idle ideas in 1905-第20节

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Thinking　of　all　the　people　that　had　died；　I　pictured　the　place
overcrowded。　　Almost　I　felt　sorry　for　the　Devil；　nobody　ever　coming
his　way；　so　to　speak。　　I　saw　him　in　imagination；　a　lonely　old
gentleman；　sitting　at　his　gate　day　after　day；　hoping　against　hope；
muttering　to　himself　maybe　that　it　hardly　seemed　worth　while；　from
his　point　of　view；　keeping　the　show　open。　　An　old　nurse　whom　I　once
took　into　my　confidence　was　sure；　if　I　continued　talking　in　this　sort
of　way；　that　he　would　get　me　anyhow。　　I　must　have　been　an　evil…
hearted　youngster。　　The　thought　of　how　he　would　welcome　me；　the　only
human　being　that　he　had　seen　for　years；　had　a　certain　fascination　for
me；　for　once　in　my　existence　I　should　be　made　a　fuss　about。

At　every　public　meeting　the　chief　speaker　is　always　〃a　jolly　good
fellow。〃　　The　man　from　Mars；　reading　our　newspapers；　would　be
convinced　that　every　Member　of　Parliament　was　a　jovial；　kindly；　high…
hearted；　generous…souled　saint；　with　just　sufficient　humanity　in　him
to　prevent　the　angels　from　carrying　him　off　bodily。　　Do　not　the
entire　audience；　moved　by　one　common　impulse；　declare　him　three　times
running；　and　in　stentorian　voice；　to　be　this　〃jolly　good　fellow〃？　　So
say　all　of　them。　　We　have　always　listened　with　the　most　intense
pleasure　to　the　brilliant　speech　of　our　friend　who　has　just　sat　down。
When　you　thought　we　were　yawning；　we　were　drinking　in　his　eloquence；
open…mouthed。

The　higher　one　ascends　in　the　social　scale；　the　wider　becomes　this
necessary　base　of　make…believe。　　When　anything　sad　happens　to　a　very
big　person；　the　lesser　people　round　about　him　hardly　care　to　go　on
living。　　Seeing　that　the　world　is　somewhat　overstocked　with　persons
of　importance；　and　that　something　or　another　generally　is　happening
to　them；　one　wonders　sometimes　how　it　is　the　world　continues　to
exist。

Once　upon　a　time　there　occurred　an　illness　to　a　certain　good　and
great　man。　　I　read　in　my　daily　paper　that　the　whole　nation　was
plunged　in　grief。　　People　dining　in　public　restaurants；　on　being　told
the　news　by　the　waiter；　dropped　their　heads　upon　the　table　and
sobbed。　　Strangers；　meeting　in　the　street；　flung　their　arms　about　one
another　and　cried　like　little　children。　　I　was　abroad　at　the　time；
but　on　the　point　of　returning　home。　　I　almost　felt　ashamed　to　go。　　I
looked　at　myself　in　the　glass；　and　was　shocked　at　my　own　appearance：
it　was　that　of　a　man　who　had　not　been　in　trouble　for　weeks。　　I　felt
that　to　burst　upon　this　grief…stricken　nation　with　a　countenance　such
as　mine　would　be　to　add　to　their　sorrow。　　It　was　borne　in　upon　me
that　I　must　have　a　shallow；　egotistical　nature。　　I　had　had　luck　with
a　play　in　America；　and　for　the　life　of　me　I　could　not　look　grief…
stricken。　　There　were　moments　when；　if　I　was　not　keeping　a　watch　over
myself；　I　found　myself　whistling。

