idle ideas in 1905-第5节

按键盘上方向键 ← 或 → 可快速上下翻页，按键盘上的 Enter 键可回到本书目录页，按键盘上方向键 ↑ 可回到本页顶部！
————未阅读完？加入书签已便下次继续阅读！


trade　is　encouraged。　　Each　neighbouring　town　and　village　〃dumps〃　its
load　of　picturesque　merry…makers。

It　is　in　these　smaller　towns　that　the　spirit　of　King　Carnival　finds
happiest　expression。　　Almost　every　third　inhabitant　takes　part　in　the
fun。　　In　Brussels　and　the　larger　towns　the　thing　appears　ridiculous。
A　few　hundred　maskers　force　their　way　with　difficulty　through
thousands　of　dull…clad　spectators；　looking　like　a　Spanish　river　in
the　summer　time；　a　feeble　stream；　dribbling　through　acres　of　muddy
bank。　　At　Charleroi；　the　centre　of　the　Belgian　Black　Country；　the
chief　feature　of　the　Carnival　is　the　dancing　of　the　children。　　A
space　is　specially　roped　off　for　them。

If　by　chance　the　sun　is　kind　enough　to　shine；　the　sight　is　a　pretty
one。　　How　they　love　the　dressing　up　and　the　acting；　these　small
mites！　　One　young　hussyshe　could　hardly　have　been　more　than　ten
was　gotten　up　as　a　haughty　young　lady。　　Maybe　some　elder　sister　had
served　as　a　model。　　She　wore　a　tremendous　wig　of　flaxen　hair；　a　hat
that　I　guarantee　would　have　made　its　mark　even　at　Ascot　on　the　Cup
Day；　a　skirt　that　trailed　two　yards　behind　her；　a　pair　of　what　had
once　been　white　kid　gloves；　and　a　blue　silk　parasol。　　Dignity！　　I
have　seen　the　offended　barmaid；　I　have　met　the　chorus　girlnot　by
appointment；　please　don't　misunderstand　me；　merely　as　a　spectatorup
the　river　on　Sunday。　　But　never　have　I　witnessed　in　any　human　being
so　much　hauteur　to　the　pound　avoir…dupois　as　was　carried　through　the
streets　of　Charleroi　by　that　small　brat。　　Companions　of　other　days；
mere　vulgar　boys　and　girls；　claimed　acquaintance　with　her。　　She
passed　them　with　a　stare　of　such　utter　disdain　that　it　sent　them
tumbling　over　one　another　backwards。　　By　the　time　they　had　recovered
themselves　sufficiently　to　think　of　an　old　tin　kettle　lying　handy　in
the　gutter　she　had　turned　the　corner。

Two　miserably　clad　urchins；　unable　to　scrape　together　the　few　sous
necessary　for　the　hire　of　a　rag　or　two；　had　nevertheless　determined
not　to　be　altogether　out　of　it。　　They　had　managed　to　borrow　a　couple
of　white　blousesnot　what　you　would　understand　by　a　white　blouse；
dear　Madame；　a　dainty　thing　of　frills　and　laces；　but　the　coarse　white
sack　the　street　sweeper　wears　over　his　clothes。　　They　had　also
borrowed　a　couple　of　brooms。　　Ridiculous　little　objects　they　looked；
the　tiny　head　of　each　showing　above　the　great　white　shroud　as　gravely
they　walked；　the　one　behind　the　other；　sweeping　the　mud　into　the
gutter。　　They　also　were　of　the　Carnival；　playing　at　being　scavengers。

