the uncommercial traveller- 第15部分

as　on　a　burning…glass；　I　felt　that　now；　indeed；　I　was　in　the　dear

old　France　of　my　affections。　　I　should　have　known　it；　without　the

well…remembered　bottle　of　rough　ordinary　wine；　the　cold　roast　fowl；

the　loaf；　and　the　pinch　of　salt；　on　which　I　lunched　with

unspeakable　satisfaction；　from　one　of　the　stuffed　pockets　of　the

chariot。



I　must　have　fallen　asleep　after　lunch；　for　when　a　bright　face

looked　in　at　the　window；　I　started；　and　said：



'Good　God；　Louis；　I　dreamed　you　were　dead！'



My　cheerful　servant　laughed；　and　answered：



'Me？　　Not　at　all；　sir。'



'How　glad　I　am　to　wake！　　What　are　we　doing　Louis？'



'We　go　to　take　relay　of　horses。　　Will　you　walk　up　the　hill？'



'Certainly。'



Welcome　the　old　French　hill；　with　the　old　French　lunatic　（not　in

the　most　distant　degree　related　to　Sterne's　Maria）　living　in　a

thatched　dog…kennel　half…way　up；　and　flying　out　with　his　crutch　and

his　big　head　and　extended　nightcap；　to　be　beforehand　with　the　old

men　and　women　exhibiting　crippled　children；　and　with　the　children

exhibiting　old　men　and　women；　ugly　and　blind；　who　always　seemed　by

resurrectionary　process　to　be　recalled　out　of　the　elements　for　the

sudden　peopling　of　the　solitude！



'It　is　well；'　said　I；　scattering　among　them　what　small　coin　I　had；

'here　comes　Louis；　and　I　am　quite　roused　from　my　nap。'



We　journeyed　on　again；　and　I　welcomed　every　new　assurance　that

France　stood　where　I　had　left　it。　　There　were　the　posting…houses；

with　their　archways；　dirty　stable…yards；　and　clean　post…masters'

