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of my teeth and gums； my double teeth； my single teeth； my stopped
teeth； and my sound。 In this Arcadian rest； I am fearless of him
as of a harmless； powerless creature in a Scotch cap； who adores a
young lady in a voluminous crinoline； at a neighbouring billiard…
room； and whose passion would be uninfluenced if every one of her
teeth were false。 They may be。 He takes them all on trust。
In secluded corners of the place of my seclusion； there are little
shops withdrawn from public curiosity； and never two together；
where servants' perquisites are bought。 The cook may dispose of
grease at these modest and convenient marts； the butler； of
bottles； the valet and lady's maid； of clothes； most servants；
indeed； of most things they may happen to lay hold of。 I have been
told that in sterner times loving correspondence； otherwise
interdicted； may be maintained by letter through the agency of some
of these useful establishments。 In the Arcadian autumn； no such
device is necessary。 Everybody loves； and openly and blamelessly
loves。 My landlord's young man loves the whole of one side of the
way of Old Bond…street； and is beloved several doors up New Bond…
street besides。 I never look out of window but I see kissing of
hands going on all around me。 It is the morning custom to glide
from shop to shop and exchange tender sentiments； it is the evening
custom for couples to stand hand in hand at house doors； or roam；
linked in that flowery manner； through the unpeopled streets。
There is nothing else to do but love； and what there is to do； is
done。
In unison with this pursuit； a chaste simplicity obtains in the
domestic habits of Arcadia。 Its few scattered people dine early；
live moderately； sup socially； and sleep soundly。 It is rumoured
that the Beadles of the Arcade； from being the mortal enemies of
boys； have signed with tears an address to Lord Shaftesbury； and
subscribed to a ragged school。 No wonder！ For； they might turn
their heavy maces into crooks and tend sheep in the Arcade； to the
purling of the water…carts as they give the thirsty streets much
more to drink than they can carry。
A happy Golden Age； and a serene tranquillity。 Charming picture；
but it will fade。 The iron age will return； London will come back
to town； if I show my tongue then in Saville…row for half a minute
I shall be prescribed for； the Doctor's man and the Dentist's man
will then pretend that these days of unprofessional innocence never
existed。 Where Mr。 and Mrs。 Klem and their bed will be at that
time； passes human knowledge； but my hatter hermitage will then
know them no more； nor will it then know me。 The desk at which I
have written these meditations will retributively assist at the
making out of my account； and the wheels of gorgeous carriages and
the hoofs of high…stepping horses will crush the silence out of
Bond…street … will grind Arcadia away； and give it to the elements
in granite powder。
CHAPTER XVII … THE ITALIAN PRISONER
The rising of the Italian people from under their unutterable
wrongs； and the tardy burst of day upon them after the long long
night of oppression that has darkened their beautiful country； have
naturally caused my mind to dwell often of late on my own small
wanderings in Italy。 Connected with them； is a curious little
drama； in which the character I myself sustained was so very
subordinate that I may relate its story without any fear of being
suspected of self…display。 It is strictly a true story。
I am newly arrived one summer evening； in a certain small town on
the Mediterranean。 I have had my dinner at the inn； and I and the
mosquitoes are coming out into the streets together。 It is far
from Naples； but a bright； brown； plump little woman…servant at the
inn； is a Neapolitan； and is so vivaciously expert in panto…mimic
action； that in the single moment of answering my request to have a
pair of shoes cleaned which I have left up…stairs； she plies
imaginary brushes； and goes completely through the motions of
polishing the shoes up； and laying them at my feet。 I smile at the
brisk little woman in perfect satisfaction with her briskness； and
the brisk little woman； amiably pleased with me because I am
pleased with her； claps her hands and laughs delightfully。 We are
in the inn yard。 As the little woman's bright eyes sparkle on the
cigarette I am smoking； I make bold to offer her one； she accepts
it none the less merrily； because I touch a most charming little
dimple in her fat cheek； with its light paper end。 Glancing up at
the many green lattices to assure herself that the mistress is not
looking on； the little woman then puts her two little dimple arms
a…kimbo； and stands on tiptoe to light her cigarette at mine。 'And
now； dear little sir；' says she； puffing out smoke in a most
innocent and cherubic manner； 'keep quite straight on； take the
first to the right and probably you will see him standing at his
door。'
I gave a commission to 'him；' and I have been inquiring about him。
I have carried the commission about Italy several months。 Before I
left England； there came to me one night a certain generous and
gentle English nobleman （he is dead in these days when I relate the
story； and exiles have lost their best British friend）； with this
request： 'Whenever you come to such a town； will you seek out one
Giovanni Carlavero； who keeps a little wine…shop there； mention my
name to him suddenly； and observe how it affects him？' I accepted
the trust； and am on my way to discharge it。
The sirocco has been blowing all day； and it is a hot unwholesome
evening with no cool sea…breeze。 Mosquitoes and fire…flies are
lively enough； but most other creatures are faint。 The coquettish
airs of pretty young women in the tiniest and wickedest of dolls'
straw hats； who lean out at opened lattice blinds； are almost the
only airs stirring。 Very ugly and haggard old women with distaffs；
and with a grey tow upon them that looks as if they were spinning
out their own hair （I suppose they were once pretty； too； but it is
very difficult to believe so）； sit on the footway leaning against
house walls。 Everybody who has come for water to the fountain；
stays there； and seems incapable of any such energetic idea as
going home。 Vespers are over； though not so long but that I can
smell the heavy resinous incense as I pass the church。 No man
seems to be at work； save the coppersmith。 In an Italian town he
is always at work； and always thumping in the deadliest manner。
I keep straight on； and come in due time to the first on the right：
a narrow dull street； where I see a well…favoured man of good
stature and military bearing； in a great cloak； standing at a door。
Drawing nearer to this threshold； I see it is the threshold of a
small wine…shop； and I can just make out； in the dim light； the
inscription that it is kept by Giovanni Carlavero。
I touch my hat to the figure in the cloak； and pass in； and draw a
stool to a little table。 The lamp （just such another as they dig
out of Pompeii） is lighted； but the place is empty。 The figure in
the cloak has followed me in； and stands before me。
'The master？'
'At your service； sir。'
'Please to give me a glass of the wine of the country。'
He turns to a little counter； to get it。 As his striking face is
pale； and his action is evidently that of an enfeebled man； I
remark that I fear he has been ill。 It is not much； he courteously
and gravely answers； though bad while it lasts： the fever。
As he sets the wine on the little table； to his manifest surprise I
lay my hand on the back of his； look him in the face； and say in a
low voice： 'I am an Englishman； and you are acquainted with a
friend of mine。 Do you recollect … ？' and I mentioned the name of
my generous countryman。
Instantly； he utters a loud cry； bursts into tears； and falls on
his knees at my feet； clasping my legs in both his arms and bowing
his head to the ground。
Some years ago； this man at my feet； whose over…fraught heart is
heaving as if it would burst from his breast； and whose tears are
wet upon the dress I wear； was a galley…slave in the North of
Italy。 He was a political offender； having been concerned in the
then last rising； and was sentenced to imprisonment for life。 That
he would have died in his chains； is certain； but for the
circumstance that the Englishman happened to visit his prison。
It was one of the vile old prisons of Italy； and a part of it was
below the waters of the harbour。 The place of his confinement was
an arched under…ground and under…water gallery； with a grill…gate
at the entrance； through which it received such light and air as it
got。 Its condition was insufferably foul； and a stranger could
hardly breathe in it； or see in it with the aid of a torch。 At the
upper end of this dungeon； and consequently