the idle thoughts of an idle fellow[1].(一个浪子的随想)-第6章
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the candle； and jump into bed as if you had backed yourself for a heavy
wager to do the whole thing against time。 There you toss and tumble about
for a couple of hours or so； varying the monotony by occasionally jerking
the clothes off and getting out and putting them on again。 At length you
drop into an uneasy and fitful slumber； have bad dreams； and wake up late
the next morning。
At least； this is all we poor single men can do under the circumstances。
Married men bully their wives； grumble at the dinner； and insist on the
children's going to bed。 All of which； creating； as it does； a good deal of
disturbance in the house； must be a great relief to the feelings of a man in
the blues； rows being the only form of amusement in which he can take
any interest。
The symptoms of the infirmity are much the same in every case； but
the affliction itself is variously termed。 The poet says that 〃a feeling of
sadness comes o'er him。〃 'Arry refers to the heavings of his wayward heart
by confiding to Jimee that he has 〃got the blooming hump。〃 Your sister
doesn't know what is the matter with her to…night。 She feels out of sorts
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THE IDLE THOUGHTS OF AN IDLE FELLOW。
altogether and hopes nothing is going to happen。 The every…day young
man is 〃so awful glad to meet you； old fellow；〃 for he does 〃feel so jolly
miserable this evening。〃 As for myself； I generally say that 〃I have a
strange； unsettled feeling to…night〃 and 〃think I'll go out。〃
By the way； it never does come except in the evening。 In the sun…time；
when the world is bounding forward full of life； we cannot stay to sigh and
sulk。 The roar of the working day drowns the voices of the elfin sprites
that are ever singing their low…toned _miserere_ in our ears。 In the day we
are angry； disappointed； or indignant； but never 〃in the blues〃 and never
melancholy。 When things go wrong at ten o'clock in the morning weor
rather youswear and knock the furniture about； but if the misfortune
comes at ten P。M。； we read poetry or sit in the dark and think what a
hollow world this is。
But； as a rule； it is not trouble that makes us melancholy。 The actuality
is too stern a thing for sentiment。 We linger to weep over a picture； but
from the original we should quickly turn our eyes away。 There is no pathos
in real misery： no luxury in real grief。 We do not toy with sharp swords
nor hug a gnawing fox to our breast for choice。 When a man or woman
loves to brood over a sorrow and takes care to keep it green in their
memory； you may be sure it is no longer a pain to them。 However they
may have suffered from it at first； the recollection has become by then a
pleasure。 Many dear old ladies who daily look at tiny shoes lying in
lavender…scented drawers； and weep as they think of the tiny feet whose
toddling march is done； and sweet…faced young ones who place each night
beneath their pillow some lock that once curled on a boyish head that the
salt waves have kissed to death； will call me a nasty cynical brute and say
I'm talking nonsense； but I believe； nevertheless； that if they will ask
themselves truthfully whether they find it unpleasant to dwell thus on their
sorrow； they will be compelled to answer 〃No。〃 Tears are as sweet as
laughter to some natures。 The proverbial Englishman； we know from old
chronicler Froissart； takes his pleasures sadly； and the Englishwoman goes
a step further and takes her pleasures in sadness itself。
I am not sneering。 I would not for a moment sneer at anything that
helps to keep hearts tender in this hard old world。 We men are cold and
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THE IDLE THOUGHTS OF AN IDLE FELLOW。
common…sensed enough for all； we would not have women the same。 No；
no； ladies dear； be always sentimental and soft…hearted； as you arebe the
soothing butter to our coarse dry bread。 Besides； sentiment is to women
what fun is to us。 They do not care for our humor； surely it would be unfair
to deny them their grief。 And who shall say that their mode of enjoyment
is not as sensible as ours？ Why assume that a doubled…up body； a
contorted； purple face； and a gaping mouth emitting a series of ear…
splitting shrieks point to a state of more intelligent happiness than a
pensive face reposing upon a little white hand； and a pair of gentle tear…
dimmed eyes looking back through Time's dark avenue upon a fading
past？
I am glad when I see Regret walked with as a friendglad because I
know the saltness has been washed from out the tears； and that the sting
must have been plucked from the beautiful face of Sorrow ere we dare
press her pale lips to ours。 Time has laid his healing hand upon the wound
when we can look back upon the pain we once fainted under and no
bitterness or despair rises in our hearts。 The burden is no longer heavy
when we have for our past troubles only the same sweet mingling of
pleasure and pity that we feel when old knight…hearted Colonel Newcome
answers 〃_adsum_〃 to the great roll…call； or when Tom and Maggie
Tulliver； clasping hands through the mists that have divided them； go
down； locked in each other's arms； beneath the swollen waters of the
Floss。
Talking of poor Tom and Maggie Tulliver brings to my mind a saying
of George Eliot's in connection with this subject of melancholy。 She
speaks somewhere of the 〃sadness of a summer's evening。〃 How
wonderfully truelike everything that came from that wonderful penthe
observation is！ Who has not felt the sorrowful enchantment of those
lingering sunsets？ The world belongs to Melancholy then； a thoughtful
deep…eyed maiden who loves not the glare of day。 It is not till 〃light
thickens and the crow wings to the rocky wood〃 that she steals forth from
her groves。 Her palace is in twilight land。 It is there she meets us。 At her
shadowy gate she takes our hand in hers and walks beside us through her
mystic realm。 We see no form； but seem to hear the rustling of her wings。
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THE IDLE THOUGHTS OF AN IDLE FELLOW。
Even in the toiling hum…drum city her spirit comes to us。 There is a
somber presence in each long； dull street； and the dark river creeps
ghostlike under the black arches； as if bearing some hidden secret beneath
its muddy waves。
In the silent country； when the trees and hedges loom dim and blurred
against the rising night； and the bat's wing flutters in our face； and the
land…rail's cry sounds drearily across the fields； the spell sinks deeper still
into our hearts。 We seem in that hour to be standing by some unseen death…
bed； and in the swaying of the elms we hear the sigh of the dying day。
A solemn sadness reigns。 A great peace is around us。 In its light our
cares of the working day grow small and trivial； and bread and cheeseay；
and even kissesdo not seem the only things worth striving for。 Thoughts
we cannot speak but only listen to flood in
