crome yellow(克罗姆·耶娄)-第31章
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sermon of immediately local interest。 For the past two years the problem
of the War Memorial had exercised the minds of all those in Crome who
had enough leisure； or mental energy； or party spirit to think of such things。
Henry Wimbush was all for a librarya library of local literature； stocked
with county histories； old maps of the district； monographs on the local
antiquities； dialect dictionaries； handbooks of the local geology and
natural history。 He liked to think of the villagers； inspired by such
reading； making up parties of a Sunday afternoon to look for fossils and
flint arrow…heads。 The villagers themselves favoured the idea of a
memorial reservoir and water supply。 But the busiest and most articulate
party followed Mr。 Bodiham in demanding something religious in
charactera second lich…gate； for example； a stained…glass window； a
monument of marble； or； if possible； all three。 So far； however； nothing
had been done； partly because the memorial committee had never been
able to agree； partly for the more cogent reason that too little money had
been subscribed to carry out any of the proposed schemes。 Every three
or four months Mr。 Bodiham preached a sermon on the subject。 His last
had been delivered in March； it was high time that his congregation had a
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fresh reminder。
〃And the cedar of the house within was carved with knops。〃
Mr。 Bodiham touched lightly on Solomon's temple。 From thence he
passed to temples and churches in general。 What were the characteristics
of these buildings dedicated to God？ Obviously； the fact of their； from a
human point of view； complete uselessness。 They were unpractical
buildings 〃carved with knops。〃 Solomon might have built a library
indeed； what could be more to the taste of the world's wisest man？ He
might have dug a reservoirwhat more useful in a parched city like
Jerusalem？ He did neither； he built a house all carved with knops；
useless and unpractical。 Why？ Because he was dedicating the work to
God。 There had been much talk in Crome about the proposed War
Memorial。 A War Memorial was； in its very nature； a work dedicated to
God。 It was a token of thankfulness that the first stage in the culminating
world…war had been crowned by the triumph of righteousness； it was at the
same time a visibly embodied supplication that God might not long delay
the Advent which alone could bring the final peace。 A library； a reservoir？
Mr。 Bodiham scornfully and indignantly condemned the idea。 These
were works dedicated to man； not to God。 As a War Memorial they were
totally unsuitable。 A lich…gate had been suggested。 This was an object
which answered perfectly to the definition of a War Memorial： a useless
work dedicated to God and carved with knops。 One lich…gate； it was true；
already existed。 But nothing would be easier than to make a second
entrance into the churchyard； and a second entrance would need a second
gate。 Other suggestions had been made。 Stained…glass windows； a
monument of marble。 Both these were admirable； especially the latter。 It
was high time that the War Memorial was erected。 It might soon be too
late。 At any moment； like a thief in the night； God might come。
Meanwhile a difficulty stood in the way。 Funds were inadequate。 All
should subscribe according to their means。 Those who had lost relations
in the war might reasonably be expected to subscribe a sum equal to that
which they would have had to pay in funeral expenses if the relative had
died while at home。 Further delay was disastrous。 The War Memorial
must be built at once。 He appealed to the patriotism and the Christian
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sentiments of all his hearers。
Henry Wimbush walked home thinking of the books he would present
to the War Memorial Library； if ever it came into existence。 He took the
path through the fields； it was pleasanter than the road。 At the first stile a
group of village boys； loutish young fellows all dressed in the hideous ill…
fitting black which makes a funeral of every English Sunday and holiday；
were assembled； drearily guffawing as they smoked their cigarettes。
They made way for Henry Wimbush； touching their caps as he passed。
He returned their salute； his bowler and face were one in their unruffled
gravity。
In Sir Ferdinando's time； he reflected； in the time of his son； Sir Julius；
these young men would have had their Sunday diversions even at Crome；
remote and rustic Crome。 There would have been archery； skittles；
dancingsocial amusements in which they would have partaken as
members of a conscious community。 Now they had nothing； nothing
except Mr。 Bodiham's forbidding Boys' Club and the rare dances and
concerts organised by himself。 Boredom or the urban pleasures of the
county metropolis were the alternatives that presented themselves to these
poor youths。 Country pleasures were no more； they had been stamped out
by the Puritans。
In Manningham's Diary for 1600 there was a queer passage； he
remembered； a very queer passage。 Certain magistrates in Berkshire；
Puritan magistrates； had had wind of a scandal。 One moonlit summer
night they had ridden out with their posse and there； among the hills； they
had come upon a company of men and women； dancing； stark naked；
among the sheepcotes。 The magistrates and their men had ridden their
horses into the crowd。 How self…conscious the poor people must suddenly
have felt； how helpless without their clothes against armed and booted
horsemen！ The dancers were arrested； whipped； gaoled； set in the stocks；
the moonlight dance is never danced again。 What old； earthy； Panic rite
came to extinction here？ he wondered。 Who knows？ perhaps their
ancestors had danced like this in the moonlight ages before Adam and Eve
were so much as thought of。 He liked to think so。 And now it was no
more。 These weary young men； if they wanted to dance； would have to
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bicycle six miles to the town。 The country was desolate； without life of
its own； without indigenous pleasures。 The pious magistrates had
snuffed out for ever a little happy flame that had burned from the
beginning of time。
〃And as on Tullia's tomb one lamp burned clear； Unchanged for fifteen
hundred year。。。〃
He repeated the lines to himself； and was desolated to think of all the
murdered past。
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