the angel and the author-第15章
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play is wiser。 The battered doll is a princess。 Within the sand
castle dwells an ogre。 It is with imagination that he plays。 His
games have some relation to life。 It is the man only who is content
with this everlasting knocking about of a ball。 The majority of
mankind is doomed to labour so constant； so exhausting； that no
opportunity is given it to cultivate its brain。 Civilization has
arranged that a small privileged minority shall alone enjoy that
leisure necessary to the development of thought。 And what is the
answer of this leisured class？ It is：
〃We will do nothing for the world that feeds us； clothes us； keeps us
in luxury。 We will spend our whole existence knocking balls about；
watching other people knocking balls about； arguing with one another
as to the best means of knocking balls about。〃
＇Is it 〃Playing the Game？〃＇
Is itto use their own jargon〃playing the game？〃
And the queer thing is this over…worked world； that stints itself to
keep them in idleness； approves of the answer。 〃The flannelled
fool；〃 〃The muddied oaf；〃 is the pet of the people； their hero； their
ideal。
But maybe all this is mere jealousy。 Myself； I have never been
clever at knocking balls about。
CHAPTER X
＇Patience and the Waiter。＇
The slowest waiter I know is the British railway refreshment…room
waiter。
His very breathingregular； harmonious； penetrating； instinct as it
is with all the better attributes of a well…preserved grandfather's
clockconveys suggestion of dignity and peace。 He is a huge；
impressive person。 There emanates from him an atmosphere of
Lotusland。 The otherwise unattractive refreshment…room becomes an
oasis of repose amid the turmoil of a fretful world。 All things
conspire to aid him： the ancient joints； ranged side by side like
corpses in a morgue； each one decently hidden under its white muslin
shroud； whispering of death and decay； the dish of dead flies；
thoughtfully placed in the centre of the table； the framed
advertisements extolling the virtues of heavy beers and stouts； of
weird champagnes； emanating from haunted…looking chateaux； situate
if one may judge from the illustrationin the midst of desert lands；
the sleep…inviting buzz of the bluebottles。
The spirit of the place steals over you。 On entering； with a quarter
of an hour to spare； your idea was a cutlet and a glass of claret。
In the face of the refreshment…room waiter； the notion appears
frivolous； not to say un…English。 You order cold beef and pickles；
with a pint of bitter in a tankard。 To win the British waiter's
approval； you must always order beer in a tankard。 The British
waiter； in his ideals； is mediaeval。 There is a Shakespearean touch
about a tankard。 A soapy potato will； of course； be added。
Afterwards a ton of cheese and a basin of rabbit's food floating in
water （the British salad） will be placed before you。 You will work
steadily through the whole； anticipating the somnolence that will
subsequently fall upon you with a certain amount of satisfaction。 It
will serve to dispel the last lingering regret at the reflection that
you will miss your appointment； and suffer thereby serious
inconvenience if not positive loss。 These things are of the world
the noisy； tiresome world you have left without。
To the English traveller； the foreign waiter in the earlier stages of
his career is a burden and a trial。 When he is completewhen he
really can talk English I rejoice in him。 When I object to him is
when his English is worse than my French or German； and when he will；
for his own educational purposes； insist； nevertheless； that the
conversation shall be entirely in English。 I would he came to me
some other time。 I would so much rather make it after dinner or；
say； the next morning。 I hate giving lessons during meal times。
Besides； to a man with feeble digestion； this sort of thing can lead
to trouble。 One waiter I met at an hotel in Dijon knew very little
Englishabout as much as a poll parrot。 The moment I entered the
salle…a…manger he started to his feet。
〃Ah！ You English！〃 he cried。
〃Well； what about us？〃 I answered。 It was during the period of the
Boer War。 I took it he was about to denounce the English nation
generally。 I was looking for something to throw at him。
〃You Englishyou Englishman； yes；〃 he repeated。
And then I understood he had merely intended a question。 I owned up
that I was； and accused him in turn of being a Frenchman。 He
admitted it。 Introductions； as it were； thus over； I thought I would
order dinner。 I ordered it in French。 I am not bragging of my
French； I never wanted to learn French。 Even as a boy； it was more
the idea of others than of myself。 I learnt as little as possible。
But I have learnt enough to live in places where they can't； or
won't； speak anything else。 Left to myself； I could have enjoyed a
very satisfactory dinner。 I was tired with a long day's journey； and
hungry。 They cook well at this hotel。 I had been looking forward to
my dinner for hours and hours。 I had sat down in my imagination to a
consomme bisque； sole au gratin； a poulet saute； and an omelette au
fromage。
＇Waiterkind in the making。＇
It is wrong to let one's mind dwell upon carnal delights； I see that
now。 At the time I was mad about it。 The fool would not even listen
to me。 He had got it into his garlic…sodden brain that all
Englishmen live on beef； and nothing but beef。 He swept aside all my
suggestions as though they had been the prattlings of a foolish
child。
〃You haf nice biftek。 Not at all done。 Yes？〃
〃No； I don't；〃 I answered。 〃I don't want what the cook of a French
provincial hotel calls a biftek。 I want something to eat。 I want〃
Apparently； he understood neither English nor French。
〃Yes； yes；〃 he interrupted cheerfully； 〃with pottitoes。〃
〃With what？〃 I asked。 I thought for the moment he was suggesting
potted pigs' feet in the nearest English he could get to it。
〃Pottito；〃 he repeated； 〃boil pottito。 Yes？ And pell hell。〃
I felt like telling him to go there； I suppose he meant 〃pale ale。〃
It took me about five minutes to get that beefsteak out of his head。
By the time I had done it； I did not care what I had for dinner。 I
took pot…du…jour and veal。 He added； on his own initiative； a thing
that looked like a poultice。 I did not try the taste of it。 He
explained it was 〃plum poodeen。〃 I fancy he had made it himself。
This fellow is typical； you meet him everywhere abroad。 He
translates your bill into English for you； calls ten centimes a
penny； calculates twelve francs to the pound； and presses a handful
of sous affectionately upon you as change for a napoleon。
The cheating waiter is common to all countries； though in Italy and
Belgium he flourishes； perhaps； more than elsewhere。 But the British
waiter； when detected； becomes surlydoes not take it nicely。 The
foreign waiter is amiable about itbears no malice。 He is grieved；
maybe； at your language； but that is because he is thinking of you
the possible effect of it upon your future。 To try and stop you； he
offers you another four sous。 The story is told of a Frenchman who；
not knowing the legal fare； adopted the plan of doling out pennies to
a London cabman one at a time； continuing until the man looked
satisfied。 Myself； I doubt the story。 From what I know of the
London cabman； I can see him leaning down still； with out…stretched
hand； the horse between the shafts long since dead； the cab chockfull
of coppers； and yet no expression of satiety upon his face。
But the story would appear to have crossed the Channel； and to have
commended itself to the foreign waiterespecially to the railway
refreshment…room waiter。 He doles out sous to the traveller； one at
a time； with the air of a man who is giving away the savings of a
lifetime。 If； after five minutes or so； you still appear
discontented he goes away quite suddenly。 You think he has gone to
open another chest of half…pence； but when a quarter of an hour has
passed and he does not reappear； you inquire
