three men on the bummel-第16章

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！


you　want　to　sing；　but　let　your　domestic　arrangements　be　confined　to
the　interior。　　Keep　to　the　box；　and　don't　make　the　garden　untidy。'〃

In　Germany　one　breathes　in　love　of　order　with　the　air；　in　Germany
the　babies　beat　time　with　their　rattles；　and　the　German　bird　has
come　to　prefer　the　box；　and　to　regard　with　contempt　the　few
uncivilised　outcasts　who　continue　to　build　their　nests　in　trees　and
hedges。　　In　course　of　time　every　German　bird；　one　is　confident；
will　have　his　proper　place　in　a　full　chorus。　　This　promiscuous　and
desultory　warbling　of　his　must；　one　feels；　be　irritating　to　the
precise　German　mind；　there　is　no　method　in　it。　　The　music…loving
German　will　organise　him。　　Some　stout　bird　with　a　specially　well…
developed　crop　will　be　trained　to　conduct　him；　and；　instead　of
wasting　himself　in　a　wood　at　four　o'clock　in　the　morning；　he　will；
at　the　advertised　time；　sing　in　a　beer　garden；　accompanied　by　a
piano。　　Things　are　drifting　that　way。

Your　German　likes　nature；　but　his　idea　of　nature　is　a　glorified
Welsh　Harp。　　He　takes　great　interest　in　his　garden。　　He　plants
seven　rose　trees　on　the　north　side　and　seven　on　the　south；　and　if
they　do　not　grow　up　all　the　same　size　and　shape　it　worries　him　so
that　he　cannot　sleep　of　nights。　　Every　flower　he　ties　to　a　stick。
This　interferes　with　his　view　of　the　flower；　but　he　has　the
satisfaction　of　knowing　it　is　there；　and　that　it　is　behaving
itself。　　The　lake　is　lined　with　zinc；　and　once　a　week　he　takes　it
up；　carries　it　into　the　kitchen；　and　scours　it。　　In　the　geometrical
centre　of　the　grass　plot；　which　is　sometimes　as　large　as　a
tablecloth　and　is　generally　railed　round；　he　places　a　china　dog。
The　Germans　are　very　fond　of　dogs；　but　as　a　rule　they　prefer　them
of　china。　　The　china　dog　never　digs　holes　in　the　lawn　to　bury
bones；　and　never　scatters　a　flower…bed　to　the　winds　with　his　hind
legs。　　From　the　German　point　of　view；　he　is　the　ideal　dog。　　He
stops　where　you　put　him；　and　he　is　never　where　you　do　not　want　him。
You　can　have　him　perfect　in　all　points；　according　to　the　latest
requirements　of　the　Kennel　Club；　or　you　can　indulge　your　own　fancy
and　have　something　unique。　　You　are　not；　as　with　other　dogs；
limited　to　breed。　　In　china；　you　can　have　a　blue　dog　or　a　pink　dog。
For　a　little　extra；　you　can　have　a　double…headed　dog。

On　a　certain　fixed　date　in　the　autumn　the　German　stakes　his　flowers
and　bushes　to　the　earth；　and　covers　them　with　Chinese　matting；　and
on　a　certain　fixed　date　in　the　spring　he　uncovers　them；　and　stands
them　up　again。　　If　it　happens　to　be　an　exceptionally　fine　autumn；
or　an　exceptionally　late　spring；　so　much　the　worse　for　the
unfortunate　vegetable。　　No　true　German　would　allow　his　arrangements
to　be　interfered　with　by　so　unruly　a　thing　as　the　solar　system。
Unable　to　regulate　the　weather；　he　ignores　it。

Among　trees；　your　German's　favourite　is　the　poplar。　　Other
disorderly　nations　may　sing　the　charms　of　the　rugged　oak；　the
spreading　chestnut；　or　the　waving　elm。　　To　the　German　all　such；
with　their　wilful；　untidy　ways；　are　eyesores。　　The　poplar　grows
where　it　is　planted；　and　how　it　is　planted。　　It　has　no　improper
rugged　ideas　of　its　own。　　It　does　not　want　to　wave　or　to　spread
itself。　　It　just　grows　straight　and　upright　as　a　German　tree　should
grow；　and　so　gradually　the　German　is　rooting　out　all　other　trees；
and　replacing　them　with　poplars。