Another　quaint　sight　I　witnessed。　　The　〃serpentin〃　is　a　feature　of
the　Belgian　Carnival。　　It　is　a　strip　of　coloured　paper；　some　dozen
yards　long；　perhaps。　　You　fling　it　as　you　would　a　lassoo；　entangling
the　head　of　some　passer…by。　　Naturally；　the　object　most　aimed　at　by
the　Belgian　youth　is　the　Belgian　maiden。　　And；　naturally　also；　the
maiden　who　finds　herself　most　entangled　is　the　maiden　whoto　use
again　the　language　of　the　matrimonial　advertiser〃is　considered
good…looking。〃　　The　serpentin　about　her　head　is　the　〃feather　in　her
cap〃　of　the　Belgian　maiden　on　Carnival　Day。　　Coming　suddenly　round
the　corner　I　almost　ran　into　a　girl。　　Her　back　was　towards　me。　　It
was　a　quiet　street。　　She　had　half　a　dozen　of　these　serpentins。
Hurriedly；　with　trembling　hands；　she　was　twisting　them　round　and
round　her　own　head。　　I　looked　at　her　as　I　passed。　　She　flushed
scarlet。　　Poor　little　snub…nosed　pasty…faced　woman！　　I　wish　she　had
not　seen　me。　　I　could　have　bought　sixpenny…worth；　followed　her；　and
tormented　her　with　them；　while　she　would　have　pretended　indignation
sought；　discreetly；　to　escape　from　me。

Down　South；　where　the　blood　flows　quicker；　King　Carnival　is；　indeed；
a　jolly　old　soul。　　In　Munich　he　reigns　for　six　weeks；　the　end　coming
with　a　mad　two　days　revel　in　the　streets。　　During　the　whole　of　the
period；　folks　in　ordinary；　every…day　costume　are　regarded　as
curiosities；　people　wonder　what　they　are　up　to。　　From　the　Grafin　to
the　Dienstmadchen；　from　the　Herr　Professor　to　the　〃Piccolo；〃　as　they
term　the　small　artist　that　answers　to　our　page　boy；　the　business　of
Munich　is　dancing；　somewhere；　somehow；　in　a　fancy　costume。　　Every
theatre　clears　away　the　stage；　every　cafe　crowds　its　chairs　and
tables　into　corners；　the　very　streets　are　cleared　for　dancing。
Munich　goes　mad。

Munich　is　always　a　little　mad。　　The　maddest　ball　I　ever　danced　at　was
in　Munich。　　I　went　there　with　a　Harvard　University　professor。　　He　had
been　told　what　these　balls　were　like。　　Ever　seeking　knowledge　of　all
things；　he　determined　to　take　the　matter　up　for　himself　and　examine
it。　　The　writer　also　must　ever　be　learning。　　I　agreed　to　accompany
him。　　We　had　not　intended　to　dance。　　Our　idea　was　that　we　could　be
indulgent　spectators；　regarding　from　some　coign　of　vantage　the　antics
of　the　foolish　crowd。　　The　professor　was　clad　as　became　a　professor。
Myself；　I　wore　a　simply…cut　frock…coat；　with　trousering　in　French
grey。　　The　doorkeeper　explained　to　us　that　this　was　a　costume　ball；
he　was　sorry；　but　gentlemen　could　only　be　admitted　in　evening　dress
or　in　masquerade。

It　was　half　past　one　in　the　morning。　　We　had　sat　up　late　on　purpose；
we　had　gone　without　our　dinner；　we　had　walked　two　miles。　　The
professor　suggested　pinning　up　the　tails　of　his　clerically…cut　coat
and　turning　in　his　waistcoat。　　The　doorkeeper　feared　it　would　not　be
quite　the　same　thing。　　Besides；　my　French　grey　trousers　refused　to
adapt　themselves。　　The　doorkeeper　proposed　our　hiring　a　costumea
little　speculation　of　his　own；　gentlemen　found　it　simpler　sometimes；
especially　married　gentlemen；　to　hire　a　costume　in　this　manner；
changing　back　into　sober　garments　before　returning　home。　　It　reduced
the　volume　of　necessary　explanation。

〃Have　you　anything；　my　good　man；〃　said　the　professor；　〃anything　that
would　effect　a　complete　disguise？〃

The　doorkeeper　had　the　very　thinga　Chinese　arrangement；　with
combined　mask　and　wig。　　It　fitted　neatly　over　the　head；　and　was
provided　with　a　simple　but　ingenious　piece　of　mechanism　by　means　of
which　much　could　be　done　with　the　pigtail。　　Myself　the　doorkeeper　hid
from　view　under　the　cowl　of　a　Carmelite　monk。