wives；　bright　women　of　business；　looking　on　at　the　putting…to　of

the　horses；　there　were　the　postilions　counting　what　money　they　got；

into　their　hats；　and　never　making　enough　of　it；　there　were　the

standard　population　of　grey　horses　of　Flanders　descent；　invariably

biting　one　another　when　they　got　a　chance；　there　were　the　fleecy

sheepskins；　looped　on　over　their　uniforms　by　the　postilions；　like

bibbed　aprons　when　it　blew　and　rained；　there　were　their　Jack…boots；

and　their　cracking　whips；　there　were　the　cathedrals　that　I　got　out

to　see；　as　under　some　cruel　bondage；　in　no　wise　desiring　to　see

them；　there　were　the　little　towns　that　appeared　to　have　no　reason

for　being　towns；　since　most　of　their　houses　were　to　let　and　nobody

could　be　induced　to　look　at　them；　except　the　people　who　couldn't

let　them　and　had　nothing　else　to　do　but　look　at　them　all　day。　　I

lay　a　night　upon　the　road　and　enjoyed　delectable　cookery　of

potatoes；　and　some　other　sensible　things；　adoption　of　which　at　home

would　inevitably　be　shown　to　be　fraught　with　ruin；　somehow　or

other；　to　that　rickety　national　blessing；　the　British　farmer；　and

at　last　I　was　rattled；　like　a　single　pill　in　a　box；　over　leagues　of

stones；　until　…　madly　cracking；　plunging；　and　flourishing　two　grey

tails　about　…　I　made　my　triumphal　entry　into　Paris。



At　Paris；　I　took　an　upper　apartment　for　a　few　days　in　one　of　the

hotels　of　the　Rue　de　Rivoli；　my　front　windows　looking　into　the

garden　of　the　Tuileries　（where　the　principal　difference　between　the

nursemaids　and　the　flowers　seemed　to　be　that　the　former　were

locomotive　and　the　latter　not）：　　my　back　windows　looking　at　all　the

other　back　windows　in　the　hotel；　and　deep　down　into　a　paved　yard；

where　my　German　chariot　had　retired　under　a　tight…fitting　archway；

to　all　appearance　for　life；　and　where　bells　rang　all　day　without

anybody's　minding　them　but　certain　chamberlains　with　feather　brooms

and　green　baize　caps；　who　here　and　there　leaned　out　of　some　high

window　placidly　looking　down；　and　where　neat　waiters　with　trays　on

their　left　shoulders　passed　and　repassed　from　morning　to　night。



Whenever　I　am　at　Paris；　I　am　dragged　by　invisible　force　into　the

Morgue。　　I　never　want　to　go　there；　but　am　always　pulled　there。　　One

Christmas　Day；　when　I　would　rather　have　been　anywhere　else；　I　was

attracted　in；　to　see　an　old　grey　man　lying　all　alone　on　his　cold

bed；　with　a　tap　of　water　turned　on　over　his　grey　hair；　and　running；

drip；　drip；　drip；　down　his　wretched　face　until　it　got　to　the　corner

of　his　mouth；　where　it　took　a　turn；　and　made　him　look　sly。　　One　New

Year's　Morning　（by　the　same　token；　the　sun　was　shining　outside；　and

there　was　a　mountebank　balancing　a　feather　on　his　nose；　within　a

yard　of　the　gate）；　I　was　pulled　in　again　to　look　at　a　flaxen…haired

boy　of　eighteen；　with　a　heart　hanging　on　his　breast　…　'from　his

mother；'　was　engraven　on　it　…　who　had　come　into　the　net　across　the

river；　with　a　bullet　wound　in　his　fair　forehead　and　his　hands　cut

with　a　knife；　but　whence　or　how　was　a　blank　mystery。　　This　time；　I

was　forced　into　the　same　dread　place；　to　see　a　large　dark　man　whose

disfigurement　by　water　was　in　a　frightful　manner　comic；　and　whose

expression　was　that　of　a　prize…fighter　who　had　closed　his　eyelids

under　a　heavy　blow；　but　was　going　immediately　to　open　them；　shake

his　head；　and　'come　up　smiling。'　　Oh　what　this　large　dark　man　cost

me　in　that　bright　city！



It　was　very　hot　weather；　and　he　was　none　the　better　for　that；　and　I

was　much　the　worse。　　Indeed；　a　very　neat　and　pleasant　little　woman

with　the　key　of　her　lodging　on　her　forefinger；　who　had　been　showing

him　to　her　little　girl　while　she　and　the　child　ate　sweetmeats；

observed　monsieur　looking　poorly　as　we　came　out　together；　and　asked

monsieur；　with　her　wondering　little　eyebrows　prettily　raised；　if

there　were　anything　the　matter？　　Faintly　replying　in　the　negative；

monsieur　crossed　the　road　to　a　wine…shop；　got　some　brandy；　and

resolved　to　freshen　himself　with　a　dip　in　the　great　floating　bath

on　the　river。



The　bath　was　crowded　in　the　usual　airy　manner；　by　a　male　population

in　striped　drawers　of　various　gay　colours；　who　walked　up　and　down

arm　in　arm；　drank　coffee；　smoked　cigars；　sat　at　little　tables；

