three men on the bummel-第12章

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it　is　Fate。　　Keep　to　moral　advice　and　criticismthere　you　are
distinctly　good；　but　don't　try　your　hand　any　more　on　'Useful
Information。'　　As　I　have　said；　it　is　not　your　fault。　　Your
information　is　correct　enoughthere　is　nothing　to　be　said　against
that；　it　simply　is　that　you　are　not　lucky　with　it。〃

I　would　that　I　had　followed　his　advice　always；　I　would　have　saved
myself　and　other　people　much　disaster。　　I　see　no　reason　why　it
should　be；　but　so　it　is。　　If　I　instruct　a　man　as　to　the　best　route
between　London　and　Rome；　he　loses　his　luggage　in　Switzerland；　or　is
nearly　shipwrecked　off　Dover。　　If　I　counsel　him　in　the　purchase　of
a　camera；　he　gets　run　in　by　the　German　police　for　photographing
fortresses。　　I　once　took　a　deal　of　trouble　to　explain　to　a　man　how
to　marry　his　deceased　wife's　sister　at　Stockholm。　　I　found　out　for
him　the　time　the　boat　left　Hull　and　the　best　hotels　to　stop　at。
There　was　not　a　single　mistake　from　beginning　to　end　in　the
information　with　which　I　supplied　him；　no　hitch　occurred　anywhere；
yet　now　he　never　speaks　to　me。

Therefore　it　is　that　I　have　come　to　restrain　my　passion　for　the
giving　of　information；　therefore　it　is　that　nothing　in　the　nature
of　practical　instruction　will　be　found；　if　I　can　help　it；　within
these　pages。

There　will　be　no　description　of　towns；　no　historical　reminiscences；
no　architecture；　no　morals。

I　once　asked　an　intelligent　foreigner　what　he　thought　of　London。

He　said：　　〃It　is　a　very　big　town。〃

I　said：　　〃What　struck　you　most　about　it？〃

He　replied：　　〃The　people。〃

I　said：　　〃Compared　with　other　townsParis；　Rome；　Berlin；what　did
you　think　of　it？〃

He　shrugged　his　shoulders。　　〃It　is　bigger；〃　he　said；　〃what　more　can
one　say？〃

One　anthill　is　very　much　like　another。　　So　many　avenues；　wide　or
narrow；　where　the　little　creatures　swarm　in　strange　confusion；
these　bustling　by；　important；　these　halting　to　pow…wow　with　one
another。　　These　struggling　with　big　burdens；　those　but　basking　in
the　sun。　　So　many　granaries　stored　with　food；　so　many　cells　where
the　little　things　sleep；　and　eat；　and　love；　the　corner　where　lie
their　little　white　bones。　　This　hive　is　larger；　the　next　smaller。
This　nest　lies　on　the　sand；　and　another　under　the　stones。　　This　was
built　but　yesterday；　while　that　was　fashioned　ages　ago；　some　say
even　before　the　swallows　came；　who　knows？

Nor　will　there　be　found　herein　folk…lore　or　story。

Every　valley　where　lie　homesteads　has　its　song。　　I　will　tell　you
the　plot；　you　can　turn　it　into　verse　and　set　it　to　music　of　your
own。

There　lived　a　lass；　and　there　came　a　lad；　who　loved　and　rode　away。

It　is　a　monotonous　song；　written　in　many　languages；　for　the　young
man　seems　to　have　been　a　mighty　traveller。　　Here　in　sentimental
Germany　they　remember　him　well。　　So　also　the　dwellers　of　the　Blue
Alsatian　Mountains　remember　his　coming　among　them；　while；　if　my
memory　serves　me　truly；　he　likewise　visited　the　Banks　of　Allan
Water。　　A　veritable　Wandering　Jew　is　he；　for　still　the　foolish
girls　listen；　so　they　say；　to　the　dying　away　of　his　hoof…beats。

In　this　land　of　many　ruins；　that　long　while　ago　were　voice…filled
homes；　linger　many　legends；　and　here　again；　giving　you　the
essentials；　I　leave　you　to　cook　the　dish　for　yourself。　　Take　a
human　heart　or　two；　assorted；　a　bundle　of　human　passionsthere　are
not　many　of　them；　half　a　dozen　at　the　most；　season　with　a　mixture
of　good　and　evil；　flavour　the　whole　with　the　sauce　of　death；　and
serve　up　where　and　when　you　will。　　〃The　Saint's　Cell；〃　〃The　Haunted
Keep；〃　〃The　Dungeon　Grave；〃　〃The　Lover's　Leap〃call　it　what　you
will；　the　stew's　the　same。