Had　it　been　possible　I　would　have　remained　abroad　till　some　stroke　of
ill…fortune　had　rendered　me　more　in　tune　with　my　fellow…countrymen。
But　business　was　pressing。　　The　first　man　I　talked　to　on　Dover　pier
was　a　Customs　House　official。　　You　might　have　thought　sorrow　would
have　made　him　indifferent　to　a　mere　matter　of　forty…eight　cigars。
Instead　of　which；　he　appeared　quite　pleased　when　he　found　them。　　He
demanded　three…and…fourpence；　and　chuckled　when　he　got　it。　　On　Dover
platform　a　little　girl　laughed　because　a　lady　dropped　a　handbox　on　a
dog；　but　then　children　are　always　callousor；　perhaps；　she　had　not
heard　the　news。

What　astonished　me　most；　however；　was　to　find　in　the　railway　carriage
a　respectable　looking　man　reading　a　comic　journal。　　True；　he　did　not
laugh　much：　　he　had　got　decency　enough　for　that；　but　what　was　a
grief…stricken　citizen　doing　with　a　comic　journal；　anyhow？　　Before　I
had　been　in　London　an　hour　I　had　come　to　the　conclusion　that　we
English　must　be　a　people　of　wonderful　self…control。　　The　day　before；
according　to　the　newspapers；　the　whole　country　was　in　serious　danger
of　pining　away　and　dying　of　a　broken　heart。　　In　one　day　the　nation
had　pulled　itself　together。　　〃We　have　cried　all　day；〃　they　had　said
to　themselves；　〃we　have　cried　all　night。　　It　does　not　seem　to　have
done　much　good。　　Now　let　us　once　again　take　up　the　burden　of　life。〃
Some　of　themI　noticed　it　in　the　hotel　dining…room　that　evening
were　taking　quite　kindly　to　their　food　again。

We　make　believe　about　quite　serious　things。　　In　war；　each　country's
soldiers　are　always　the　most　courageous　in　the　world。　　The　other
country's　soldiers　are　always　treacherous　and　tricky；　that　is　why
they　sometimes　win。　　Literature　is　the　art　of　make…believe。

〃Now　all　of　you　sit　round　and　throw　your　pennies　in　the　cap；〃　says
the　author；　〃and　I　will　pretend　that　there　lives　in　Bayswater　a　young
lady　named　Angelina；　who　is　the　most　beautiful　young　lady　that　ever
existed。　　And　in　Notting　Hill；　we　will　pretend；　there　resides　a　young
man　named　Edwin；　who　is　in　love　with　Angelina。〃

And　then；　there　being　sufficient　pennies　in　the　cap；　the　author
starts　away；　and　pretends　that　Angelina　thought　this　and　said　that；
and　that　Edwin　did　all　sorts　of　wonderful　things。　　We　know　he　is
making　it　all　up　as　he　goes　along。　　We　know　he　is　making　up　just　what
he　thinks　will　please　us。　　He；　on　the　other　hand；　has　to　make…believe
that　he　is　doing　it　because　he　cannot　help　it；　he　being　an　artist。
But　we　know　well　enough　that；　were　we　to　stop　throwing　the　pennies
into　the　cap；　he　would　find　out　precious　soon　that　he　could。

The　theatrical　manager　bangs　his　drum。

〃Walk　up！　walk　up！〃　he　cries；　〃we　are　going　to　pretend　that　Mrs。
Johnson　is　a　princess；　and　old　man　Johnson　is　going　to　pretend　to　be
a　pirate。　　Walk　up；　walk　up；　and　be　in　time！〃

So　Mrs。　Johnson；　pretending　to　be　a　princess；　comes　out　of　a　wobbly
thing　that　we　agree　to　pretend　is　a　castle；　and　old　man　Johnson；
pretending　to　be　a　pirate；　is　pushed　up　and　down　on　another　wobbly
thing　that　we　agree　to　pretend　is　the　ocean。　　Mrs。　Johnson　pretends
to　be　in　love　with　him；　which　we　know　she　is　not。　　And　Johnson
pretends　to　be　a　very　terrible　person；　and　Mrs。　Johnson　pretends；
till　eleven　o'clock；　to　believe　it。　　And　we　pay　prices；　varying　from
a　shilling　to　half…a…sovereign；　to　sit　for　two　hours　and　listen　to
them。

