the uncommercial traveller-第41部分

快捷操作: 按键盘上方向键 ← 或 → 可快速上下翻页 按键盘上的 Enter 键可回到本书目录页 按键盘上方向键 ↑ 可回到本页顶部! 如果本书没有阅读完，想下次继续接着阅读，可使用上方 "收藏到我的浏览器" 功能 和 "加入书签" 功能！



made　no　sign；　and　never　once　'took　on'　in　any　way；　to　have　the

subject　on　his　mind。　　The　Englishman　was　then　obliged　to　change　his

residence　to　another　and　more　famous　town　in　the　North　of　Italy。

He　parted　from　the　poor　prisoner　with　a　sorrowful　heart；　as　from　a

doomed　man　for　whom　there　was　no　release　but　Death。



The　Englishman　lived　in　his　new　place　of　abode　another　half…year

and　more；　and　had　no　tidings　of　the　wretched　prisoner。　　At　length；

one　day；　he　received　from　the　Advocate　a　cool；　concise；　mysterious

note；　to　this　effect。　　'If　you　still　wish　to　bestow　that　benefit

upon　the　man　in　whom　you　were　once　interested；　send　me　fifty　pounds

more；　and　I　think　it　can　be　ensured。'　　Now；　the　Englishman　had　long

settled　in　his　mind　that　the　Advocate　was　a　heartless　sharper；　who

had　preyed　upon　his　credulity　and　his　interest　in　an　unfortunate

sufferer。　　So；　he　sat　down　and　wrote　a　dry　answer；　giving　the

Advocate　to　understand　that　he　was　wiser　now　than　he　had　been

formerly；　and　that　no　more　money　was　extractable　from　his　pocket。



He　lived　outside　the　city　gates；　some　mile　or　two　from　the　post…

office；　and　was　accustomed　to　walk　into　the　city　with　his　letters

and　post　them　himself。　　On　a　lovely　spring　day；　when　the　sky　was

exquisitely　blue；　and　the　sea　Divinely　beautiful；　he　took　his　usual

walk；　carrying　this　letter　to　the　Advocate　in　his　pocket。　　As　he

went　along；　his　gentle　heart　was　much　moved　by　the　loveliness　of

the　prospect；　and　by　the　thought　of　the　slowly　dying　prisoner

chained　to　the　bedstead；　for　whom　the　universe　had　no　delights。　　As

he　drew　nearer　and　nearer　to　the　city　where　he　was　to　post　the

letter；　he　became　very　uneasy　in　his　mind。　　He　debated　with

himself；　was　it　remotely　possible；　after　all；　that　this　sum　of

fifty　pounds　could　restore　the　fellow…creature　whom　he　pitied　so

much；　and　for　whom　he　had　striven　so　hard；　to　liberty？　　He　was　not

a　conventionally　rich　Englishman　…　very　far　from　that　…　but；　he　had

a　spare　fifty　pounds　at　the　banker's。　　He　resolved　to　risk　it。

Without　doubt；　GOD　has　recompensed　him　for　the　resolution。



He　went　to　the　banker's；　and　got　a　bill　for　the　amount；　and

enclosed　it　in　a　letter　to　the　Advocate　that　I　wish　I　could　have

seen。　　He　simply　told　the　Advocate　that　he　was　quite　a　poor　man；

and　that　he　was　sensible　it　might　be　a　great　weakness　in　him　to

part　with　so　much　money　on　the　faith　of　so　vague　a　communication；

but；　that　there　it　was；　and　that　he　prayed　the　Advocate　to　make　a

good　use　of　it。　　If　he　did　otherwise　no　good　could　ever　come　of　it；

and　it　would　lie　heavy　on　his　soul　one　day。



Within　a　week；　the　Englishman　was　sitting　at　his　breakfast；　when　he

heard　some　suppressed　sounds　of　agitation　on　the　staircase；　and

Giovanni　Carlavero　leaped　into　the　room　and　fell　upon　his　breast；　a

free　man！



Conscious　of　having　wronged　the　Advocate　in　his　own　thoughts；　the

Englishman　wrote　him　an　earnest　and　grateful　letter；　avowing　the

fact；　and　entreating　him　to　confide　by　what　means　and　through　what

agency　he　had　succeeded　so　well。　　The　Advocate　returned　for　answer

through　the　post；　'There　are　many　things；　as　you　know；　in　this

Italy　of　ours；　that　are　safest　and　best　not　even　spoken　of　…　far

