent +Don Dionisio accompanying him the following day, but in vain. Every one +of the sick he visited and treated that day died under his eyes. + +The wings which had borne him during those days had fallen from his +shoulders, and dead tired he wandered home in the evening with Don +Dionisio at his side. They said good-night to each other in front of the +chapel of the Madonna del Buon Cammino, and in the flickering light of +the lamp before her shrine the doctor saw a deathly pallor spread over +his friend's face. The old man tottered and fell, with the Madonna in +his arms. The doctor carried him into the chapel and laid him upon the +straw bed where he slept, in a corner behind a curtain. He placed the +Madonna del Buon Cammino carefully on her stand, and poured oil for the +night into the little lamp which burned over her head. Don Dionisio +motioned with his hand to be moved nearer, and the doctor dragged his +bed forward to the pedestal of the image. "_Come e bella, come e +simpatica!_" said he, with feeble voice. He lay there quite motionless +and silent, with his eyes intently fixed upon his beloved Madonna. The +doctor sat all night long by his side, whilst his strength diminished +more and more and he slowly grew cold. One votive candle after another +flickered and went out, and the shadows fell deeper and deeper in the +chapel of the Madonna del Buon Cammino. Then it became all dark, and +only the little oil-lamp as of old spread its trembling light over the +pale waxen image with the impassive smile upon her rigid features. + +The next day the doctor fainted in the street, and was picked up and +taken to the Cholera Hospital. And, indomitable as fate, death swept +over the street of the Madonna del Buon Cammino, over Vicolo del Monaco. +For it was Vicolo del Monaco--that name which filled Naples with terror, +and which, through the newspapers, was known to the whole world as the +place where the cholera raged in its fiercest form.[46] + + * * * * * + +The dark little chapel which sheltered the old visionary's confused +devotion has been razed to the ground by the new order of things which +has dawned over Naples at last, and Vicolo del Monaco is no more. Don +Dionisio sank unconscious from the dim thought-world of his superstition +into the impenetrable darkness of the great grave up there on the Campo +Santo dei Colerosi. + +The other, the fool, who for a moment had believed he could command +Death to stop short in his triumphant march, he is still alive, but with +the bitter vision of reality for all time shadowing his sight. So will +he sink, he also, into the great grave of oblivion; and of all those +who lived and suffered in the Vicolo del Monaco nothing will +remain--nothing. + +But behind a curtain in some dark little chapel stands the Madonna del +Buon Cammino, with the impassive smile upon her rigid features. + +[Footnote 34: "How beautiful, how sympathetic she is!"] + +[Footnote 35: "Madonna del Carmine indeed!"] + +[Footnote 36: "Your Madonna has not even got any hair on her head!"] + +[Footnote 37: "They say she has got no hair! but we shall soon see who +has the most beautiful hair!"] + +[Footnote 38: Gossips.] + +[Footnote 39: "Go and make thyself another gown, poor thing! Blessed San +Gennaro, what an ugly face they have given her, poor old creature!"] + +[Footnote 40: "Save me, save me, most holy Madonna!"] + +[Footnote 41: Cholera cemetery.] + +[Footnote 42: Poisoned.] + +[Footnote 43: "Dog-murderer!" "Assassin!"] + +[Footnote 44: "Poisoner!"] + +[Footnote 45: The state of collapse, characteristic of cholera, when the +body becomes cold.] + +[Footnote 46: Almost the whole alley died. An official report stated +that there were over thirty cases in a single hour.] + + + THE END + + + _Printed by_ R. & R. Clark, Limited, _Edinburgh_ + + + =Transcriber's Notes:= + - hyphenation, spelling and grammar have been preserved as in the + original (other than as listed below) + - Italian and Neapolitan sentences have been preserved as in the + original (other than as listed below) + Page 72, straight down there?' ==> straight down there?" + Page 158, foremost to defend.' ==> foremost to defend." + Page 186, et de Mise en Scene ==> et de Mise en Scene + Page 251, Don Petrucchio's Farmacia ==> Don Petruccio's Farmacia + Page 293, un altra gonnella ==> un'altra gonnella + Page 303, give up all attemps ==> give up all attempts + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Vagaries, by Axel Munthe + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK VAGARIES *** + +***** This file should be named 38894.txt or 38894.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + https://www.gutenberg.org/3/8/8/9/38894/ + +Produced by Barbara Watson, Ross Cooling and the Online +Distributed Proofreading Canada Team at +http://www.pgdpcanada.net (This file was produced from +images generously made available by The Internet +Archive/Canadian Libraries) + + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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