The Ticket Came Out Marked Milan, And I
Admitted The Miracle And Confessed The Finger Of Providence.
There was
no change, and as I got into the train I had become that rarest and
ultimate kind of traveller, the man without any money whatsoever -
without passport, without letters, without food or wine; it would be
interesting to see what would follow if the train broke down.
I had marched 378 miles and some three furlongs, or thereabouts.
Thus did I break - but by a direct command - the last and dearest of my
vows, and as the train rumbled off, I took luxury in the rolling
wheels.
I thought of that other medieval and papistical pilgrim hobbling along
rather than 'take advantage of any wheeled thing', and I laughed at
him. Now if Moroso-Malodoroso or any other Non-Aryan, Antichristian,
over-inductive, statistical, brittle-minded man and scientist, sees
anything remarkable in one self laughing at another self, let me tell
him and all such for their wide-eyed edification and astonishment that
I knew a man once that had fifty-six selves (there would have been
fifty-seven, but for the poet in him that died young) - he could evolve
them at will, and they were very useful to lend to the parish priest
when he wished to make up a respectable Procession on Holy-days. And I
knew another man that could make himself so tall as to look over the
heads of the scientists as a pine-tree looks over grasses, and again
so small as to discern very clearly the thick coating or dust of
wicked pride that covers them up in a fine impenetrable coat. So much
for the moderns.
The train rolled on. I noticed Lombardy out of the windows. It is
flat. I listened to the talk of the crowded peasants in the train. I
did not understand it. I twice leaned out to see if Milan were not
standing up before me out of the plain, but I saw nothing. Then I fell
asleep, and when I woke suddenly it was because we were in the
terminus of that noble great town, which I then set out to traverse in
search of my necessary money and sustenance. It was yet but early in
the afternoon.
What a magnificent city is Milan! The great houses are all of stone,
and stand regular and in order, along wide straight streets. There are
swift cars, drawn by electricity, for such as can afford them. Men are
brisk and alert even in the summer heats, and there are shops of a
very good kind, though a trifle showy. There are many newspapers to
help the Milanese to be better men and to cultivate charity and
humility; there are banks full of paper money; there are soldiers,
good pavements, and all that man requires to fulfil him, soul and
body; cafes, arcades, mutoscopes, and every sign of the perfect state.
And the whole centres in a splendid open square, in the midst of which
is the cathedral, which is justly the most renowned in the world.
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