three men on the bummel(三个闲逛的人)-第15章
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information； therefore it is that nothing in the nature of practical
instruction will be found； if I can help it； within these pages。
There will be no description of towns； no historical reminiscences； no
architecture； no morals。
I once asked an intelligent foreigner what he thought of London。
He said： 〃It is a very big town。〃
I said： 〃What struck you most about it？〃
He replied： 〃The people。〃
I said： 〃Compared with other townsParis； Rome； Berlin；what did
you think of it？〃
He shrugged his shoulders。 〃It is bigger；〃 he said； 〃what more can
one say？〃
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One anthill is very much like another。 So many avenues； wide or
narrow； where the little creatures swarm in strange confusion； these
bustling by； important； these halting to pow…wow with one another。
These struggling with big burdens； those but basking in the sun。 So
many granaries stored with food； so many cells where the little things
sleep； and eat； and love； the corner where lie their little white bones。
This hive is larger； the next smaller。 This nest lies on the sand； and another
under the stones。 This was built but yesterday； while that was fashioned
ages ago； some say even before the swallows came； who knows？
Nor will there be found herein folk…lore or story。
Every valley where lie homesteads has its song。 I will tell you the
plot； you can turn it into verse and set it to music of your own。
There lived a lass； and there came a lad； who loved and rode away。
It is a monotonous song； written in many languages； for the young
man seems to have been a mighty traveller。 Here in sentimental
Germany they remember him well。 So also the dwellers of the Blue
Alsatian Mountains remember his coming among them； while； if my
memory serves me truly； he likewise visited the Banks of Allan Water。 A
veritable Wandering Jew is he； for still the foolish girls listen； so they say；
to the dying away of his hoof…beats。
In this land of many ruins； that long while ago were voice…filled homes；
linger many legends； and here again； giving you the essentials； I leave you
to cook the dish for yourself。 Take a human heart or two； assorted； a
bundle of human passionsthere are not many of them； half a dozen at the
most； season with a mixture of good and evil； flavour the whole with the
sauce of death； and serve up where and when you will。 〃The Saint's
Cell；〃 〃The Haunted Keep；〃 〃The Dungeon Grave；〃 〃The Lover's Leap〃
call it what you will； the stew's the same。
Lastly； in this book there will be no scenery。 This is not laziness on
my part； it is self…control。 Nothing is easier to write than scenery；
nothing more difficult and unnecessary to read。 When Gibbon had to trust
to travellers' tales for a description of the Hellespont； and the Rhine was
chiefly familiar to English students through the medium of Caesar's
Commentaries； it behoved every globe…trotter； for whatever distance； to
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describe to the best of his ability the things that he had seen。 Dr。 Johnson；
familiar with little else than the view down Fleet Street； could read the
description of a Yorkshire moor with pleasure and with profit。 To a
cockney who had never seen higher ground than the Hog's Back in Surrey；
an account of Snowdon must have appeared exciting。 But we； or rather
the steam…engine and the camera for us； have changed all that。 The man
who plays tennis every year at the foot of the Matterhorn； and billiards on
the summit of the Rigi； does not thank you for an elaborate and
painstaking description of the Grampian Hills。 To the average man； who
has seen a dozen oil paintings； a hundred photographs； a thousand pictures
in the illustrated journals； and a couple of panoramas of Niagara； the
word…painting of a waterfall is tedious。
An American friend of mine； a cultured gentleman； who loved poetry
well enough for its own sake； told me that he had obtained a more correct
and more satisfying idea of the Lake district from an eighteenpenny book
of photographic views than from all the works of Coleridge； Southey； and
Wordsworth put together。 I also remember his saying concerning this
subject of scenery in literature； that he would thank an author as much for
writing an eloquent description of what he had just had for dinner。 But
this was in reference to another argument； namely； the proper province of
each art。 My friend maintained that just as canvas and colour were the
