四季随笔-the private papers of henry ryecroft(英文版)-第15部分

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　stringy　cabbage。　The　very　joint……ribs　or　sirloin；　leg　or　shoulder……is　monly　a　poor；　underfed；　sapless　thing；　scorched　in　an　oven；　and　as　for　the　round　of　beef；　it　has　as　good　as　disappeared……probably　because　it　asks　too　much　skill　in　the　salting。　Then　again　one's　breakfast　bacon；　what　intolerable　stuff；　smelling　of　saltpetre；　has　been　set　before　me　when　I　paid　the　price　of　the　best　smoked　Wiltshire！　It　would　be　mere　indulgence　of　the　spirit　of　grumbling　to　talk　about　poisonous　tea　and　washy　coffee；　every　one　knows　that　these　drinks　cannot　be　had　at　public　tables；　but　what　if　there　be　real　reason　for　discontent　with　one's　pint　of　ale？　Often；　still；　that　draught　from　the　local　brewery　is　sound　and　invigorating；　but　there　are　grievous　exceptions；　and　no　doubt　the　tendency　is　here；　as　in　other　things……a　falling　off；　a　carelessness；　if　not　a　calculating　dishonesty。　I　foresee　the　day　when　Englishmen　will　have　forgotten　how　to　brew　beer；　when　one's　only　safety　will　lie　in　the　draught　imported　from　Munich。
XVII
I　was　taking　a　meal　once　at　a　London　restaurant……not　one　of　the　great　eating…places　to　which　men　most　resort；　but　a　small　establishment　on　the　same　model　in　a　quiet　neighbourhood……when　there　entered；　and　sat　down　at　the　next　table；　a　young　man　of　the　working　class；　whose　dress　betokened　holiday。　A　glance　told　me　that　he　felt　anything　but　at　ease；　his　mind　misgave　him　as　he　looked　about　the　long　room　and　at　the　table　before　him；　and　when　a　waiter　came　to　offer　him　the　card；　he　stared　blankly　in　sheepish　confusion。　Some　strange　windfall；　no　doubt；　had　emboldened　him　to　enter　for　the　first　time　such　a　place　as　this；　and　now　that　he　was　here；　he　heartily　wished　himself　out　in　the　street　again。　However；　aided　by　the　waiter's　suggestions；　he　gave　an　order　for　a　beef…steak　and　vegetables。　When　the　dish　was　served；　the　poor　fellow　simply　could　not　make　a　start　upon　it；　he　was　embarrassed　by　the　display　of　knives　and　forks；　by　the　arrangement　of　the　dishes；　by　the　sauce　bottles　and　the　cruet…stand；　above　all；　no　doubt；　by　the　assembly　of　people　not　of　his　class；　and　the　unwonted　experience　of　being　waited　upon　by　a　man　with　a　long　shirt…front。　He　grew　red；　he　made　the　clumsiest　and　most　futile　efforts　to　transport　the　meat　to　his　plate；　food　was　there　before　him；　but；　like　a　very　Tantalus；　he　was　forbidden　to　enjoy　it。　Observing　with　all　discretion；　I　at　length　saw　him　pull　out　his　pocket　handkerchief；　spread　it　on　the　table；　and；　with　a　sudden　effort；　fork　the　meat　off　the　dish　into　this　receptacle。　The　waiter；　aware　by　this　time　of　the　customer's　difficulty；　came　up　and　spoke　a　word　to　him。　Abashed　into　anger；　the　young　man　roughly　asked　what　he　had　to　pay。　It　ended　in　the　waiter's　bringing　a　newspaper；　wherein　he　helped　to　wrap　up　meat　and　vegetables。　Money　was　flung　down；　and　the　victim　of　a　mistaken　ambition　hurriedly　departed；　to　satisfy　his　hunger　amid　less　unfamiliar　surroundings。
It　was　a　striking　and　unpleasant　illustration　of　social　differences。　Could　such　a　thing　happen　in　any　country　but　England？　I　doubt　it。　The　sufferer　was　of　decent　appearance；　and；　with　ordinary　self…　mand；　might　have　taken　his　meal　in　the　restaurant　like　any　one　else；　quite　unnoticed。　But　he　belonged　to　a　class　which；　among　all　classes　in　the　world；　is　distinguished　by　native　clownishness　and　by　unpliability　to　novel　circumstance。　The　English　lower　ranks　had　need　be　marked　by　certain　peculiar　virtues　to　atone　for　their　deficiencies　in　other　respects。
