Me; I was indifferent to all save the intolerable heat, when I
suddenly recognized the enormous number of bridges that bespattered
the town.
'This is an odd thing,' I mused. 'Here is a little worriment of a town
up in the hills, and what a powerful lot of bridges!'
I cared not a fig for the thousand things I had been told to expect in
Tuscany; everything is in a mind, and as they were not in my mind they
did not exist. But the bridges, they indeed were worthy of admiration!
Here was a horrible little place on a torrent bank. One bridge was
reasonable for by it went the road leading south to Lucca and to Rome;
it was common honour to let men escape. But as I sat on that main
bridge I counted seven others; indeed there must have been a worship
of a bridge-god some time or other to account for such a necklace of
bridges in such a neglected borough.
You may say (I am off hard on the road to Borgo, drooping with the
heat, but still going strongly), you may say that is explicable
enough. First a thing is useful, you say, then it has to become
routine; then the habit, being a habit, gets a sacred idea attached to
it. So with bridges: _e.g._ Pontifex; Dervorguilla, our Ballici saint
that built a bridge; the devil that will hinder the building of
bridges; _cf. _the Porphyry Bridge in the Malay cosmogony;
Amershickel, Brueckengebildung im kult-Historischer. Passenmayer;
Durat, _Le pont antique, etude sur les origines Toscanes;_ Mr Dacre's
_The Command of Bridges in Warfare; Bridges and Empire,_ by Captain
Hole, U.S.A. You may say all this; I shall not reply. If the heat has
hindered me from saying a word of the fine open valley on the left, of
the little railway and of the last of the hills, do you suppose it
will permit me to discuss the sanctity of bridges? If it did, I think
there is a little question on 'why should habit turn sacred?' which
would somewhat confound and pose you, and pose also, for that matter,
every pedant that ever went blind and crook-backed over books, or took
ivory for horn. And there is an end of it. Argue it with whom you
will. It is evening, and I am at Borgo (for if many towns are called
Castel-Nuovo so are many called Borgo in Italy), and I desire to be
free of interruption while I eat and sleep and reflect upon the error
of that march in that heat, spoiling nearly thirty miles of road,
losing so many great and pleasurable emotions, all for haste and from
a neglect of the Italian night.
And as I ate, and before I slept, I thought of that annotated Guide
Book which is cried out for by all Europe, and which shall tell blunt
truths. Look you out _'Garfagnana, district of, Valley of Serchio'_
in the index. You will be referred to p. 267. Turn to p. 267. You
will find there the phrase -
'One can walk from the pretty little village of Sillano, nestling in
its chestnut groves, to the flourishing town of Borgo on the new Bagni
railway in a day.'
You will find a mark [1] after that phrase. It refers to a footnote.
Glance (or look) at the bottom of the page and you will find:
[1] But if one does one is a fool.
So I slept late and uneasily the insufficient sleep of men who have
suffered, and in that uneasy sleep I discovered this great truth: that
if in a southern summer you do not rest in the day the night will seem
intolerably warm, but that, if you rest in the day, you will find
coolness and energy at evening.
The next morning with daylight I continued the road to Lucca, and of
that also I will say nothing.
LECTOR. Why on earth did you write this book?
AUCTOR. For my amusement.
LECTOR. And why do you suppose I got it?
AUCTOR. I cannot conceive ... however, I will give up this much, to
tell you that at Decimo the mystery of cypress trees first came into
my adventure and pilgrimage: of cypress trees which henceforward were
to mark my Tuscan road. And I will tell you that there also I came
across a thing peculiar (I suppose) to the region of Lucca, for I saw
it there as at Decimo, and also some miles beyond. I mean fine
mournful towers built thus: In the first storey one arch, in the
second two, in the third three, and so on: a very noble way of
building.
And I will tell you something more. I will tell you something no one
has yet heard. To wit, why this place is called Decimo, and why just
below it is another little spot called Sexta.
LECTOR.. ..
AUCTOR. I know what you are going to say! Do not say it. You are going
to say: 'It is because they were at the sixth and tenth milestones
from Lucca on the Roman road.' Heaven help these scientists! Did you
suppose that I thought it was called Decimo because the people had ten
toes? Tell me, why is not every place ten miles out of a Roman town
called by such a name? Eh? You are dumb. You cannot answer. Like most
moderns you have entirely missed the point. We all know that there was
a Roman town at Lucca, because it was called Luca, and if there had
been no Roman town the modern town would not be spelt with two _c's._
All Roman towns had milestones beyond them.
