Here, at a well-lighted table in a rather stuffy room, sat a delegato or
commissario - I forget which - surrounded, despite the lateness of the
hour, by one or two subordinates. He was of middle age, and not
prepossessing. He looked as if he could make himself unpleasant, though
his face was not of that actively vicious - or actively stupid: the terms
are interconvertible - kind. While scanning his countenance, during those
few moments, sundry thoughts flitted through my mind.
These then, I said to myself - these are the functionaries, whether
executive or administrative, whether Italian or English or Chinese, whom
a man is supposed to respect. Who are they? God knows. Nine-tenths of
them are in a place where they have no business to be: so much is
certain. And what are they doing, these swarms of parasites? Justifying
their salaries by inventing fresh regulations and meddlesome bye-laws,
and making themselves objectionable all round. Distrust of authority
should be the first civic duty, even as the first military duty is said
to be the reverse of it. We catch ourselves talking of the "lesson of
history." Why not take that lesson to heart? Reverence of the mandarin
destroyed the fair life of old China, which was overturned by the
Tartars not because Chinamen were too weak or depraved, but because they
were the opposite: too moral, too law-abiding, too strong in their sense
of right. They paid for their virtue with the extinction of their
wonderful culture. They ought to have known better; they ought to have
rated morality at its true worth, since it was the profoundest Chinaman
himself who said that virtue is merely etiquette - or something to that
effect.
I found myself studying the delegato's physiognomy. What could one do
with such a composite face? It is a question which often confronts me
when I see such types. It confronted me then, in a flash. How make it
more presentable, more imposing? By what alterations? Shaving that
moustache? No; his countenance could not carry the loss; it would
forfeit what little air of dignity it possessed. A small pointed beard,
an eye-glass? Possibly. Another trimming of the hair might have improved
him, but, on the whole, it was a face difficult to manipulate, on
account of its inherent insipidity and self-contradictory features; one
of those faces which give so much trouble to the barbers and valets of
European royalties.
He took down the names and addresses of all four of us, and it was then
that I missed my chance. I ought to have spoken first instead of
allowing this luscious director to begin as follows: -
"The foreign gentleman here was at Orvinio about a month ago. He admits
it himself and I can corroborate the fact, as I was there at the same
time. Orvinio is a small country place in the corner of Umbria. There is
a mountain in the neighbourhood, remote and very high - altissima!
