Cornelius O'Dowd Upon Men And Women And Other Things In General Part 6

"Here he comes again. Only look at the misery in the fellow's face! and you see he has his orders evidently enough; and he dare not hurry me. I think I'll have a bath before I start."

"It is scarcely fair, after all," said I. "I suppose he wants to get back to his one o'clock dinner."

"I could no more feel for a gendarme than I could compa.s.sionate a scorpion. Take the best-natured fellow in Europe--the most generous, the most trustful, the most unsuspecting--make a brigadier of Gendarmerie of him for three months, and he'll come out scarcely a shade brighter than the veriest rascal he has handcuffed! Do you know what our friend yonder is at now?"

"No. He appears to be trying to take a stain out of one of his yellow gauntlets."

"No such thing. He is noting down your features--taking a written portrait of you, as the man who sat at breakfast with me on a certain morning of a certain month. Take my word for it, some day or other when you purchase a hat too tall in the crown, or you are seen to wear your whiskers a trifle too long or bushy, an intimation will reach you at your hotel, that the Prefect would like to talk with you; the end of which will be the question, 'Whether there is not a friend you are most anxious to meet in Switzerland, or if you have not an uncle impatient to see you at Trieste?' And yet," added he, after a pause, "the Piedmontese are models of liberality and legality in comparison with the officials in the south. In Sicily, for instance, the laws are more corruptly administered than in Turkey. I'll tell you a case, which was, however, more absurd than anything else. An English official, well known at Messina, and on the most intimate terms with the Prefect, came back from a short shooting-excursion he had made into the interior, half frantic with the insolence of the servants at a certain inn. The proprietor was absent, and the waiter and the cook--not caring, perhaps, to be disturbed for a single traveller--had first refused flatly to admit him; and afterwards, when he had obtained entrance, treated him to the worst of food, intimating at the same time it was better than he was used to, and plainly giving him to understand that on the very slightest provocation they were prepared to give him a sound thras.h.i.+ng. Boiling over with pa.s.sion, he got back to Messina, and hastened to recount his misfortunes to his friend in power.

"'Where did it happen?' asked the hard-worked Prefect, with folly enough on his hands without having to deal with the sorrows of Great Britons.

"'At Spalla deMonte.'

"'When?'

"'On Wednesday last, the 23d.'

"'What do you want me to do with them?'

"'To punish them, of course.'

"'How--in what way?'

"'How do I know? Send them to jail.'

"'For how long?'

"'A month if you can--a fortnight at least.'

"'What are the names?' asked the Prefect, who all this time continued to write, filling up certain blanks in some printed formula before him.

"'How should I know their names? I can only say that one was the cook, the other the waiter.'

"'There!' said the Prefect, tossing two sheets of printed and written-over paper towards him--'there! tell the landlord to fill in the fellows' names and surnames, and send that doc.u.ment to the Podesta. They shall have four weeks, and with hard labour.'

"The Englishman went his way rejoicing. He despatched the missive, and felt his injuries were avenged.

"Two days after, however, a friend dropped in, and in the course of conversation mentioned that he had just come from Spalla de Monte, where he had dined so well and met such an intelligent waiter; 'which, I own,'

said he, 'surprised me, for I had heard of their having insulted some traveller last week very grossly.'

"The Englishman hurried off to the Prefecture. 'We are outraged, insulted, laughed at!' cried he: 'those fellows you ordered to prison are at large. They mock your authority and despise it.'

"A mounted messenger was sent off at speed to bring up the landlord to Messina, and he appeared the next morning, pale with fear and trembling.

He owned that the Prefect's order had duly reached him, that he had understood it thoroughly; 'but, Eccellenza,' said he, crying, 'it was the shooting season; people were dropping in every day. Where was I to find a cook or a waiter? I must have closed the house if I parted with them; so, not to throw contempt on your wors.h.i.+p's order, I sent two of the stablemen to jail in their place, and a deal of good it will do them.'"

While I was laughing heartily at this story, my companion turned towards the gendarme and said, "Have you made a note of his teeth? you see they are tolerably regular, but one slightly overlaps the other in front."

"Signor Generale," said the other, reddening, "I'll make a note of _your_ tongue, which will do quite as well."

"Bravo!" said the Garibaldian; "better said than I could have given you credit for. I'll not keep you any longer from your dinner. Will you bear me company," asked he of me, "as far as Chiavari? It's a fine day, and we shall have a pleasant drive."

I agreed, and we started.

The road was interesting, the post-horses which we took at Borghetto went well, and the cigars were good, and somehow we said very little to each other as we went.

"This is the real way to travel," said my companion; "a man to smoke with and no bother of talking; there's Chiavari in the hollow."

I nodded, and never spoke.

"Are you inclined to come on to Genoa?"

"No."

And soon after we parted--whether ever to meet again or not is not so easy to say, nor of very much consequence to speculate on.

THE ORGAN NUISANCE AND ITS REMEDY.

There is scarcely any better measure of the amount of comfort a man enjoys than in the sort of things of which he makes grievances. When the princess in the Eastern story pa.s.sed a restless night on account of the rumpled rose-leaf she lay on, the inference is, that she was not, like another character of fiction, accustomed to "lie upon straw."

Thus thinking, I was led to speculate on what a happy people must inhabit the British Islands, seeing the amount of indignation and newspaper wrath bestowed upon what is called the Organ Nuisance. Now, granting that it is not always agreeable to have a nasal version of the march in 'William Tell,' 'Home, sweet Home,' or 'La Donna e mobile,'

under one's window at meal-times, in the hours of work, or the darker hours of headache, surely the nation which cries aloud over this as a national calamity must enjoy no common share of Fortune's favour, and have what the Yankees call a "fine time" here below.

