idle ideas in 1905-第4节

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matrimonial　column：

〃A　lady；　young；　said　to　be　good…looking〃she　herself　is　not　sure　on
the　point；　she　feels　that　possibly　she　may　be　prejudiced；　she　puts
before　you　merely　the　current　gossip　of　the　neighbourhood；　people　say
she　is　beautiful；　they　may　be　right；　they　may　be　wrong：　　it　is　not
for　her　to　decide〃well…educated；　of　affectionate　disposition；
possessed　of　means；　desires　to　meet　gentleman　with　a　view　to
matrimony。〃

Immediately　underneath　one　reads　of　a　gentleman　of　twenty…eight；
〃tall；　fair；　considered　agreeable。〃　　Really　the　modesty　of　the
matrimonial　advertiser　teaches　to　us　ordinary　mortals　quite　a
beautiful　lesson。　　I　know　instinctively　that　were　anybody　to　ask　me
suddenly：

〃Do　you　call　yourself　an　agreeable　man？〃　I　should　answer　promptly：

〃An　agreeable　man！　　Of　course　I'm　an　agreeable　man。　　What　silly
questions　you　do　ask！〃　　If　he　persisted　in　arguing　the　matter；
saying：

〃But　there　are　people　who　do　not　consider　you　an　agreeable　man。〃　　I
should　get　angry　with　him。

〃Oh；　they　think　that；　do　they？〃　I　should　say。　　〃Well；　you　tell　them
from　me；　with　my　compliments；　that　they　are　a　set　of　blithering
idiots。　　Not　agreeable！　　You　show　me　the　man　who　says　I'm　not
agreeable。　　I'll　soon　let　him　know　whether　I'm　agreeable　or　not。〃

These　young　men　seeking　a　wife　are　silent　on　the　subject　of　their　own
virtues。　　Such　are　for　others　to　discover。　　The　matrimonial
advertiser　confines　himself　to　a　simple　statement　of　fact：　　he　is
considered　agreeable。〃

He　is　domestically　inclined；　and　in　receipt　of　a　good　income。　　He　is
desirous　of　meeting　a　lady　of　serious　disposition；　with　view　to
matrimony。　　If　possessed　of　meanswell；　it　is　a　trifle　hardly　worth
considering　one　way　or　the　other。　　He　does　not　insist　upon　it；　on　the
other　hand　he　does　not　exclude　ladies　of　means；　the　main　idea　is
matrimony。

It　is　sad　to　reflect　upon　a　young　lady；　said　to　be　good…looking　（let
us　say　good…looking　and　be　done　with　it：　　a　neighbourhood　does　not
rise　up　and　declare　a　girl　good…looking　if　she　is　not　good…looking；
that　is　only　her　modest　way　of　putting　it）；　let　us　say　a　young　lady；
good…looking；　well…educated；　of　affectionate　dispositionit　is
undeniably　sad　to　reflect　that　such　an　one；　matrimonially　inclined；
should　be　compelled　to　have　recourse　to　the　columns　of　a　matrimonial
journal。　　What　are　the　young　men　in　the　neighbourhood　thinking　of？
What　more　do　they　want？　　Is　it　Venus　come　to　life　again　with　ten
thousand　a　year　that　they　are　waiting　for！　　It　makes　me　angry　with　my
own　sex　reading　these　advertisements。　　And　when　one　thinks　of　the
girls　that　do　get　married！