less　written　of。　　We　may　meet　some　day；　and　then　I　may　tell　you

what　you　want　to　know；　not　here；　and　now。'　　But；　the　two　never　did

meet　again。　　The　Advocate　was　dead　when　the　Englishman　gave　me　my

trust；　and　how　the　man　had　been　set　free；　remained　as　great　a

mystery　to　the　Englishman；　and　to　the　man　himself；　as　it　was　to　me。



But；　I　knew　this：…　here　was　the　man；　this　sultry　night；　on　his

knees　at　my　feet；　because　I　was　the　Englishman's　friend；　here　were

his　tears　upon　my　dress；　here　were　his　sobs　choking　his　utterance；

here　were　his　kisses　on　my　hands；　because　they　had　touched　the

hands　that　had　worked　out　his　release。　　He　had　no　need　to　tell　me

it　would　be　happiness　to　him　to　die　for　his　benefactor；　I　doubt　if

I　ever　saw　real；　sterling；　fervent　gratitude　of　soul；　before　or

since。



He　was　much　watched　and　suspected；　he　said；　and　had　had　enough　to

do　to　keep　himself　out　of　trouble。　　This；　and　his　not　having

prospered　in　his　worldly　affairs；　had　led　to　his　having　failed　in

his　usual　communications　to　the　Englishman　for　…　as　I　now　remember

the　period　…　some　two　or　three　years。　　But；　his　prospects　were

brighter；　and　his　wife　who　had　been　very　ill　had　recovered；　and　his

fever　had　left　him；　and　he　had　bought　a　little　vineyard；　and　would

I　carry　to　his　benefactor　the　first　of　its　wine？　　Ay；　that　I　would

（I　told　him　with　enthusiasm）；　and　not　a　drop　of　it　should　be

spilled　or　lost！



He　had　cautiously　closed　the　door　before　speaking　of　himself；　and

had　talked　with　such　excess　of　emotion；　and　in　a　provincial　Italian

so　difficult　to　understand；　that　I　had　more　than　once　been　obliged

to　stop　him；　and　beg　him　to　have　compassion　on　me　and　be　slower　and

calmer。　　By　degrees　he　became　so；　and　tranquilly　walked　back　with

me　to　the　hotel。　　There；　I　sat　down　before　I　went　to　bed　and　wrote

a　faithful　account　of　him　to　the　Englishman：　　which　I　concluded　by

saying　that　I　would　bring　the　wine　home；　against　any　difficulties；

every　drop。



Early　next　morning；　when　I　came　out　at　the　hotel　door　to　pursue　my

journey；　I　found　my　friend　waiting　with　one　of　those　immense

bottles　in　which　the　Italian　peasants　store　their　wine　…　a　bottle

holding　some　half…dozen　gallons　…　bound　round　with　basket…work　for

greater　safety　on　the　journey。　　I　see　him　now；　in　the　bright

sunshine；　tears　of　gratitude　in　his　eyes；　proudly　inviting　my

attention　to　this　corpulent　bottle。　　（At　the　street…comer　hard　by；

two　high…flavoured；　able…bodied　monks　…　pretending　to　talk

together；　but　keeping　their　four　evil　eyes　upon　us。）



How　the　bottle　had　been　got　there；　did　not　appear；　but　the

difficulty　of　getting　it　into　the　ramshackle　vetturino　carriage　in

which　I　was　departing；　was　so　great；　and　it　took　up　so　much　room

when　it　was　got　in；　that　I　elected　to　sit　outside。　　The　last　I　saw

of　Giovanni　Carlavero　was　his　running　through　the　town　by　the　side

of　the　jingling　wheels；　clasping　my　hand　as　I　stretched　it　down

from　the　box；　charging　me　with　a　thousand　last　loving　and　dutiful

messages　to　his　dear　patron；　and　finally　looking　in　at　the　bottle

as　it　reposed　inside；　with　an　admiration　of　its　honourable　way　of

travelling　that　was　beyond　measure　delightful。



And　now；　what　disquiet　of　mind　this　dearly…beloved　and　highly…

treasured　Bottle　began　to　cost　me；　no　man　knows。　　It　was　my

precious　charge　through　a　long　tour；　and；　for　hundreds　of　miles；　I