XVIII
It　is　easy　to　understand　that　mon　judgment　of　foreigners　regarding　the　English　people。　Go　about　in　England　as　a　stranger；　travel　by　rail；　live　at　hotels；　see　nothing　but　the　broadly　public　aspect　of　things；　and　the　impression　left　upon　you　will　be　one　of　hard　egoism；　of　gruffness　and　sullenness；　in　a　word；　of　everything　that　contrasts　most　strongly　with　the　ideal　of　social　and　civic　life。　And　yet；　as　a　matter　of　fact；　no　nation　possesses　in　so　high　a　degree　the　social　and　civic　virtues。　The　unsociable　Englishman；　quotha？　Why；　what　country　in　the　world　can　show　such　multifarious；　vigorous　and　cordial　co…operation；　in　all　ranks；　but　especially；　of　course；　among　the　intelligent；　for　ends　which　concern　the　mon　good？　Unsociable！　Why；　go　where　you　will　in　England　you　can　hardly　find　a　man……nowadays；　indeed；　scarce　an　educated　woman……who　does　not　belong　to　some　alliance；　for　study　or　sport；　for　municipal　or　national　benefit；　and　who　will　not　be　seen；　in　leisure　time；　doing　his　best　as　a　social　being。　Take　the　so…called　sleepy　market…town；　it　is　bubbling　with　all　manner　of　associated　activities；　and　these　of　the　quite　voluntary　kind；　forms　of　zealously　united　effort　such　as　are　never　dreamt　of　in　the　countries　supposed　to　be　eminently　〃social。〃　Sociability　does　not　consist　in　a　readiness　to　talk　at　large　with　the　first　er。　It　is　not　dependent　upon　natural　grace　and　suavity；　it　is　patible；　indeed；　with　thoroughly　awkward　and　all　but　brutal　manners。　The　English　have　never　（at　all　events；　for　some　two　centuries　past）　inclined　to　the　purely　ceremonial　or　mirthful　forms　of　sociability；　but　as　regards　every　prime　interest　of　the　munity……health　and　fort；　well…being　of　body　and　of　soul……their　social　instinct　is　supreme。
Yet　it　is　so　difficult　to　reconcile　this　indisputable　fact　with　that　other　fact；　no　less　obvious；　that　your　mon　Englishman　seems　to　have　no　geniality。　From　the　one　point　of　view；　I　admire　and　laud　my　fellow　countryman；　from　the　other；　I　heartily　dislike　him　and　wish　to　see　as　little　of　him　as　possible。　One　is　wont　to　think　of　the　English　as　a　genial　folk。　Have　they　lost　in　this　respect？　Has　the　century　of　science　and　money…making　sensibly　affected　the　national　character？　I　think　always　of　my　experience　at　the　English　inn；　where　it　is　impossible　not　to　feel　a　brutal　indifference　to　the　humane　features　of　life；　where　food　is　bolted　without　attention；　liquor　swallowed　out　of　mere　habit；　where　even　good…natured　accost　is　a　thing　so　rare　as　to　be　remarkable。
Two　things　have　to　be　borne　in　mind：　the　extraordinary　difference　of　demeanour　which　exists　between　the　refined　and　the　vulgar　English；　and　the　natural　difficulty　of　an　Englishman　in　revealing　his　true　self　save　under　the　most　favourable　circumstances。
So　striking　is　the　difference　of　manner　between　class　and　class　that　the　hasty　observer　might　well　imagine　a　corresponding　and　radical　difference　of　mind　and　character。　In　Russia；　I　suppose；　the　social　extremities　are　seen　to　be　pretty　far　apart；　but；　with　that　possible　exception；　I　should　think　no　European　country　can　show　such　a　gap　as　yawns　to　the　eye　between　the　English　gentleman　and　the　English　boor。　The　boor；　of　course；　is　the　multitude；　the　boor　impresses　himself　upon　the　traveller。　When　relieved　from　his　presence；　one　can　be　just　to　him；　one　can　remember　that　his　virtues……though　elementary；　and　strictly　in　need　of　direction……are　the　same；　to　a　great　extent；　as　those　of　the　well…bred　man。　He　does　not　represent……though　seeming　to　do　so……a　nation　apart。　To　understand　this　multitude；　you　must　get　below　its　insufferable　manners；　and　learn　that　very　fine　civic　qualities　can　consist　with　a　personal　bearing　almost　wholly　repellent。
