calmer。 By degrees he became so； and tranquilly walked back with
me to the hotel。 There； I sat down before I went to bed and wrote
a faithful account of him to the Englishman： which I concluded by
saying that I would bring the wine home； against any difficulties；
every drop。
Early next morning； when I came out at the hotel door to pursue my
journey； I found my friend waiting with one of those immense
bottles in which the Italian peasants store their wine … a bottle
holding some half…dozen gallons … bound round with basket…work for
greater safety on the journey。 I see him now； in the bright
sunshine； tears of gratitude in his eyes； proudly inviting my
attention to this corpulent bottle。 （At the street…comer hard by；
two high…flavoured； able…bodied monks … pretending to talk
together； but keeping their four evil eyes upon us。）
How the bottle had been got there； did not appear； but the
difficulty of getting it into the ramshackle vetturino carriage in
which I was departing； was so great； and it took up so much room
when it was got in； that I elected to sit outside。 The last I saw
of Giovanni Carlavero was his running through the town by the side
of the jingling wheels； clasping my hand as I stretched it down
from the box； charging me with a thousand last loving and dutiful
messages to his dear patron； and finally looking in at the bottle
as it reposed inside； with an admiration of its honourable way of
travelling that was beyond measure delightful。
And now； what disquiet of mind this dearly…beloved and highly…
treasured Bottle began to cost me； no man knows。 It was my
precious charge through a long tour； and； for hundreds of miles； I
never had it off my mind by day or by night。 Over bad roads … and
they were many … I clung to it with affectionate desperation。 Up
mountains； I looked in at it and saw it helplessly tilting over on
its back； with terror。 At innumerable inn doors when the weather
was bad； I was obliged to be put into my vehicle before the Bottle
could be got in； and was obliged to have the Bottle lifted out
before human aid could come near me。 The Imp of the same name；
except that his associations were all evil and these associations
were all good； would have been a less troublesome travelling
companion。 I might have served Mr。 Cruikshank as a subject for a
new illustration of the miseries of the Bottle。 The National
Temperance Society might have made a powerful Tract of me。
The suspicions that attached to this innocent Bottle； greatly
aggravated my difficulties。 It was like the apple…pie in the
child's book。 Parma pouted at it； Modena mocked it； Tuscany
tackled it； Naples nibbled it； Rome refused it； Austria accused it；
Soldiers suspected it； Jesuits jobbed it。 I composed a neat
Oration； developing my inoffensive intentions in connexion with
this Bottle； and delivered it in an infinity of guard…houses； at a
multitude of town gates； and on every drawbridge； angle； and
rampart； of a complete system of fortifications。 Fifty times a
day； I got down to harangue an infuriated soldiery about the
Bottle。 Through the filthy degradation of the abject and vile
Roman States； I had as much difficulty in working my way with the
Bottle； as if it had bottled up a complete system of heretical
theology。 In the Neapolitan country； where everybody was a spy； a
soldier； a priest； or a lazzarone； the shameless beggars of all
four denominations incessantly pounced on the Bottle and made it a
pretext for extorting money from me。 Quires … quires do I say？
Reams … of forms illegibly printed on whity…brown paper were filled
up about the Bottle； and it was the subject of more stamping and
sanding than I had ever seen before。 In consequence of which haze
of sand； perhaps； it was always irregular； and always latent with
dismal penalties of going back or not going forward； which were
only to be abated by the silver crossing of a base hand； poked
shirtless out of a ragged uniform sleeve。 Under all
discouragements； however； I stuck to my Bottle； and held firm to my
resolution that every drop of its contents should reach the
Bottle's destination。
The latter refinement cost me a separate heap of troubles on its
own separate account。 What corkscrews did I see the military power
bring out against that Bottle； what gimlets； spikes； divining rods；
gauges； and unknown tests and instruments！ At some places； they
persisted in declaring that the wine must not be passed； without
being opened and tasted； I； pleading to the contrary； used then to
argue the question seated on the Bottle lest they should open it in
spite of me。 In the southern parts of Italy more violent
shrieking； face…making； and gesticulating； greater vehemence of
speech and countenance and action； went on about that Bottle than
would attend fifty murders in a northern latitude。 It raised
important functionaries out of their beds； in the dead of night。 I
have known half…a…dozen military lanterns to disperse themselves at
all points of a great sleeping Piazza； each lantern summoning some
official creature to get up； put on his cocked…hat instantly； and
come and stop the Bottle。 It was characteristic that while this
innocent Bottle had such immense difficulty in getting from little
town to town； Signor Mazzini and the fiery cross were traversing
Italy from end to end。
Still； I stuck to my Bottle； like any fine old English gentleman
all of the olden time。 The more the Bottle was interfered with；
the stauncher I became （if possible） in my first determination that
my countryman should have it delivered to him intact； as the man
whom he had so nobly restored to life and liberty had delivered it
to me。 If ever I had been obstinate in my days … and I may have
been； say； once or twice … I was obstinate about the Bottle。 But；
I made it a rule always to keep a pocket full of small coin at its
service； and never to be out of temper in its cause。 Thus； I and
the Bottle made our way。 Once we had a break…down； rather a bad
break…down； on a steep high place with the sea below us； on a
tempestuous evening when it blew great guns。 We were driving four
wild horses abreast； Southern fashion； and there was some little
difficulty in stopping them。 I was outside； and not thrown off；
but no words can describe my feelings when I saw the Bottle …
travelling inside； as usual … burst the door open； and roll obesely
out into the road。 A blessed Bottle with a charmed existence； he
took no hurt； and we repaired damage； and went on triumphant。
A thousand representations were made to me that the Bottle must be
left at this place； or that； and called for again。 I never yielded
to one of them； and never parted from the Bottle； on any pretence；
consideration； threat； or entreaty。 I had no faith in any official
receipt for the Bottle； and nothing would induce me to accept one。
These unmanageable politics at last brought me and the Bottle；
still triumphant； to Genoa。 There； I took a tender and reluctant
leave of him for a few weeks； and consigned him to a trusty English
captain； to be conveyed to the Port of London by sea。
While the Bottle was on his voyage to England； I read the Shipping
Intelligence as anxiously as if I had been an underwriter。 There
was some stormy weather after I myself had got to England by way of
Switzerland and France； and my mind greatly misgave me that the
Bottle might be wrecked。 At last to my great joy； I received
notice of his safe arrival； and immediately went down to Saint
Katharine's Docks； and found him in a state of honourable captivity
in the Custom House。
The wine was mere vinegar when I set it down before the generous
Englishman … probably it had been something like vinegar when I
took it up from Giovanni Carlavero … but not a drop of it was
spilled or gone。 And the Englishman told me； with much emotion in
his face and voice； that he had never tasted wine that seemed to
him so sweet and sound。 And long afterwards； the Bottle graced his
table。 And the last time I saw him in this world that misses him；
he took me aside in a crowd； to say； with his amiable smile： 'We
were talking of you only to…day at dinner； and I wished you had
been there； for I had some Claret up in Carlavero's Bottle。'
CHAPTER XVIII … THE CALAIS NIGHT MAIL
It is an unsettled question with me whether I shall leave Calais
something handsome in my will； or whether I shall leave it my
malediction。 I hate it so much； and yet I am always so very glad
to see it； that I am in a state of constant indecision on this
subject。 When I first made acquaintance with Calais； it was as a
maundering young wretch in a clammy perspiration and dripping
saline particles； who was conscious of no extremities but the one
great extremity； sea…sickness … who was a mere bilious torso； with
a mislaid headache somewhere in its stomach … who had been put in