the quest of the golden girl-第6节

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Switzerland；　for　I　am　sure　the　Alps　must　be　greasy　with　being　climbed。

Besides；　the　Alps　and　the　gipsies；　in　common　with　waterfalls　and　ruined　castles；　belong　to　the　ready…made　operatic　poetry　of　the　world；　from　which　the　last　thrill　has　long　since　departed。　　They　are；　so　to　say；　public　poetry；　the　public　property　of　the　emotions；　and　no　longer　touch　the　private　heart　or　stir　the　private　imagination。　　Our　fathers　felt　so　much　about　them　that　there　is　nothing　left　for　us　to　feel。　　They　are　as　a　rose　whose　fragrance　has　been　exhausted　by　greedy　and　indiscriminate　smelling。　　I　would　rather　find　a　little　Surrey　common　for　myself　and　idle　about　it　a　summer　day；　with　the　other　geese　and　donkeys；　than　climb　the　tallest　Alp。

Most　gipsies　are　merely　tenth…rate　provincial　companies；　travelling　with　and　villainously　travestying　Borrow's　great　pieces　of　〃Lavengro〃　and　〃Romany　Rye。〃　　Dirty；　ill…looking；　scowling　men；　dirty；　slovenly；　and　wickedly　ugly　women；　children　to　match；　snarling；　filthy　little　curs；　with　a　ready　beggar's　whine　on　occasion。　　A　gipsy　encampment　to…day　is　little　more　than　a　moving　slum；　a　scab　of　squalor　on　the　fair　face　of　the　countryside。

But　there　was　one　little　trifle　of　an　incident　that　touched　me　as　I　passed　this　particular　caravan。　　Evidently　one　of　the　vans　had　come　to　grief；　and　several　men　of　the　party　were　making　a　great　show　of　repairing　it。　　After　I　had　run　the　gauntlet　of　the　begging　children；　and　was　just　out　of　ear…　shot　of　the　group；　I　turned　round　to　survey　it　from　a　distance。　　It　was　encamped　on　a　slight　rise　of　the　undulating　road；　and　from　where　I　stood　tents　and　vans　and　men　were　clearly　silhouetted　against　the　sky。　　The　road　ran　through　and　a　little　higher　than　the　encampment；　which　occupied　both　sides　of　it。　　Presently　the　figure　of　a　young　man　separated　itself　from　the　rest；　stept　up　on　to　the　smooth　road；　and　standing　in　the　middle　of　it；　in　an　absorbed　attitude；　began　to　make　a　movement　with　his　hands　as　though　winding　string　round　a　top。　　That　in　fact　was　his　occupation；　and　for　the　next　five　minutes　he　kept　thus　winding　the　cord；　flinging　the　top　to　the　ground；　and　intently　bending　down　to　catch　it　on　his　hand；　none　of　the　others；　not　even　the　children；　taking　the　slightest　notice　of　him；he　entirely　alone　there　with　his　poor　little　pleasure。　　There　seemed　to　me　pathos　in　his　loneliness。　　Had　some　one　spun　the　top　with　him；　it　would　have　vanished；　and　presently；　no　doubt　at　the　bidding　of　an　oath　I　could　not　hear；　he　hurriedly　thrust　the　top　into　his　pocket；　and　once　more　joined　the　straining　group　of　men。　　The　snatched　pleasure　must　be　put　by　at　the　call　of　reality；　the　world　and　its　work　must　rush　in　upon　his　dream。　　I　have　often　thought　about　the　top　and　its　spinner；　as　I　have　noted　the　absorbed　faces　of　other　people's　pleasures　in　the　streets；two　lovers　passing　along　the　crowded　Strand　with　eyes　only　for　each　other；　a　student　deep　in　his　book　in　the　corner　of　an　omnibus；　a　young　mother　glowing　over　the　child　in　her　arms；　the　wild…eyed　musician　dreamily　treading　on　everybody's　toes；　and　begging　nobody's　pardon；　the　pretty　little　Gaiety　Girl　hurrying　to　rehearsal　with　no　thought　but　of　her　own　sweet　self　and　whether　there　will　be　a　letter　from　Harry　at　the　stage…　door；yes；　if　we　are　alone　in　our　griefs；　we　are　no　less　alone　in　our　pleasures。　　We　spin　our　tops　as　in　an　enchanted　circle；　and　no　one　sees　or　heeds　save　ourselves；as　how　should　they　with　their　own　tops　to　spin？　Happy　indeed　is　he；　who　has　his　top　and　cares　still　to　spin　it；　for　to　be　tired　of　our　tops　is　to　be　tired　of　life；　saith　the　preacher。