wrong mediums for story telling； so word…painting was； at its best； but a
clumsy method of conveying impressions that could much better be
received through the eye。
As regards the question； there also lingers in my memory very
distinctly a hot school afternoon。 The class was for English literature；
and the proceedings commenced with the reading of a certain lengthy； but
otherwise unobjectionable； poem。 The author's name； I am ashamed to
say； I have forgotten； together with the title of the poem。 The reading
finished； we closed our books； and the Professor； a kindly； white…haired
old gentleman； suggested our giving in our own words an account of what
we had just read。
〃Tell me；〃 said the Professor； encouragingly； 〃what it is all about。〃
〃Please； sir；〃 said the first boyhe spoke with bowed head and evident
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reluctance； as though the subject were one which； left to himself； he would
never have mentioned；〃it is about a maiden。〃
〃Yes；〃 agreed the Professor； 〃but I want you to tell me in your own
words。 We do not speak of a maiden； you know； we say a girl。 Yes； it is
about a girl。 Go on。〃
〃A girl；〃 repeated the top boy； the substitution apparently increasing
his embarrassment； 〃who lived in a wood。〃
〃What sort of a wood？〃 asked the Professor。
The first boy examined his inkpot carefully； and then looked at the
ceiling。
〃Come；〃 urged the Professor； growing impatient； 〃you have been
reading about this wood for the last ten minutes。 Surely you can tell me
something concerning it。〃
〃The gnarly trees； their twisted branches〃recommenced the top boy。
〃No； no；〃 interrupted the Professor； 〃I do not want you to repeat the
poem。 I want you to tell me in your own words what sort of a wood it
was where the girl lived。〃
The Professor tapped his foot impatiently； the top boy made a dash for
it。
〃Please； sir； it was the usual sort of a wood。〃
〃Tell him what sort of a wood；〃 said he； pointing to the second lad。
The second boy said it was a 〃green wood。〃 This annoyed the
Professor still more； he called the second boy a blockhead； though really I
cannot see why； and passed on to the third； who； for the last minute； had
been sitting apparently on hot plates； with his right arm waving up and
down like a distracted semaphore signal。 He would have had to say it the
next second； whether the Professor had asked him or not； he was red in the
face； holding his knowledge in。
〃A dark and gloomy wood；〃 shouted the third boy； with much relief to
his feelings。
〃A dark and gloomy wood；〃 repeated the Professor； with evident
approval。 〃And why was it dark and gloomy？〃
The third boy was still equal to the occasion。
〃Because the sun could not get inside it。〃
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The Professor felt he had discovered the poet of the class。
〃Because the sun could not get into it； or； better； because the sunbeams
could not penetrate。 And why could not the sunbeams penetrate there？〃
〃Please； sir； because the leaves were too thick。〃
〃Very well；〃 said the Professor。 〃The girl lived in a dark and gloomy
wood； through the leafy canopy of which the sunbeams were unable to
pierce。 Now； what grew in this wood？〃 He pointed to the fourth boy。
〃Please； sir； trees； sir。〃
〃And what else？〃
〃Toadstools； sir。〃 This after a pause。
The Professor was not quite sure about the toadstools； but on referring
to the text he found that the boy was right； toadstools had been mentioned。
〃Quite right；〃 admitted the Professor； 〃toadstools grew there。 And
what else？ What do you find underneath trees in a wood？〃
〃Please； sir； earth； sir。〃
〃No； no； what grows in a wood besides trees？〃
〃Oh； please； sir； bushes； sir。〃
〃Bushes； very good。 Now we are getting on。 In this wood there
were trees and bushes。 And what else？〃
He pointed to a small boy near the bottom； who having decided that
the wood was too far off to be of any annoyance to him； individually； was
occupying his leisure playing noughts and crosses against himself。
Vexed and bewildered； but feeling it necessary to add something to the
inventory； he hazarded blackberries。 This was a mistake； the poet had
not mentioned blackberries。
〃Of course； Klobstock would think of something to eat；〃 commented
the Professor； who prided himself on his ready wit。 This raised a laugh
against Klobstock； and pleased the Professor。
〃You；〃 continued he； pointing to a boy in the middle； 〃what else was
there in this wood besides trees and bushes？〃
〃Please； sir； the
