I entered Como between ten and eleven faint for food, and then a new
interest came to fill my mind with memories of this great adventure.
The lake was in flood, and all the town was water.
Como dry must be interesting enough; Como flooded is a marvel. What
else is Venice? And here is a Venice at the foot of high mountains,
and _all_ in the water, no streets or squares; a fine even depth of
three feet and a half or so for navigators, much what you have in the
Spitway in London River at low spring tides.
There were a few boats about, but the traffic and pleasure of Como was
passing along planks laid on trestles over the water here and there
like bridges; and for those who were in haste, and could afford it
(such as take cabs in London), there were wheelbarrows, coster carts,
and what not, pulled about by men for hire; and it was a sight to
remember all one's life to see the rich men of Como squatting on these
carts and barrows, and being pulled about over the water by the poor
men of Como, being, indeed, an epitome of all modern sociology and
economics and religion and organized charity and strenuousness and
liberalism and sophistry generally.
For my part I was determined to explore this curious town in the
water, and I especially desired to see it on the lake side, because
there one would get the best impression of its being really an aquatic
town; so I went northward, as I was directed, and came quite
unexpectedly upon the astonishing cathedral. It seemed built of
polished marble, and it was in every way so exquisite in proportion,
so delicate in sculpture, and so triumphant in attitude, that I
thought to myself -
'No wonder men praise Italy if this first Italian town has such a
building as this.'
But, as you will learn later, many of the things praised are ugly, and
are praised only by certain followers of charlatans.
So I went on till I got to the lake, and there I found a little port
about as big as a dining-room (for the Italian lakes play at being
little seas. They have little ports, little lighthouses, little
fleets for war, and little custom-houses, and little storms and little
lines of steamers. Indeed, if one wanted to give a rich child a
perfect model or toy, one could not give him anything better than an
Italian lake), and when I had long gazed at the town, standing, as it
seemed, right in the lake, I felt giddy, and said to myself, 'This is
the lack of food,' for I had eaten nothing but my coffee and bread
eleven miles before, at dawn.
So I pulled out my two francs, and going into a little shop, I bought
bread, sausage, and a very little wine for fourpence, and with one
franc eighty left I stood in the street eating and wondering what my
next step should be.
It seemed on the map perhaps twenty-five, perhaps twenty-six miles to
Milan. It was now nearly noon, and as hot as could be. I might, if I
held out, cover the distance in eight or nine hours, but I did not see
myself walking in the middle heat on the plain of Lombardy, and even
if I had been able I should only have got into Milan at dark or later,
when the post office (with my money in it) would be shut; and where
could I sleep, for my one franc eighty would be gone? A man covering
these distances must have one good meal a day or he falls ill. I could
beg, but there was the risk of being arrested, and that means an
indefinite waste of time, perhaps several days; and time, that had
defeated me at the Gries, threatened me here again. I had nothing to
sell or to pawn, and I had no friends. The Consul I would not attempt;
I knew too much of such things as Consuls when poor and dirty men try
them. Besides which, there was no Consul I pondered.
I went into the cool of the cathedral to sit in its fine darkness and
think better. I sat before a shrine where candles were burning, put up
for their private intentions by the faithful. Of many, two had nearly
burnt out. I watched them in their slow race for extinction when a
thought took me.
'I will,' said I to myself, 'use these candles for an ordeal or
heavenly judgement. The left hand one shall be for attempting the road
at the risk of illness or very dangerous failure; the right hand one
shall stand for my going by rail till I come to that point on the
railway where one franc eighty will take me, and thence walking into
Milan: - and heaven defend the right.'
They were a long time going out, and they fell evenly. At last the
right hand one shot up the long flame that precedes the death of
candles; the contest took on interest, and even excitement, when, just
as I thought the left hand certain of winning, it went out without
guess or warning, like a second-rate person leaving this world for
another. The right hand candle waved its flame still higher, as though
in triumph, outlived its colleague just the moment to enjoy glory, and
then in its turn went fluttering down the dark way from which they say
there is no return.
None may protest against the voice of the Gods. I went straight to the
nearest railway station (for there are two), and putting down one
franc eighty, asked in French for a ticket to whatever station that
sum would reach down the line.