Your　German　likes　the　country；　but　he　prefers　it　as　the　lady
thought　she　would　the　noble　savagemore　dressed。　　He　likes　his
walk　through　the　woodto　a　restaurant。　　But　the　pathway　must　not
be　too　steep；　it　must　have　a　brick　gutter　running　down　one　side　of
it　to　drain　it；　and　every　twenty　yards　or　so　it　must　have　its　seat
on　which　he　can　rest　and　mop　his　brow；　for　your　German　would　no
more　think　of　sitting　on　the　grass　than　would　an　English　bishop
dream　of　rolling　down　One　Tree　Hill。　　He　likes　his　view　from　the
summit　of　the　hill；　but　he　likes　to　find　there　a　stone　tablet
telling　him　what　to　look　at；　find　a　table　and　bench　at　which　he　can
sit　to　partake　of　the　frugal　beer　and　〃belegte　Semmel〃　he　has　been
careful　to　bring　with　him。　　If；　in　addition；　he　can　find　a　police
notice　posted　on　a　tree；　forbidding　him　to　do　something　or　other；
that　gives　him　an　extra　sense　of　comfort　and　security。

Your　German　is　not　averse　even　to　wild　scenery；　provided　it　be　not
too　wild。　　But　if　he　consider　it　too　savage；　he　sets　to　work　to
tame　it。　　I　remember；　in　the　neighbourhood　of　Dresden；　discovering
a　picturesque　and　narrow　valley　leading　down　towards　the　Elbe。　　The
winding　roadway　ran　beside　a　mountain　torrent；　which　for　a　mile　or
so　fretted　and　foamed　over　rocks　and　boulders　between　wood…covered
banks。　　I　followed　it　enchanted　until；　turning　a　corner；　I　suddenly
came　across　a　gang　of　eighty　or　a　hundred　workmen。　　They　were　busy
tidying　up　that　valley；　and　making　that　stream　respectable。　　All
the　stones　that　were　impeding　the　course　of　the　water　they　were
carefully　picking　out　and　carting　away。　　The　bank　on　either　side
they　were　bricking　up　and　cementing。　　The　overhanging　trees　and
bushes；　the　tangled　vines　and　creepers　they　were　rooting　up　and
trimming　down。　　A　little　further　I　came　upon　the　finished　workthe
mountain　valley　as　it　ought　to　be；　according　to　German　ideas。　　The
water；　now　a　broad；　sluggish　stream；　flowed　over　a　level；　gravelly
bed；　between　two　walls　crowned　with　stone　coping。　　At　every　hundred
yards　it　gently　descended　down　three　shallow　wooden　platforms。　　For
a　space　on　either　side　the　ground　had　been　cleared；　and　at　regular
intervals　young　poplars　planted。　　Each　sapling　was　protected　by　a
shield　of　wickerwork　and　bossed　by　an　iron　rod。　　In　the　course　of　a
couple　of　years　it　is　the　hope　of　the　local　council　to　have
〃finished〃　that　valley　throughout　its　entire　length；　and　made　it
fit　for　a　tidy…minded　lover　of　German　nature　to　walk　in。　　There
will　be　a　seat　every　fifty　yards；　a　police　notice　every　hundred；
and　a　restaurant　every　half…mile。

They　are　doing　the　same　from　the　Memel　to　the　Rhine。　　They　are　just
tidying　up　the　country。　　I　remember　well　the　Wehrthal。　　It　was　once
the　most　romantic　ravine　to　be　found　in　the　Black　Forest。　　The　last
time　I　walked　down　it　some　hundreds　of　Italian　workmen　were
encamped　there　hard　at　work；　training　the　wild　little　Wehr　the　way
it　should　go；　bricking　the　banks　for　it　here；　blasting　the　rocks
for　it　there；　making　cement　steps　for　it　down　which　it　can　travel
soberly　and　without　fuss。

For　in　Germany　there　is　no　nonsense　talked　about　untrammelled
nature。　　In　Germany　nature　has　got　to　behave　herself；　and　not　set　a
bad　example　to　the　children。　　A　German　poet；　noticing　waters　coming
down　as　Southey　describes；　somewhat　inexactly；　the　waters　coming
down　at　Lodore；　would　be　too　shocked　to　stop　and　write　alliterative
verse　about　them。　　He　would　hurry　away；　and　at　once　report　them　to
the　police。　　Then　their　foaming　and　their　shrieking　would　be　of
short　duration。

〃Now　then；　now　then；　what's　all　this　about？〃　the　voice　of　German
authority　would　say　severely　to　the　waters。　　〃We　can't　have　this
sort　of　thing；　you　know。　　Come　down　quietly；　can't　you？　　Where　do
you　think　you　are？〃

And　the　local　German　council　would　provide　those　waters　with　zinc
pipes　and　wooden　troughs；　and　a　corkscrew　staircase；　and　show　them
how　to　come　down　sensibly；　in　the　German　manner。