Then；　as　to　the　dogged　reserve　of　the　educated　man；　why；　I　have　only　to　look　into　myself。　I；　it　is　true；　am　not　quite　a　representative　Englishman；　my　self…consciousness；　my　meditative　habit　of　mind；　rather　dim　my　national　and　social　characteristics；　but　set　me　among　a　few　specimens　of　the　multitude；　and　am　I　not　at　once　aware　of　that　instinctive　antipathy；　that　shrinking　into　myself；　that　something　like　unto　scorn；　of　which　the　Englishman　is　accused　by　foreigners　who　casually　meet　him？　Peculiar　to　me　is　the　effort　to　overe　this　first　impulse……an　effort　which　often　enough　succeeds。　If　I　know　myself　at　all；　I　am　not　an　ungenial　man；　and　yet　I　am　quite　sure　that　many　people　who　have　known　me　casually　would　say　that　my　fault　is　a　lack　of　geniality。　To　show　my　true　self；　I　must　be　in　the　right　mood　and　the　right　circumstances……which；　after　all；　is　merely　as　much　as　saying　that　I　am　decidedly　English。
XIX
On　my　breakfast　table　there　is　a　pot　of　honey。　Not　the　manufactured　stuff　sold　under　that　name　in　shops；　but　honey　of　the　hive；　brought　to　me　by　a　neighbouring　cottager　whose　bees　often　hum　in　my　garden。　It　gives；　I　confess；　more　pleasure　to　my　eye　than　to　my　palate；　but　I　like　to　taste　of　it；　because　it　is　honey。
There　is　as　much　difference；　said　Johnson；　between　a　lettered　and　an　unlettered　man　as　between　the　living　and　the　dead；　and；　in　a　way；　it　was　no　extravagance。　Think　merely　how　one's　view　of　mon　things　is　affected　by　literary　association。　What　were　honey　to　me　if　I　knew　nothing　of　Hymettus　and　Hybla？……if　my　mind　had　no　stores　of　poetry；　no　memories　of　romance？　Suppose　me　town…pent；　the　name　might　bring　with　it　some　pleasantness　of　rustic　odour；　but　of　what　poor　significance　even　that；　if　the　country　were　to　me　mere　grass　and　corn　and　vegetables；　as　to　the　man　who　has　never　read　nor　wished　to　read。　For　the　Poet　is　indeed　a　Maker：　above　the　world　of　sense；　trodden　by　hidebound　humanity；　he　builds　that　world　of　his　own　whereto　is　summoned　the　unfettered　spirit。　Why　does　it　delight　me　to　see　the　bat　flitting　at　dusk　before　my　window；　or　to　hear　the　hoot　of　the　owl　when　all　the　ways　are　dark？　I　might　regard　the　bat　with　disgust；　and　the　owl　either　with　vague　superstition　or　not　heed　it　at　all。　But　these　have　their　place　in　the　poet's　world；　and　carry　me　above　this　idle　present。
I　once　passed　a　night　in　a　little　market…town　where　I　had　arrived　tired　and　went　to　bed　early。　I　slept　forthwith；　but　was　presently　awakened　by　I　knew　not　what；　in　the　darkness　there　sounded　a　sort　of　music；　and；　as　my　brain　cleared；　I　was　aware　of　the　soft　chiming　of　church　bells。　Why；　what　hour　could　it　be？　I　struck　a　light　and　looked　at　my　watch。　Midnight。　Then　a　glow　came　over　me。　〃We　have　heard　the　chimes　at　midnight；　Master　Shallow！〃　Never　till　then　had　I　heard　them。　And　the　town　in　which　I　slept　was　Evesham；　but　a　few　miles　from　Stratford…on…Avon。　What　if　those　midnight　bells　had　been　to　me　but　as　any　other；　and　I　had　reviled　them　for　breaking　my　sleep？……Johnson　did　not　much　exaggerate。
XX
It　is　the　second　Jubilee。　Bonfires　blaze　upon　the　hills；　making　one　think　of　the　watchman　on　Agamemnon's　cita