As　the　young　gipsy's　little　holiday　came　to　an　end；　I　turned　with　a　sigh　upon　my　way；　and　here；　while　still　on　the　subject；　may　I　remark　on　the　curious　fact　that　probably　Borrow　has　lived　and　died　without　a　single　gipsy　having　heard　of　him；　just　as　the　expertest　anglers　know　nothing　of　Izaak　Walton。

Has　the　British　soldier；　one　wonders；　yet　discovered　Rudyard　Kipling；　or　is　the　Wessex　peasant　aware　of　Thomas　Hardy？　It　is　odd　to　think　that　the　last　people　to　read　such　authors　are　the　very　people　they　most　concern。　　For　you　might　spend　your　life；　say；　in　studying　the　London　street　boy；　and　write　never　so　movingly　and　humourously　about　him；　yet　would　he　never　know　your　name；　and　though　Whitechapel　makes　novelists；　it　does　so　without　knowing　it；makes　them　to　be　read　in　Mayfair；just　as　it　never　wears　the　dainty　hats　and　gowns　its　weary　little　milliners　and　seamstresses　make　through　the　day　and　night。　　It　is　Capital　and　Labour　over　again；　for　in　literature　also　we　reap　in　gladness　what　others　have　sown　in　tears。

And　now；　after　these　admirable　reflections；　I　am　about　to　make　such　〃art〃　as　I　can　of　another　man's　tragedy；　as　will　appear　in　the　next　chapter。



CHAPTER　XIII


A　STRANGE　WEDDING

My　moralisings　were　cut　short　by　my　entering　a　village；　and；　it　being　about　the　hour　of　noon；　finding　myself　in　the　thick　of　a　village　wedding。

Undoubtedly　the　nicest　way　to　get　married　is　on　the　sly；　and　indeed　it　is　at　present　becoming　quite　fashionable。　　Many　young　couples　of　my　acquaintance；　who　have　had　no　other　reason　for　concealing　the　fact　beyond　their　own　whim；　have　thus　slipped　off　without　saying　a　word　to　anybody；　and　returned　full…blown　housekeepers；　with　〃at　home〃　days　of　their　own；　and　everything　else　like　real　married　people；for；　as　said　an　old　lady　to　me；　〃one　can　never　be　sure　of　married　people　nowadays　unless　you　have　been　at　the　wedding。〃

My　friend　George　Muncaster；　who　does　everything　charmingly　different　from　any　one　else；　hit　upon　one　of　the　quaintest　plans　for　his　marriage。　　It　was　simple；　and　some　may　say　prosaic　enough。　　His　days　being　spent　at　a　great　office　in　the　city；　he　got　leave　of　absence　for　a　couple　of　hours；　met　his　wife；　went　with　her　to　the　registrar's；　returned　to　his　office；　worked　the　rest　of　the　day　as　usual；　and　then　went　to　his　new　home　to　find　his　wife　and　dinner　awaiting　him；all　just　as　it　was　going　to　be　every　night　for　so　many　happy　years。　　Prosaic；　you　say！　Not　your　idea　of　poetry；　perhaps；　but；　after　a　new　and　growing　fashion　in　poetry；　truly　poetic。　　George　Muncaster's　marriage　is　a　type　of　the　new　poetry；　the　poetry　of　essentials。　The　old　poetry；　as　exemplified　in　the　old…fashioned　marriage；　is　a　poetry　of　externals；　and　certainly　it　has　the　advantage　of　picturesqueness。