But　as　I　explained　at　the　beginning；　my　friend　is　a　mad　sort　of
person。



IS　THE　AMERICAN　HUSBAND　MADE　ENTIRELY　OF　STAINED　GLASS。



I　am　glad　I　am　not　an　American　husband。　　At　first　sight　this　may
appear　a　remark　uncomplimentary　to　the　American　wife。　　It　is　nothing
of　the　sort。　　It　is　the　other　way　about。　　We；　in　Europe；　have　plenty
of　opportunity　of　judging　the　American　wife。　　In　America　you　hear　of
the　American　wife；　you　are　told　stories　about　the　American　wife；　you
see　her　portrait　in　the　illustrated　journals。　　By　searching　under　the
heading　〃Foreign　Intelligence；〃　you　can　find　out　what　she　is　doing。
But　here　in　Europe　we　know　her；　meet　her　face　to　face；　talk　to　her；
flirt　with　her。　　She　is　charming；　delightful。　　That　is　why　I　say　I　am
glad　I　am　not　an　American　husband。　　If　the　American　husband　only　knew
how　nice　was　the　American　wife；　he　would　sell　his　business　and　come
over　here；　where　now　and　then　he　could　see　her。

Years　ago；　when　I　first　began　to　travel　about　Europe；　I　argued　to
myself　that　America　must　be　a　deadly　place　to　live　in。　　How　sad　it
is；　I　thought　to　myself；　to　meet　thus；　wherever　one　goes；　American
widows　by　the　thousand。　　In　one　narrow　by…street　of　Dresden　I
calculated　fourteen　American　mothers；　possessing　nine…and…twenty
American　children；　and　not　a　father　among　themnot　a　single　husband
among　the　whole　fourteen。　　I　pictured　fourteen　lonely　graves；
scattered　over　the　United　States。　　I　saw　as　in　a　vision　those
fourteen　head…stones　of　best　material；　hand…carved；　recording　the
virtues　of　those　fourteen　dead　and　buried　husbands。

Odd；　thought　I　to　myself；　decidedly　odd。　　These　American　husbands；
they　must　be　a　delicate　type　of　humanity。　　The　wonder　is　their
mothers　ever　reared　them。　　They　marry　fine　girls；　the　majority　of
them；　two　or　three　sweet　children　are　born　to　them；　and　after　that
there　appears　to　be　no　further　use　for　them；　as　far　as　this　world　is
concerned。　　Can　nothing　be　done　to　strengthen　their　constitutions？
Would　a　tonic　be　of　any　help　to　them？　　Not　the　customary　tonic；　I
don't　mean；　the　sort　of　tonic　merely　intended　to　make　gouty　old
gentlemen　feel　they　want　to　buy　a　hoop；　but　the　sort　of　tonic　for
which　it　was　claimed　that　three　drops　poured　upon　a　ham　sandwich　and
the　thing　would　begin　to　squeak。

It　struck　me　as　pathetic；　the　picture　of　these　American　widows
leaving　their　native　land；　coming　over　in　shiploads　to　spend　the　rest
of　their　blighted　lives　in　exile。　　The　mere　thought　of　America；　I
took　it；　had　for　ever　become　to　them　distasteful。　　The　ground　that
once　his　feet　had　pressed！　　The　old　familiar　places　once　lighted　by
his　smile！　　Everything　in　America　would　remind　them　of　him。
Snatching　their　babes　to　their　heaving　bosoms　they　would　leave　the
country　where　lay　buried　all　the　joy　of　their　lives；　seek　in　the
retirement　of　Paris；　Florence　or　Vienna；　oblivion　of　the　past。

Also；　it　struck　me　as　beautiful；　the　noble　resignation　with　which
they　bore　their　grief；　hiding　their　sorrow　from　the　i