〃I　do　hope　nobody　recognises　us；〃　whispered　my　friend　the　professor
as　we　entered。

I　can　only　hope　sincerely　that　they　did　not。　　I　do　not　wish　to　talk
about　myself。　　That　would　be　egotism。　　But　the　mystery　of　the
professor　troubles　me　to　this　day。　　A　grave；　earnest　gentleman；　the
father　of　a　family；　I　saw　him　with　my　own　eyes　put　that　ridiculous
pasteboard　mask　over　his　head。　　Later　ona　good　deal　later　onI
found　myself　walking　again　with　him　through　silent　star…lit　streets。
Where　he　had　been　in　the　interval；　and　who　then　was　the　strange
creature　under　the　Chinaman's　mask；　will　always　remain　to　me　an
unsolved　problem。



DO　WE　LIE　A…BED　TOO　LATE？



It　was　in　Paris；　many　years　ago；　that　I　fell　by　chance　into　this
habit　of　early　rising。　　My　nightby　reasons　that　I　need　not　enter
intohad　been　a　troubled　one。　　Tired　of　the　hot　bed　that　gave　no
sleep；　I　rose　and　dressed　myself；　crept　down　the　creaking　stairs；
experiencing　the　sensations　of　a　burglar　new　to　his　profession；
unbolted　the　great　door　of　the　hotel；　and　passed　out　into　an　unknown；
silent　city；　bathed　in　a　mysterious　soft　light。　　Since　then；　this
strange　sweet　city　of　the　dawn　has　never　ceased　to　call　to　me。　　It
may　be　in　London；　in　Paris　again；　in　Brussels；　Berlin；　Vienna；　that　I
have　gone　to　sleep；　but　if　perchance　I　wake　before　the　returning　tide
of　human　life　has　dimmed　its　glories　with　the　mists　and　vapours　of
the　noisy　day；　I　know　that　beyond　my　window　blind　the　fairy　city；　as
I　saw　it　first　so　many　years　agothis　city　that　knows　no　tears；　no
sorrow；　through　which　there　creeps　no　evil　thing；　this　city　of　quiet
vistas；　fading　into　hope；　this　city　of　far…off　voices　whispering
peace；　this　city　of　the　dawn　that　still　is　younginvites　me　to　talk
with　it　awhile　before　the　waking　hours　drive　it　before　them；　and　with
a　sigh　it　passes　whence　it　came。

It　is　the　great　city's　one　hour　of　purity；　of　dignity。　　The　very　rag…
picker；　groping　with　her　filthy　hands　among　the　ashes；　instead　of　an
object　of　contempt；　moves　from　door　to　door　an　accusing　Figure；　her
thin　soiled　garments；　her　bent　body；　her　scarred　face；　hideous　with
the　wounds　of　poverty；　an　eloquent　indictment　of　smug　Injustice；
sleeping　behind　its　deaf　shutters。　　Yet　even　into　her　dim　brain　has
sunk　the　peace　that　fills　for　this　brief　hour　the　city。　　This；　too；
shall　have　its　end；　my　sister！　　Men　and　women　were　not　born　to　live
on　the　husks　that　fill　the　pails　outside　the　rich　man's　door。
Courage　a　little　while　longer；　you　and　yours。　　Your　rheumy　eyes　once
were　bright；　your　thin　locks　once　soft　and　wavy；　your　poor　bent　back
once　straight；　and　maybe；　as　they　tell　you　in　their　gilded　churches；
this　bulging　sack　shall　be　lifted　from　your　weary　shoulders；　your
misshapen　limbs　be　straight　again。　　You　pass　not　altogether　unheeded
through　these　empty　streets。　　Not　all　the　eyes　of　the　universe　are
sleeping。

The　little　seamstress；　hurrying　to　her　early　work！　　A　little　later
she　will　be　one　of　the　foolish　crowd；　joining　in　the　foolish
laughter；　in　the　coarse　je