But　life　is　a　mystery。　　The　fact　remains：　　here　is　the　ideal　wife
seeking　in　vain　for　a　husband。　　And　here；　immediately　underneathI
will　not　say　the　ideal　husband；　he　may　have　faults；　none　of　us　are
perfect；　but　as　men　go　a　decided　acquisition　to　any　domestic　hearth；
an　agreeable　gentleman；　fond　of　home　life；　none　of　your　gad…abouts
calls　aloud　to　the　four　winds　for　a　wifeany　sort　of　a　wife；
provided　she　be　of　a　serious　disposition。　　In　his　despair；　he　has
grown　indifferent　to　all　other　considerations。　　〃Is　there　in　this
world；〃　he　has　said　to　himself；　〃one　unmarried　woman；　willing　to
marry　me；　an　agreeable　man；　in　receipt　of　a　good　income。〃　　Possibly
enough　this　twain　have　passed　one　another　in　the　street；　have　sat
side　by　side　in　the　same　tram…car；　never　guessing；　each　one；　that　the
other　was　the　very　article　of　which　they　were　in　want　to　make　life
beautiful。

Mistresses　in　search　of　a　servant；　not　so　much　with　the　idea　of
getting　work　out　of　her；　rather　with　the　object　of　making　her　happy；
advertise　on　one　page。　　On　the　opposite　page；　domestic　treasures
disciples　of　Carlyle；　apparently；　with　a　passionate　love　of　work　for
its　own　sakeare　seeking　situations；　not　so　much　with　the　desire　of
gain　as　with　the　hope　of　finding　openings　where　they　may　enjoy　the
luxury　of　feeling　they　are　leading　useful　lives。　　These　philanthropic
mistresses；　these　toil…loving　hand…maidens；　have　lived　side　by　side
in　the　same　town　for　years；　never　knowing　one　another。

So　it　is　with　these　poor　European　peoples。　　They　pass　me　in　the
street。　　They　do　not　guess　that　I　am　ready　and　willing　to　take　them
under　my　care；　to　teach　them　common　sense　with　a　smattering　of
intelligenceto　be；　as　one　might　say；　a　father　to　them。　　They　look
at　me。　　There　is　nothing　about　me　to　tell　them　that　I　know　what　is
good　for　them　better　than　they　do　themselves。　　In　the　fairy　tales　the
wise　man　wore　a　conical　hat　and　a　long　robe　with　twiddly　things　all
round　the　edge。　　You　knew　he　was　a　clever　man。　　It　avoided　the
necessity　of　explanation。　　Unfortunately；　the　fashion　has　gone　out。
We　wise　men　have　to　wear　just　ordinary　clothes。　　Nobody　knows　we　are
wise　men。　　Even　when　we　tell　them　so；　they　don't　believe　it。　　This　it
is　that　makes　our　task　the　more　difficult。

One　of　the　first　things　I　should　take　in　hand；　were　European　affairs
handed　over　to　my　control；　would　be　the　rearrangement　of　the
Carnival。　　As　matters　are；　the　Carnival　takes　place　all　over　Europe
in　February。　　At　Nice；　in　Spain；　or　in　Italy；　it　may　be　occasionally
possible　to　feel　you　want　to　dance　about　the　streets　in　thin　costume
during　February。　　But　in　more　northern　countries　during　Carnival　time
I　have　seen　only　one　sensible　masker；　he　was　a　man　who　had　got
himself　up　as　a　diver。　　It　was　in　Antwerp。　　The　rain　was　pouring　down
in　torrents；　a　cheery；　boisterous　John　Bull　sort　of　an　east　wind　was
blustering　through　the　streets　at　the　rate　of　fifteen　miles　an　hour。
Pierrots；　with　frozen　hands；　were　blowing　blue　noses。　　An　elderly
Cupid　had　borrowed　an　umbrella　from　a　cafe　and　was　waiting　for　a
tram。　　A　very　little　devil　was　crying　with　the　cold；　and　wiping　his
eyes　with　the　end　of　his　own　tail。　　Every　doorway　was　crowded　with
shivering　maskers。　　The　diver　alone　walked　erect；　the　water　streaming
from　him。