Scarcely a week, however, goes over without one of these persecutors of British ears being brought up to justice, and some dreary penny-a-liner appears to prosecute in the person of a gentleman of literary pursuits, whose labours, like those of Mr Babbage, may be lost to the world, if the law will not hunt down the organs, and cry "Tally high-ho" to the "grinders."

It might be grave matter of inquiry whether the pa.s.sing annoyance of 'Cherry ripe' was not a smaller infliction than some of the tiresome lucubrations it has helped to muddle; and I half fancy I'd as soon listen to the thunder as drink the small beer it has soured into vinegar.

However, as the British Public is resolved on making it a grievance, and as some distinguished statesman has deemed it worth his while to devise a bill for its suppression, it is in vain to deny that the evil is one of magnitude. England has declared she will not be ground down by the Savoyard, and there is no more to be said of it.

A great authority in matters of evasion once protested that he would engage to drive a coach-and-six through any Act of Parliament that ever was framed, and I believe him. So certain is language to be too wide or too narrow--to embrace too much, and consequently fail in distinctness, or to include too little, and so defeat the attempt to particularise--that it does not call for more than an ordinary amount of acuteness to detect the flaws of such legislation. Then, when it comes to a discussion, and amendments are moved, and some honourable gentleman suggests that after the word "Whereas" in section 93 the clause should run "in no case, save in those to be hereafter specified," &c., there comes a degree of confusion and obscurity that invariably renders the original parent of the measure unable to know his offspring, and probably intently determined to destroy it. That in their eagerness for law-making the context of these bills is occasionally overlooked, one may learn from the case of an Irish measure where a fine was awarded as the punishment of a particular misdemeanour, and the Act declared that one-half of the sum should go to the county, one-half to the informer.

Parliament, however, altered the law, but overlooked the context.

Imprisonment with hard labour was decreed as the penalty of the offence, and the clause remained--"one-half to the county, one-half to the informer."

A Judge of no mean acuteness, the Chief Baron O'Grady, once declared, with respect to an Act against sheep-stealing, that after two careful readings he could not decide whether the penalties applied to the owner, of the sheep, the thief, or the sheep itself, for that each interpretation might be argumentatively sustained.

How will you suppress the organ-grinder after this? What are the limits of a man's domicile? How much of the coast does he own beyond his area-railings? Is No. 48 to be deprived of the 'Hat-catcher's Daughter'

because 47 is dyspeptic? Are the maids in 32 not to be cheered by 'Sich a gettin' up stairs' because there is a nervous invalid in 33? How long may an organ-man linger in front of a residence to tune or adjust his barrels--the dreariest of all discords? Can legislation determine how long or how loud the grand chorus in 'Nabucco' should be performed? What endless litigation will be inst.i.tuted by any attempt to provide for all these and a score more of similar casualties, not to speak of the insolent persecution that may be practised by the performance of tunes of a party character. Fancy Dr Wiseman composing a pastoral to the air of 'Croppies, lie down,' or the Danish Minister writing a despatch to the inspiriting strains of 'Schleswig-Holstein meer-umschlungen.' There might come a time, too, when 'Sie sollen ihm nicht haben' might grate on a French amba.s.sador's ears. Can your Act take cognisance of all these?

I see nothing but inextricable confusion in the attempt--confusion, difficulty, and defeat. There will be an Act, and an Act to amend that Act, and another Act to alter so much of such an Act, and then a final Act to repeal them all; so that at last the mover of a bill on the subject will be the greatest "organ nuisance" that the world has yet heard of.

It was "much reflecting" over these things, as my Lord Brougham says, that I sauntered along the Riviera from Genoa, and came to the little town of Chiavari, with its long sweep of yellow beach in front and its glorious grove of orange-trees behind--sure, whether the breeze came from land or sea, to inhale health and perfume. There is a wide old Piazza in the centre of the town, with a strange, dreary sort of inn with a low-arched entrance, under whose shade sit certain dignitaries of the place of an evening, sipping their coffee and talking over what they imagine to be the last news of the day. From these "Conscript Fathers" I learned that Chiavari is the native place of the barrel-organ, that from this little town go forth to all the dwellers in remotest lands the grinders of the many-cylindered torment, the persecutor of the prose-writer, the curse of him who calculates. Just as the valleys of Savoy supply white-mice men, and Lucca produces image-carriers, so does Chiavari yield its special product, the organ-grinder. Other towns, in their ambitions, have attempted the "industry," but they have egregiously failed; and Chiavari remains as distinctive in its product as Spitalfields for its shawls, or Dresden for its china. Whether there may be some peculiarity in the biceps of the Chiavarian, or some ulnar development which imparts power to his performance, I know not. I am forced to own that I have failed to discover to what circ.u.mstance or from what quality this excellence is derivable; but there is the fact, warranted and confirmed by a statistical return, that but for Chiavari we should have no barrel-organs.

"Never imagine," said a wise prelate, "that you will root Popery out of England till you destroy Oxford. If you want to get rid of the crows, you must pull down the rookery." The words of wisdom flashed suddenly over my mind as I walked across the silent Piazza at midnight; and I exclaimed--"Yes! here is the true remedy for the evil. With two hours of a gunboat and four small Armstrongs the thing is done; batter down Chiavari, and Bab-bage will bless you with his last breath. Pull down the cookery, and crush the young rooks in the ruins. Smash the cradle and the babe within it, and you need not fear the man!"

There is a grand justice in the conception that is highly elevating.

There is something eminently fine in making Chiavari, like the Cities of the Plain, a monument over its own iniquity. Leave not one stone upon another of it, and there will be peace in our homes and stillness in our streets. No more shall the black-bearded tormentor terrorise over Baker Street, or lord it in the Edgeware Road.