Lastly；　in　this　book　there　will　be　no　scenery。　　This　is　not
laziness　on　my　part；　it　is　self…control。　　Nothing　is　easier　to
write　than　scenery；　nothing　more　difficult　and　unnecessary　to　read。
When　Gibbon　had　to　trust　to　travellers'　tales　for　a　description　of
the　Hellespont；　and　the　Rhine　was　chiefly　familiar　to　English
students　through　the　medium　of　Caesar's　Commentaries；　it　behoved
every　globe…trotter；　for　whatever　distance；　to　describe　to　the　best
of　his　ability　the　things　that　he　had　seen。　　Dr。　Johnson；　familiar
with　little　else　than　the　view　down　Fleet　Street；　could　read　the
description　of　a　Yorkshire　moor　with　pleasure　and　with　profit。　　To
a　cockney　who　had　never　seen　higher　ground　than　the　Hog's　Back　in
Surrey；　an　account　of　Snowdon　must　have　appeared　exciting。　　But　we；
or　rather　the　steam…engine　and　the　camera　for　us；　have　changed　all
that。　　The　man　who　plays　tennis　every　year　at　the　foot　of　the
Matterhorn；　and　billiards　on　the　summit　of　the　Rigi；　does　not　thank
you　for　an　elaborate　and　painstaking　description　of　the　Grampian
Hills。　　To　the　average　man；　who　has　seen　a　dozen　oil　paintings；　a
hundred　photographs；　a　thousand　pictures　in　the　illustrated
journals；　and　a　couple　of　panoramas　of　Niagara；　the　word…painting
of　a　waterfall　is　tedious。

An　American　friend　of　mine；　a　cultured　gentleman；　who　loved　poetry
well　enough　for　its　own　sake；　told　me　that　he　had　obtained　a　more
correct　and　more　satisfying　idea　of　the　Lake　district　from　an
eighteenpenny　book　of　photographic　views　than　from　all　the　works　of
Coleridge；　Southey；　and　Wordsworth　put　together。　　I　also　remember
his　saying　concerning　this　subject　of　scenery　in　literature；　that
he　would　thank　an　author　as　much　for　writing　an　eloquent
description　of　what　he　had　just　had　for　dinner。　　But　this　was　in
reference　to　another　argument；　namely；　the　proper　province　of　each
art。　　My　friend　maintained　that　just　as　canvas　and　colour　were　the
wrong　mediums　for　story　telling；　so　word…painting　was；　at　its　best；
but　a　clumsy　method　of　conveying　impressions　that　could　much　better
be　received　through　the　eye。

As　regards　the　question；　there　also　lingers　in　my　memory　very
distinctly　a　hot　school　afternoon。　　The　class　was　for　English
literature；　and　the　proceedings　commenced　with　the　reading　of　a
certain　lengthy；　but　otherwise　unobjectionable；　poem。　　The　author's
name；　I　am　ashamed　to　say；　I　have　forgotten；　together　with　the
title　of　the　poem。　　The　reading　finished；　we　closed　our　books；　and
the　Professor；　a　kindly；　white…haired　old　gentleman；　suggested　our
giving　in　our　own　words　an　account　of　what　we　had　just　read。

〃Tell　me；〃　said　the　Professor；　encouragingly；　〃what　it　is　all
about。〃

〃Please；　sir；〃　said　the　first　boyhe　spoke　with　bowed　head　and
evident　reluctance；　as　though　the　subject　were　one　which；　left　to
himself；　he　would　never　have　mentioned；〃it　is　about　a　maiden。〃

〃Yes；〃　agreed　the　Professor；　〃but　I　want　you　to　tell　me　in　your　own
words。　　We　do　not　speak　of　a　maiden；　you　know；　we　say　a　girl。　　Yes；
it　is　about　a　girl。　　Go　on。〃

〃A　girl；〃　repeated　the　top　boy；　the　substitution　apparently
increasing　his　embarrassment；　〃who　lived　in　a　wood。〃

〃What　sort　of　a　wood？〃　asked　the　Professor。

The　first　boy　examined　his　inkpot　carefully；　and　then　looked　at　the
ceiling。

〃Come；〃　urged　the　Professor；　growing　impatient；　〃you　have　been
reading　about　this　wood　for　the　last　ten　minutes。　　Surely　you　can
tell　me　something　concerning　it。〃

〃The　gnarly　trees；　their　twisted　branches〃recommenced　the　top
boy。

〃No；　no；〃　interrupted　the　Professor；　〃I　do　not　want　you　to　repeat
the　poem。　　I　want　you　to　tell　me　in　your　own　words　what　sort　of　a
wood　it　was　where　the　girl　lived。〃