February　is　not　the　month　for　open　air　masquerading。　　The　〃confetti；〃
which　has　come　to　be　nothing　but　coloured　paper　cut　into　small　discs；
is　a　sodden　mass。　　When　a　lump　of　it　strikes　you　in　the　eye；　your
instinct　is　not　to　laugh　gaily；　but　to　find　out　the　man　who　threw　it
and　to　hit　him　back。　　This　is　not　the　true　spirit　of　Carnival。　　The
marvel　is　that；　in　spite　of　the　almost　invariably　adverse　weather；
these　Carnivals　still　continue。　　In　Belgium；　where　Romanism　still
remains　the　dominant　religion；　Carnival　maintains　itself　stronger
than　elsewhere　in　Northern　Europe。

At　one　small　town；　Binche；　near　the　French　border；　it　holds
uninterrupted　sway　for　three　days　and　two　nights；　during　which　time
the　whole　of　the　population；　swelled　by　visitors　from　twenty　miles
round；　shouts；　romps；　eats　and　drinks　and　dances。　　After　which　the
visitors　are　packed　like　sardines　into　railway　trains。　　They　pin
their　tickets　to　their　coats　and　promptly　go　to　sleep。　　At　every
station　the　railway　officials　stumble　up　and　down　the　trains　with
lanterns。　　The　last　feeble　effort　of　the　more　wakeful　reveller；
before　he　adds　himself　to　the　heap　of　snoring　humanity　on　the　floor
of　the　railway　carriage；　is　to　change　the　tickets　of　a　couple　of　his
unconscious　companions。　　In　this　way　gentlemen　for　the　east　are
dragged　out　by　the　legs　at　junctions；　and　packed　into　trains　going
west；　while　southern　fathers　are　shot　out　in　the　chill　dawn　at　lonely
northern　stations；　to　find　themselves　greeted　with　enthusiasm　by
other　people's　families。

At　Binche；　they　sayI　have　not　counted　them　myselfthat　thirty
thousand　maskers　can　be　seen　dancing　at　the　same　time。　　When　they　are
not　dancing　they　are　throwing　oranges　at　one　another。　　The　houses
board　up　their　windows。　　The　restaurants　take　down　their　mirrors　and
hide　away　the　glasses。　　If　I　went　masquerading　at　Binche　I　should　go
as　a　man　in　armour；　period　Henry　the　Seventh。

〃Doesn't　it　hurt；〃　I　asked　a　lady　who　had　been　there；　〃having　oranges
thrown　at　you？　　Which　sort　do　they　use；　speaking　generally；　those
fine　juicy　onesJavas　I　think　you　call　themor　the　little　hard
brand　with　skins　like　a　nutmeg…grater？　　And　if　both　sorts　are　used
indiscriminately；　which　do　you　personally　prefer？〃

〃The　smart　people；〃　she　answered；　〃they　are　the　same　everywherethey
must　be　extravagantthey　use　the　Java　orange。　　If　it　hits　you　in　the
back　I　prefer　the　Java　orange。　　It　is　more　messy　than　the　other；　but
it　does　not　leave　you　with　that　curious　sensation　of　having　been
temporarily　stunned。　　Most　people；　of　course；　make　use　of　the　small
hard　orange。　　If　you　duck　in　time；　and　so　catch　it　on　the　top　of　your
head；　it　does　not　hurt　so　much　as　you　would　think。　　If；　however；　it
hits　you　on　a　tender　placewell；　myself；　I　always　find　that　a　little
sal　volatile；　with　old　cognachalf　and　half；　you　understandis
about　the　best　thing。　　But　it　only　happens　once　a　year；〃　she　added。

Nearly　every　town　gives　prizes　for　the　best　group　of　maskers。　　In
some　cases　the　first　prize　amounts　to　as　much　as　two　hundred　pounds。
The　butchers；　the　bakers；　the　candlestick　makers；　join　together　and
compete。　　They　arrive　in　wagons；　each　group　with　its　band。　　Free
trade　is　encouraged。　　Each　neighbouring　town　and　village　〃dumps〃　its
load　of　picturesque　merry…makers。

It　is　in