There　is　perhaps　more　to　be　said　for　it　than　that。　　Indeed；　if　I　were　ever　to　get　married；　I　am　at　a　loss　to　know　which　way　I　should　choose；George　Muncaster's　way　or　the　old　merry　fashion；　with　the　rice　and　the　old　shoes　and　the　orange…blossom。　　No　doubt　the　old　cheery　publicity　is　a　little　embarrassing　to　the　two　most　concerned；　and　the　old　marriage　customs；　the　singing　of　the　bride　and　bridegroom　to　their　nuptial　couch；　the　frank　jests；　the　country　horse…play；　must　have　fretted　the　souls　of　many　a　lover　before　Shelley；　who；　it　will　be　remembered；　resented　the　choral　celebrations　of　his　Scotch　landlord　and　friends　by　appearing　at　his　bedroom　door　with　a　brace　of　pistols。

How　like　Shelley！　　The　Scotch　landlord　meant　well；　we　may　be　sure；　and　a　very　small　pinch　of　humour；　or　even　mere　ordinary　humanity；　as　distinct　from　humanitarianism；　would　have　taken　in　the　situation。　Of　course　Shelley's　mind　was　full　of　the　sanctity　of　the　moment；　and　indignant　that　〃the　hour　for　which　the　years　did　sigh〃　should　thus　be　broken　in　upon　by　vulgar　revelry；　but　while　we　may　sympathise　with　his　view；　and　admit　to　the　full　the　sacredness；　not　to　say　the　solemnity；　of　the　marriage　ceremony；　yet　it　is　to　be　hoped　that　it　still　retains　a　naturally　mirthful　side；　of　which　such　public　merriment　is　but　the　crude　expression。

With　all　its　sweet　and　mystical　significance；　surely　the　prevailing　feeling　in　the　hearts　of　bride　and　bridegroom　is；　or　should　be；　that　of　happiness；happiness　bubbling　and　dancing；　all　sunny　ripples　from　heart　to　heart。

Surely　they　can　spare　a　little　of　it；　just　one　day's　sight　of　it；　to　a　less　happy　world；a　world　long　since　married　and　done　for；　and　with　little　happiness　in　it　save　the　spectacle　of　other　people's　happiness。　　It　is　good　for　us　to　see　happy　people；　good　for　the　symbols　of　happiness　to　be　carried　high　amidst　us　on　occasion；　for　if　they　serve　no　other　purpose；　they　inspire　in　us　the　hope　that　we　too　may　some　day　be　happy；　or　remind　our　discontented　hearts　that　we　have　been。

If　it　were　only　for　the　sake　of　those　quaint　old　women　for　whom　life　would　be　entirely　robbed　of　interest　were　it　not　for　other　people's　weddings　and　funerals；　one　feels　the　public　ceremony　of　marriage　a　sort　of　public　duty；　the　happiness　tax；　so　to　say；　due　to　the　somewhat　impoverished　revenues　of　public　happiness。　　Other　forms　of　happiness　are　taxed；　why　not　marriage？

In　a　village；　particularly；　two　people　who　robbed　the　community　of　its　perquisites　in　this　respect　would　be　looked　upon　as　〃enemies　of　the　people；〃　and　their　joint　life　would　begin　under　a　social　ban　which　it　would　cost　much　subsequent　hospitality　to　remove。　　The　dramatic　instinct　to　which　the　life　of　towns　is　necessarily　unfavourable；　is　kept　alive　in　the　country　by　the　smallness　of　the　stage　and　the　fewness　of　the　actors。　　A　village　is　an　organism；　conscious　of　its　several　parts；　as　a　town　is　not。

In　a　v