“London, for instance, I have found, is childish in its inscriptions and somewhat clownish. When some sentimental foolishness doesn’t occur to a Londoner of the people, some brutality or rough joke occurs to him.”
“You are very kind,” said Kennedy, laughing.
“Paris has a vulgar, cruel taste; in the Frenchman of the people you find the tiger alternating with the monkey. There the dominant note on the walls is the patriotic note, insults to politicians, calling them assassins and thieves, and also sentiments of revenge expressed by an ‘A mort Dupin!’’ or ‘A mort Duval!’’ Moreover, there is a great enthusiasm for the guillotine.”
“And Madrid?”
“Madrid is at heart a rude, moral town with little imagination, and the epigraphs on the walls and benches are primitive.”
“And in Rome what do you find?”
“Here one finds a mixture of pornography, romanticism, and politics. A heart pierced by an arrow and poetic phrases, alternate with some enormous piece of filthiness and with hurrahs for Anarchy or for the ‘Papa-re.‘”
“Well done!” said Kennedy; “I can see that the branch of epigraphy you practise amounts to something. It should be systematized and given a name.”
“What do you think we should name it? Wallography?”
“Very good.”