three men in a boat-第11节
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coronation feast had been too much for him。 Maybe boar's head stuffed
with sugar…plums did not agree with him (it wouldn't with me; I know);
and he had had enough of sack and mead; so he slipped from the noisy
revel to steal a quiet moonlight hour with his beloved Elgiva。
Perhaps; from the casement; standing hand…in…hand; they were watching the
calm moonlight on the river; while from the distant halls the boisterous
revelry floated in broken bursts of faint…heard din and tumult。
Then brutal Odo and St。 Dunstan force their rude way into the quiet room;
and hurl coarse insults at the sweet…faced Queen; and drag poor Edwy back
to the loud clamour of the drunken brawl。
Years later; to the crash of battle…music; Saxon kings and Saxon revelry
were buried side by side; and Kingston's greatness passed away for a
time; to rise once more when Hampton Court became the palace of the
Tudors and the Stuarts; and the royal barges strained at their moorings
on the river's bank; and bright…cloaked gallants swaggered down the
water…steps to cry: 〃What Ferry; ho! Gadzooks; gramercy。〃
Many of the old houses; round about; speak very plainly of those days
when Kingston was a royal borough; and nobles and courtiers lived there;
near their King; and the long road to the palace gates was gay all day
with clanking steel and prancing palfreys; and rustling silks and
velvets; and fair faces。 The large and spacious houses; with their
oriel; latticed windows; their huge fireplaces; and their gabled roofs;
breathe of the days of hose and doublet; of pearl…embroidered stomachers;
and complicated oaths。 They were upraised in the days 〃when men knew how
to build。〃 The hard red bricks have only grown more firmly set with
time; and their oak stairs do not creak and grunt when you try to go down
them quietly。
Speaking of oak staircases reminds me that there is a magnificent carved
oak staircase in one of the houses in Kingston。 It is a shop now; in the
market…place; but it was evidently once the mansion of some great
personage。 A friend of mine; who lives at Kingston; went in there to buy
a hat one day; and; in a thoughtless moment; put his hand in his pocket
and paid for it then and there。
The shopman (he knows my friend) was naturally a little staggered at
first; but; quickly recovering himself; and feeling that something ought
to be done to encourage this sort of thing; asked our hero if he would
like to see some fine old carved oak。 My friend said he would; and the
shopman; thereupon; took him through the shop; and up the staircase of
the house。 The balusters were a superb piece of workmanship; and the
wall all the way up was oak…panelled; with carving that would have done
credit to a palace。
From the stairs; they went into the drawing…room; which was a large;
bright room; decorated with a somewhat startling though cheerful paper of
a blue ground。 There was nothing; however; remarkable about the
apartment; and my friend wondered why he had been brought there。 The
proprietor went up to the paper; and tapped it。 It gave forth a wooden
sound。
〃Oak;〃 he explained。 〃All carved oak; right up to the ceiling; just the
same as you saw on the staircase。〃
〃But; great Caesar! man;〃 expostulated my friend; 〃you don't mean to say
you have covered over carved oak with blue wall…paper?〃
〃Yes;〃 was the reply: 〃it was expensive work。 Had to match…board it all
over first; of course。 But the room looks cheerful now。 It was awful
gloomy before。〃
I can't say I altogether blame the man (which is doubtless a great relief
to his mind)。 From his point of view; which would be that of the average
householder; desiring to take life as lightly as possible; and not that
of the old…curiosity…shop maniac; there is reason on his side。 Carved
oak is very pleasant to look at; and to have a little of; but it is no
doubt somewhat depressing to live in; for those whose fancy does not lie
that way。 It would be like living in a church。
No; what was sad in his case was that he; who didn't care for carved oak;
should have his drawing…room panelled with it; while people who do care
for it have to pay enormous prices to get it。 It seems to be the rule of
this world。 Each person has what he doesn't want; and other people have
what he does want。
Married men have wives; and don't seem to want them; and young single
fellows cry out that they can't get them。 Poor people who can hardly
keep themselves have eight hearty children。 Rich old couples; with no
one to leave their money to; die childless。
Then there are girls with lovers。 The girls that have lovers never want
them。 They say they would rather be without them; that they bother them;
and why don't they go and make love to Miss Smith and Miss Brown; who are
plain and elderly; and haven't got any lovers? They themselves don't
want lovers。 They never mean to marry。
It does not do to dwell on these things; it makes one so sad。
There was a boy at our school; we used to call him Sandford and Merton。
His real name was Stivvings。 He was the most extraordinary lad I ever
came across。 I believe he really liked study。 He used to get into awful
rows for sitting up in bed and reading Greek; and as for French irregular
verbs there was simply no keeping him away from them。 He was full of
weird and unnatural notions about being a credit to his parents and an
honour to the school; and he yearned to win prizes; and grow up and be a
clever man; and had all those sorts of weak…minded ideas。 I never knew
such a strange creature; yet harmless; mind you; as the babe unborn。
Well; that boy used to get ill about twice a week; so that he couldn't go
to school。 There never was such a boy to get ill as that Sandford and
Merton。 If there was any known disease going within ten miles of him; he
had it; and had it badly。 He would take bronchitis in the dog…days; and
have hay…fever at Christmas。 After a six weeks' period of drought; he
would be stricken down with rheumatic fever; and he would go out in a
November fog and come home with a sunstroke。
They put him under laughing…gas one year; poor lad; and drew all his
teeth; and gave him a false set; because he suffered so terribly with
toothache; and then it turned to neuralgia and ear…ache。 He was never
without a cold; except once for nine weeks while he had scarlet fever;
and he always had chilblains。 During the great cholera scare of 1871;
our neighbourhood was singularly free from it。 There was only one
reputed case in the whole parish: that case was young Stivvings。
He had to stop in bed when he was ill; and eat chicken and custards and
hot…house grapes; and he would lie there and sob; because they wouldn't
let him do Latin exercises; and took his German grammar away from him。
And we other boys; who would have sacrificed ten terms of our school…life
for the sake of being ill for a day; and had no desire whatever to give
our parents any excuse for being stuck…up about us; couldn't catch so
much as a stiff neck。 We fooled about in draughts; and it did us good;
and freshened us up; and we took things to make us sick; and they made us
fat; and gave us an appetite。 Nothing we could think of seemed to make
us ill until the holidays began。 Then; on the breaking…up day; we caught
colds; and whooping cough; and all kinds of disorders; which lasted till
the term recommenced; when; in spite of everything we could manoeuvre to
the contrary; we would get suddenly well again; and be better than ever。
Such is life; and we are but as grass that is cut down; and put into the
oven and baked。
To go back to the carved…oak question; they must have had very fair
notions of the artistic and the beautiful; our great…great…grandfathers。
Why; all our art treasures of to…day are only the dug…up commonplaces of
three or four hundred years ago。 I wonder if there is real intrinsic
beauty in the old soup…plates; beer…mugs; and candle…snuffers that we
prize so now; or if it is only the halo of age glowing around them that
gives them their charms in our eyes。 The 〃old blue〃 that we hang about
our walls as ornaments were the common every…day household utensils of a
few centuries ago; and the pink shepherds and the yellow shepherdesses
that we hand round now for all our friends to gush over; and pretend they
understand; were the unvalued mantel…ornaments that the mother of the
eighteenth century would have given the baby to suck when he cried。
Will it be the same in the future? Will the prized treasures of to…day
always be the cheap trifles of the day before? Will rows of our willow…
pattern dinner…plates be ranged above the chimneypieces of the great in
the years 2000 and odd? Will the white cups with the gold rim and the
beautiful gold flower inside