conversed　politely　with　the　damsels　who　dispensed　the　towels；　and

every　now　and　then　pitched　themselves　into　the　river　head　foremost；

and　came　out　again　to　repeat　this　social　routine。　　I　made　haste　to

participate　in　the　water　part　of　the　entertainments；　and　was　in　the

full　enjoyment　of　a　delightful　bath；　when　all　in　a　moment　I　was

seized　with　an　unreasonable　idea　that　the　large　dark　body　was

floating　straight　at　me。



I　was　out　of　the　river；　and　dressing　instantly。　　In　the　shock　I　had

taken　some　water　into　my　mouth；　and　it　turned　me　sick；　for　I

fancied　that　the　contamination　of　the　creature　was　in　it。　　I　had

got　back　to　my　cool　darkened　room　in　the　hotel；　and　was　lying　on　a

sofa　there；　before　I　began　to　reason　with　myself。



Of　course；　I　knew　perfectly　well　that　the　large　dark　creature　was

stone　dead；　and　that　I　should　no　more　come　upon　him　out　of　the

place　where　I　had　seen　him　dead；　than　I　should　come　upon　the

cathedral　of　Notre…Dame　in　an　entirely　new　situation。　　What

troubled　me　was　the　picture　of　the　creature；　and　that　had　so

curiously　and　strongly　painted　itself　upon　my　brain；　that　I　could

not　get　rid　of　it　until　it　was　worn　out。



I　noticed　the　peculiarities　of　this　possession；　while　it　was　a　real

discomfort　to　me。　　That　very　day；　at　dinner；　some　morsel　on　my

plate　looked　like　a　piece　of　him；　and　I　was　glad　to　get　up　and　go

out。　　Later　in　the　evening；　I　was　walking　along　the　Rue　St。　Honore；

when　I　saw　a　bill　at　a　public　room　there；　announcing　small…sword

exercise；　broad…sword　exercise；　wrestling；　and　other　such　feats。　　I

went　in；　and　some　of　the　sword…play　being　very　skilful；　remained。

A　specimen　of　our　own　national　sport；　The　British　Boaxe；　was

announced　to　be　given　at　the　close　of　the　evening。　　In　an　evil

hour；　I　determined　to　wait　for　this　Boaxe；　as　became　a　Briton。　　It

was　a　clumsy　specimen　（executed　by　two　English　grooms　out　of

place）；　but　one　of　the　combatants；　receiving　a　straight　right…

hander　with　the　glove　between　his　eyes；　did　exactly　what　the　large

dark　creature　in　the　Morgue　had　seemed　going　to　do　…　and　finished

me　for　that　night。



There　was　rather　a　sickly　smell　（not　at　all　an　unusual　fragrance　in

Paris）　in　the　little　ante…room　of　my　apartment　at　the　hotel。　　The

large　dark　creature　in　the　Morgue　was　by　no　direct　experience

associated　with　my　sense　of　smell；　because；　when　I　came　to　the

knowledge　of　him；　he　lay　behind　a　wall　of　thick　plate…glass　as　good

as　a　wall　of　steel　or　marble　for　that　matter。　　Yet　the　whiff　of　the

room　never　failed　to　reproduce　him。　　What　was　more　curious；　was　the

capriciousness　with　which　his　portrait　seemed　to　light　itself　up　in

my　mind；　elsewhere。　　I　might　be　walking　in　the　Palais　Royal；　lazily

enjoying　the　shop　windows；　and　might　be　regaling　myself　with　one　of

the　ready…made　clothes　shops　that　are　set　out　there。　　My　eyes；

wandering　over　impossible…waisted　dressing…gowns　and　luminous

waistcoats；　would　fall　upon　the　master；　or　the　shopman；　or　even　the

very　dummy　at　the　door；　and　would　suggest　to　me；　'Something　like

him！'　…　and　instantly　I　was　sickened　again。



This　would　happen　at　the　theatre；　in　the　same　manner。　　Often　it

would　happen　in　the　street；　when　I　certainly　was　not　looking　for

the　likeness；　and　when　probably　there　was　no　likeness　there。　　It

was　not　because　the　creature　was　dead　that　I　was　so　haunted；

because　I　know　that　I　might　have　been　（and　I　know　it　because　I　have

been）　equally　attended　by　the　image　of　a　living　aversion。　　This

lasted　about　a　week。　　The　picture　did　not　fade　by　degrees；　in　the

sense　that　it　became　a　whit　less　forcible　and　distinct；　but　in　the

sense　that　it　obtruded　itself　less　and　less　frequently。　　The

experience　may　be　worth　considering　by　some　who　have　the　care　of

children。　　It　would　be　difficult　to　overstate　the　intensity　and

accuracy　of　an　intelligent　child's　observation。　　At　that

impressible　time　of　life；　it　must　sometimes　produce　a　fixed

impression。　　If　the　fixed　impression　be　of　an　object　terrible　to

the　child；　it　will　be　（for　want　of　reasoning　upon）　inseparable　from

great　fear。　　Force　the　child　at　such　a　time；　be　Spartan　with　it；

send　it　into　the　dark　against　its　will；　leave　it