It　is　a　tidy　land　is　Germany。

We　reached　Dresden　on　the　Wednesday　evening；　and　stayed　there　over
the　Sunday。

Taking　one　consideration　with　another；　Dresden；　perhaps；　is　the
most　attractive　town　in　Germany；　but　it　is　a　place　to　be　lived　in
for　a　while　rather　than　visited。　　Its　museums　and　galleries；　its
palaces　and　gardens；　its　beautiful　and　historically　rich
environment；　provide　pleasure　for　a　winter；　but　bewilder　for　a
week。　　It　has　not　the　gaiety　of　Paris　or　Vienna；　which　quickly
palls；　its　charms　are　more　solidly　German；　and　more　lasting。　　It　is
the　Mecca　of　the　musician。　　For　five　shillings；　in　Dresden；　you　can
purchase　a　stall　at　the　opera　house；　together；　unfortunately；　with
a　strong　disinclination　ever　again　to　take　the　trouble　of　sitting
out　a　performance　in　any　English；　French；　or；　American　opera　house。

The　chief　scandal　of　Dresden　still　centres　round　August　the　Strong；
〃the　Man　of　Sin；〃　as　Carlyle　always　called　him；　who　is　popularly
reputed　to　have　cursed　Europe　with　over　a　thousand　children。
Castles　where　he　imprisoned　this　discarded　mistress　or　thatone　of
them；　who　persisted　in　her　claim　to　a　better　title；　for　forty
years；　it　is　said；　poor　lady！　　The　narrow　rooms　where　she　ate　her
heart　out　and　died　are　still　shown。　　Chateaux；　shameful　for　this
deed　of　infamy　or　that；　lie　scattered　round　the　neighbourhood　like
bones　about　a　battlefield；　and　most　of　your　guide's　stories　are
such　as　the　〃young　person〃　educated　in　Germany　had　best　not　hear。
His　life…sized　portrait　hangs　in　the　fine　Zwinger；　which　he　built
as　an　arena　for　his　wild　beast　fights　when　the　people　grew　tired　of
them　in　the　market…place；　a　beetle…browed；　frankly　animal　man；　but
with　the　culture　and　taste　that　so　often　wait　upon　animalism。
Modern　Dresden　undoubtedly　owes　much　to　him。

But　what　the　stranger　in　Dresden　stares　at　most　is；　perhaps；　its
electric　trams。　　These　huge　vehicles　flash　through　the　streets　at
from　ten　to　twenty　miles　an　hour；　taking　curves　and　corners　after
the　manner　of　an　Irish　car　driver。　　Everybody　travels　by　them；
excepting　only　officers　in　uniform；　who　must　not。　　Ladies　in
evening　dress；　going　to　ball　or　opera；　porters　with　their　baskets；
sit　side　by　side。　　They　are　all…important　in　the　streets；　and
everything　and　everybody　makes　haste　to　get　out　of　their　way。　　If
you　do　not　get　out　of　their　way；　and　you　still　happen　to　be　alive
when　picked　up；　then　on　your　recovery　you　are　fined　for　having　been
in　their　way。　　This　teaches　you　to　be　wary　of　them。

One　afternoon　Harris　took　a　〃bummel〃　by　himself。　　In　the　evening；
as　we　sat　listening　to　the　band　at　the　Belvedere；　Harris　said；　a
propos　of　nothing　in　particular；　〃These　Germans　have　no　sense　of
humour。〃

〃What　makes　you　think　that？〃　I　asked。

〃Why；　this　afternoon；〃　he　answered；　〃I　jumped　on　one　of　those
electric　tramcars。　　I　wanted　to　see　the　town；　so　I　stood　outside　on
the　little　platformwhat　do　you　call　it？〃

〃The　Stehplatz；〃　I　suggested。

〃That's　it；〃　said　Harris。　　〃Well；　you　know　the　way　they　shake　you
about；　and　how　you　have　to　look　out　for　the　corners；　and　mind
yourself　when　they　stop　and　when　they　start？〃

I　nodded。

〃There　were　about　half　a　dozen　of　us　standing　there；〃　he　continued；
〃and；　of　course；　I　am　not　experienced。　　The　thing　started　suddenly；
and　that　jerked　me　backwards。　　I　fell　against　a　stout　gentleman；
just　behind　me。　　He　could　not　have　been　standing　very　firmly
himself；　and　he；　in　his　turn；　fell　back　against　a　boy　who　was
carrying　a　trumpet　in　a　green　baize　case。　　They　never　smiled；
neither　the　man　nor　the　boy　with　the　trumpet；　they　just　stood　there
and　looked　sulky。　　I　was　going　to　say　I　was　sorry；　but　before　I
could　get　the　words　out　the　tram　eased　up；　for　some　reason　or
other；　and　that；　of　course；　shot　me　forward　again；　and　I　butted
into　a　white…haired　old　chap；　who　looked　to　me　like　a　professor。
Well；　HE　never　smiled；　never