idle thoughts of an idle fellow-第4章

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t　happen　to　you。　　Who　would　care　two　straws　（whatever　precise　amount　of　care　two　straws　may　represent）　whether　you　are　blown　up；　or　hung　up；　or　married；　or　drowned？　　Nobody　cares　for　you。　　You　never　have　been　properly　appreciated；　never　met　with　your　due　deserts　in　any　one　particular。　　You　review　the　whole　of　your　past　life；　and　it　is　painfully　apparent　that　you　have　been　ill…used　from　your　cradle。

Half　an　hour's　indulgence　in　these　considerations　works　you　up　into　a　state　of　savage　fury　against　everybody　and　everything；　especially　yourself；　whom　anatomical　reasons　alone　prevent　your　kicking。　Bed…time　at　last　comes；　to　save　you　from　doing　something　rash；　and　you　spring　upstairs；　throw　off　your　clothes；　leaving　them　strewn　all　over　the　room；　blow　out　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　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　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。

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　upon　us；　and　standing　in　the　stillness　under　earth's　darkening　dome；　we　feel　that　we　are　greater　than　our　petty　lives。　　Hung　round　with　those　dusky　curtains；　the　world　is　no　longer　a　mere　dingy　workshop；　but　a　stately　temple　wherein　man　may　worship；　and　where　at　times　in　the　dimness　his　groping　hands　touch　God's。



ON　BEING　HARD　UP。

It　is　a　most　remarkable　thing。　　I　sat　down　with　the　full　intention　of　writing　something　clever　and　original；　but　for　the　life　of　me　I　can't　think　of　anything　clever　and　originalat　least；　not　at　this　moment。　The　only　thing　I　can　think　about　now　is　being　hard　up。　　I　suppose　having　my　hands　in　my　pockets　has　made　me　think　about　this。　　I　always　do　sit　with　my　hands　in　my　pockets　except　when　I　am　in　the　company　of　my　sisters；　my　cousins；　or　my　aunts；　and　they　kick　up　such　a　shindyI　should　say　expostulate　so　eloquently　upon　the　subjectthat　I　have　to　give　in　and　take　them　outmy　hands　I　mean。　　The　chorus　to　their　objections　is　that　it　is　not　gentlemanly。　　I　am　hanged　if　I　can　see　why。　　I　could　understand　its　not　being　considered　gentlemanly　to　put　your　hands　in　other　people's　pockets　（especially　by　the　other　people）；　but　how；　0　ye　sticklers　for　what　looks　this　and　what　looks　that；　can　putting　his　hands　in　his　own　pockets　make　a　man　less　gentle？　　Perhaps　you　are　right；　though。　　Now　I　come　to　think　of　it；　I　have　heard　some　people　grumble　most　savagely　when　doing　it。　　But　they　were　mostly　old　gentlemen。　　We　young　fellows；　as　a　rule；　are　never　quite　at　ease　unless　we　have　our　hands　in　our　pockets。　　We　are　awkward　and　shifty。　We　are　like　what　a　music…hall　Lion　Comique　would　be　without　his　opera…hat；　if　such　a　thing　can　be　imagined。　　But　let　us　put　our　hands　in　our　trousers　pockets；　and　let　there　be　some　small　change　in　the　right…hand　one　and　a　bunch　of　keys　in　the　left；　and　we　will　face　a　female　post…office　clerk。

It　is　a　little　difficult　to　know　what　to　do　with　your　bands；　even　in　your　pockets；　when　there　is　nothing　else　there。　　Years　ago；　when　my　whole　capital　would　occasionally　come　down　to　〃what　in　town　the　people　call　a　bob；〃　I　would　recklessly　spend　a　penny　of　it；　merely　for　the　sake　of　having　the　change；　all　in　coppers；　to　jingle。　　You　don't　feel　nearly　so　hard　up　with　eleven　pence　in　your　pocket　as　you　do　with　a　shilling。　　Had　I　been　〃La…di…da；〃　that　impecunious　youth　about　whom　we　superior　folk　are　so　sarcastic；　I　would　have　changed　my　penny　for　two　ha'pennies。

I　can　speak　with　authority　on　the　subject　of　being　hard　up。　　I　have　been　a　provincial　actor。　　If　further　evidence　be　required；　which　I　do　not　think　likely；　I　can　add　that　I　have　been　a　〃gentleman　connected　with　the　press。〃　　I　have　lived　on　15　shilling　a　week。　　I　have　lived　a　week　on　10；　owing　the　other　5；　and　I　have　lived　for　a　fortnight　on　a　great…coat。

It　is　wonderful　what　an　insight　into　domestic　economy　being　really　hard　up　gives　one。　　If　you　want　to　find　out　the　value　of　money；　live　on　15　shillings　a　week　and　see　how　much　you　can　put　by　for　clothes　and　recreation。　　You　will　find　out　that　it　is　worth　while　to　wait　for　the　farthing　change；　that　it　is　worth　while　to　walk　a　mile　to　save　a　penny；　that　a　glass　of　beer　is　a　luxury　to　be　indulged　in　only　at　rare　intervals；　and　that　a　collar　can　be　worn　for　four　days。

Try　it　just　before　you　get　married。　　It　will　be　excellent　practice。　Let　your　son　and　heir　try　it　before　sending　him　to　college。　　He　won't　grumble　at　a　hundred　a　year　pocket…money　then。　　There　are　some　people　to　whom　it　would　do　a　world　of　good。　　There　is　that　delicate　blossom　who　can't　drink　any　claret　under　ninety…four；　and　who　would　as　soon　think　of　dining　off　cat's　meat　as　off　plain　roast　mutton。　　You　do　come　across　these　poor　wretches　now　and　then；　though；　to　the　credit　of　humanity；　they　are　principally　confined　to　that　fearful　and　wonderful　society　known　only　to　lady　novelists。　　I　never　hear　of　one　of　these　creatures　di