never　had　it　off　my　mind　by　day　or　by　night。　　Over　bad　roads　…　and

they　were　many　…　I　clung　to　it　with　affectionate　desperation。　　Up

mountains；　I　looked　in　at　it　and　saw　it　helplessly　tilting　over　on

its　back；　with　terror。　　At　innumerable　inn　doors　when　the　weather

was　bad；　I　was　obliged　to　be　put　into　my　vehicle　before　the　Bottle

could　be　got　in；　and　was　obliged　to　have　the　Bottle　lifted　out

before　human　aid　could　come　near　me。　　The　Imp　of　the　same　name；

except　that　his　associations　were　all　evil　and　these　associations

were　all　good；　would　have　been　a　less　troublesome　travelling

companion。　　I　might　have　served　Mr。　Cruikshank　as　a　subject　for　a

new　illustration　of　the　miseries　of　the　Bottle。　　The　National

Temperance　Society　might　have　made　a　powerful　Tract　of　me。



The　suspicions　that　attached　to　this　innocent　Bottle；　greatly

aggravated　my　difficulties。　　It　was　like　the　apple…pie　in　the

child's　book。　　Parma　pouted　at　it；　Modena　mocked　it；　Tuscany

tackled　it；　Naples　nibbled　it；　Rome　refused　it；　Austria　accused　it；

Soldiers　suspected　it；　Jesuits　jobbed　it。　　I　composed　a　neat

Oration；　developing　my　inoffensive　intentions　in　connexion　with

this　Bottle；　and　delivered　it　in　an　infinity　of　guard…houses；　at　a

multitude　of　town　gates；　and　on　every　drawbridge；　angle；　and

rampart；　of　a　complete　system　of　fortifications。　　Fifty　times　a

day；　I　got　down　to　harangue　an　infuriated　soldiery　about　the

Bottle。　　Through　the　filthy　degradation　of　the　abject　and　vile

Roman　States；　I　had　as　much　difficulty　in　working　my　way　with　the

Bottle；　as　if　it　had　bottled　up　a　complete　system　of　heretical

theology。　　In　the　Neapolitan　country；　where　everybody　was　a　spy；　a

soldier；　a　priest；　or　a　lazzarone；　the　shameless　beggars　of　all

four　denominations　incessantly　pounced　on　the　Bottle　and　made　it　a

pretext　for　extorting　money　from　me。　　Quires　…　quires　do　I　say？

Reams　…　of　forms　illegibly　printed　on　whity…brown　paper　were　filled

up　about　the　Bottle；　and　it　was　the　subject　of　more　stamping　and

sanding　than　I　had　ever　seen　before。　　In　consequence　of　which　haze

of　sand；　perhaps；　it　was　always　irregular；　and　always　latent　with

dismal　penalties　of　going　back　or　not　going　forward；　which　were

only　to　be　abated　by　the　silver　crossing　of　a　base　hand；　poked

shirtless　out　of　a　ragged　uniform　sleeve。　　Under　all

discouragements；　however；　I　stuck　to　my　Bottle；　and　held　firm　to　my

resolution　that　every　drop　of　its　contents　should　reach　the

Bottle's　destination。



The　latter　refinement　cost　me　a　separate　heap　of　troubles　on　its

own　separate　account。　　What　corkscrews　did　I　see　the　military　power

bring　out　against　that　Bottle；　what　gimlets；　spikes；　divining　rods；

gauges；　and　unknown　tests　and　instruments！　　At　some　places；　they

persisted　in　declaring　that　the　wine　must　not　be　passed；　without

being　opened　and　tasted；　I；　pleading　to　the　contrary；　used　then　to

argue　the　question　seated　on　the　Bottle　lest　they　should　open　it　in

spite　of　me。　　In　the　southern　parts　of　Italy　more　violent

shrieking；　face…making；　and　gesticulating；　greater　vehemence　of

speech　and　countenance　and　action；　went　on　about　that　Bottle　than

would　attend　fifty　murders　in　a　northern　latitude。　　It　raised

important　functionaries　out　of　their　beds；　in　the　dead　of　night。　　I

have　known　half…a…dozen　military　lanterns　to　disperse　themselves　at

all　points　o