The　Professor　tapped　his　foot　impatiently；　the　top　boy　made　a　dash
for　it。

〃Please；　sir；　it　was　the　usual　sort　of　a　wood。〃

〃Tell　him　what　sort　of　a　wood；〃　said　he；　pointing　to　the　second
lad。

The　second　boy　said　it　was　a　〃green　wood。〃　　This　annoyed　the
Professor　still　more；　he　called　the　second　boy　a　blockhead；　though
really　I　cannot　see　why；　and　passed　on　to　the　third；　who；　for　the
last　minute；　had　been　sitting　apparently　on　hot　plates；　with　his
right　arm　waving　up　and　down　like　a　distracted　semaphore　signal。
He　would　have　had　to　say　it　the　next　second；　whether　the　Professor
had　asked　him　or　not；　he　was　red　in　the　face；　holding　his　knowledge
in。

〃A　dark　and　gloomy　wood；〃　shouted　the　third　boy；　with　much　relief
to　his　feelings。

〃A　dark　and　gloomy　wood；〃　repeated　the　Professor；　with　evident
approval。　　〃And　why　was　it　dark　and　gloomy？〃

The　third　boy　was　still　equal　to　the　occasion。

〃Because　the　sun　could　not　get　inside　it。〃

The　Professor　felt　he　had　discovered　the　poet　of　the　class。

〃Because　the　sun　could　not　get　into　it；　or；　better；　because　the
sunbeams　could　not　penetrate。　　And　why　could　not　the　sunbeams
penetrate　there？〃

〃Please；　sir；　because　the　leaves　were　too　thick。〃

〃Very　well；〃　said　the　Professor。　　〃The　girl　lived　in　a　dark　and
gloomy　wood；　through　the　leafy　canopy　of　which　the　sunbeams　were
unable　to　pierce。　　Now；　what　grew　in　this　wood？〃　　He　pointed　to　the
fourth　boy。

〃Please；　sir；　trees；　sir。〃

〃And　what　else？〃

〃Toadstools；　sir。〃　　This　after　a　pause。

The　Professor　was　not　quite　sure　about　the　toadstools；　but　on
referring　to　the　text　he　found　that　the　boy　was　right；　toadstools
had　been　mentioned。

〃Quite　right；〃　admitted　the　Professor；　〃toadstools　grew　there。　　And
what　else？　　What　do　you　find　underneath　trees　in　a　wood？〃

〃Please；　sir；　earth；　sir。〃

〃No；　no；　what　grows　in　a　wood　besides　trees？〃

〃Oh；　please；　sir；　bushes；　sir。〃

〃Bushes；　very　good。　　Now　we　are　getting　on。　　In　this　wood　there
were　trees　and　bushes。　　And　what　else？〃

He　pointed　to　a　small　boy　near　the　bottom；　who　having　decided　that
the　wood　was　too　far　off　to　be　of　any　annoyance　to　him；
individually；　was　occupying　his　leisure　playing　noughts　and　crosses
against　himself。　　Vexed　and　bewildered；　but　feeling　it　necessary　to
add　something　to　the　inventory；　he　hazarded　blackberries。　　This　was
a　mistake；　the　poet　had　not　mentioned　blackberries。

〃Of　course；　Klobstock　would　think　of　something　to　eat；〃　commented
the　Professor；　who　prided　himself　on　his　ready　wit。　　This　raised　a
laugh　against　Klobstock；　and　pleased　the　Professor。

〃You；〃　continued　he；　pointing　to　a　boy　in　the　middle；　〃what　else
was　there　in　this　wood　besides　trees　and　bushes？〃

〃Please；　sir；　there　was　a　torrent　there。〃

〃Quite　right；　and　what　did　the　torrent　do？〃

〃Please；　sir；　it　gurgled。〃

〃No；　no。　　Streams　gurgle；　torrents？〃

〃Roar；　sir。〃

〃It　roared。　　And　what　made　it　roar？〃

This　was　a　poser。　　One　boyhe　was　not　our　prize　intellect；　I
admitsuggested　the　girl。　　To　help　us　the　Professor　put　his
question　in　another　form：

〃When　did　it　roar？〃

Our　third　boy；　again　coming　to　the　rescue；　explained　that　it　roared
when　it　fell　down　among　the　rocks。　　I　think　some　of　us　had　a　vague
idea　that　it　must　have　been　a　cowardly　torrent　to　make　such　a　noise
about　a　little　thing　like　this；　a　pluckier　torrent；　we　felt；　would
have　got　up　and　gone　on；　saying　nothing　about　it。　　A　torrent　that
roared　every　time　it　fell　upon　a　rock　we　deemed　a　poor　spirited
torrent；　but　the　Professor　seemed　quite　content　with　it。

〃And　what　lived　in　this　wood　beside　the　girl？〃　was　the　next
question。

〃Please；　sir；　birds；　sir。〃

〃Yes；　birds　lived　in　this　wood。　　What　else？〃

Birds　seemed　to　have　exhausted　our　ideas。

〃Come；〃　said　the　Professor；　〃what　are　those　animals　with　tails；
that　run　up　trees？〃

We　thought　for　a　while；　then　one　of　us　suggested　cats。

This　was　an　error；　the　poet