四季随笔-the private papers of henry ryecroft(英文版)-第23章
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gardens； that tranquillity and security which make a music in the mind of him who gazes……these are what a man must see and feel if he would appreciate the worth and the power of England。 The people which has made for itself such homes as these is distinguished； above all things； by its love of order； it has understood； as no other people； the truth that 〃order is heaven's first law。〃 With order it is natural to find stability； and the bination of these qualities； as seen in domestic life； results in that peculiarly English product； our name for which……though but a pale shadow of the thing itself……has been borrowed by other countries： fort。
Then Englishman's need of 〃fort〃 is one of his best characteristics； the possibility that he may change in this respect； and bee indifferent to his old ideal of physical and mental ease； is the gravest danger manifest in our day。 For 〃fort；〃 mind you； does not concern the body alone； the beauty and orderliness of an Englishman's home derive their value； nay； their very existence； from the spirit which directs his whole life。 Walk from the village to the noble's mansion。 It； too； is perfect of its kind； it has the dignity of age； its walls are beautiful； the gardens； the park about it are such as can be found only in England； lovely beyond pare； and all this represents the same moral characteristics as the English cottage； but with greater activities and responsibilities。 If the noble grow tired of his mansion； and； letting it to some crude owner of millions； go to live in hotels and hired villas； if the cottager sicken of his village roof； and transport himself to the sixth floor of a 〃block〃 in Shoreditch； one sees but too well that the one and the other have lost the old English sense of fort； and； in losing it； have suffered degradation alike as men and as citizens。 It is not a question of exchanging one form of fort for another； the instinct which made an Englishman has in these cases perished。 Perhaps it is perishing from among us altogether； killed by new social and political conditions； one who looks at villages of the new type； at the working…class quarters of towns； at the rising of 〃flats〃 among the dwellings of the wealthy； has little choice but to think so。 There may soon e a day when； though the word 〃fort〃 continues to be used in many languages； the thing it signifies will be discoverable nowhere at all。
XIV
If the ingenious foreigner found himself in some village of manufacturing Lancashire； he would be otherwise impressed。 Here something of the power of England might be revealed to him； but of England's worth； little enough。 Hard ugliness would everywhere assail his eyes； the visages and voices of the people would seem to him thoroughly akin to their surroundings。 Scarcely could one find； in any civilized nation； a more notable contrast than that between these two English villages and their inhabitants。
Yet Lancashire is English； and there among the mill chimneys； in the hideous little street； folk are living whose domestic thoughts claim undeniable kindred with those of the villagers of the kinder south。 But to understand how 〃fort；〃 and the virtues it implies； can exist amid such conditions； one must perate to the hearthside； the door must be shut； the curtain drawn； here 〃home〃 does not extend beyond the threshold。 After all； this grimy row of houses； ugliest that man ever conceived； is more representative of England to…day than the lovely village among the trees and meadows。 More than a hundred years ago； power passed from the south of England to the north。 The vigorous race on the other side of Trent only found its opportunity when the age of machinery began； its civilization； long delayed； differs in obvious respects from that of older England。 In Sussex or in Somerset； however dull and clownish the typical inhabitant； he plainly belongs to an ancient order of things； represents an immemorial subordination。 The rude man of the north is……by parison……but just emerged from barbarism； and under any circumstances would show less smooth a front。 By great misfortune； he has fallen under the harshest lordship the modern world has known……that of scientific industrialism； and all his vigorous qualities are subdued to a scheme of life based upon the harsh； the ugly； the sordid。 His racial heritage； of course； marks him to the eye； even as ploughman or shepherd； he differs notably from him of the same calling in the weald or on the downs。 But the frank brutality of the man in all externals has been encouraged； rather than mitigated； by the course his civilization has taken； and hence it is that； unless one knows him well enough to respect him； he seems even yet stamped with the half…savagery of his folk as they were a century and a half ago。 His fierce shyness； his arrogant self…regard； are notes of a primitive state。 Naturally； he never learnt to house himself as did the Southerner； for climate； as well as social circumstance； was unfavourable to all the graces of life。 And now one can only watch the encroachment of his rule upon that old； that true England whose strength and virtue were so differently manifested。 This fair broad land of the lovely villages signifies little save to the antiquary； the poet； the painter。 Vainly； indeed； should I show its beauty and its peace to the observant foreigner； he would but smile； and； with a glance at the traction… engine just ing along the road； indicate the direction of his thoughts。
XV
Nothing in all Homer pleases me more than the bedstead of Odysseus。 I have tried to turn the passage describing it into English verse； thus：…
Here in my garth a goodly olive grew； Thick was the noble leafage of its prime； And like a carven column rose the trunk。 This tree about I built my chamber walls； Laying great stone on stone； and roofed them well； And in the portal set a ely door； Stout…hinged and tightly closing。 Then with axe I lopped the leafy olive's branching head； And hewed the bole to four…square shapeliness； And smoothed it； craftsmanlike； and grooved and pierced； Making the rooted timber； where it grew； A corner of my couch。 Labouring on； I fashioned all the bed…frame； which plete； The wood I overlaid with shining gear Of gold； of silver； and of ivory。 And last； between the endlong beams I stretched Stout thongs of ox…hide； dipped in purple dye。
Odyssey； xxiii。 190…201。
Did anyone ever imitate the admirable precedent？ Were I a young man； and an owner of land； assuredly I would do so。 Choose some goodly tree； straight…soaring； cut away head and branches； leave just the clean trunk and build your house about it in such manner that the top of the rooted timber rises a couple of feet above your bedroom floor。 The trunk need not be manifest in the lower part of the house； but I should prefer to have it so； I am a tree… worshipper； it should be as the visible presence of a household god。 And how could one more nobly symbolize the sacredness of Home？ There can be no home without the sense of permanence； and without home there is no civilization……as England will discover when the greater part of her population have bee flat…inhabiting nomads。 In some ideal monwealth； one can imagine the Odyssean bed a normal institution； every head of a household； cottager or lord （for the monwealth must have its lords； go to！）； lying down to rest； as did his fathers； in the Chamber of the Tree。 This； one fancies； were a somewhat more fitting nuptial chamber than the chance bedroom of a hotel。 Odysseus building his home is man performing a supreme act of piety； through all the ages that picture must retain its profound significance。 Note the tree he chose； the olive； sacred to Athena； emblem of peace。 When he and the wise goddess meet together to scheme destruction of the princes； they sit ＇Greek text＇。 Their talk is of bloodshed； true； but in punishment of those who have outraged the sanctity of the hearth； and to re…establish； after purification； domestic calm and security。 It is one of the dreary aspects of modern life that natural symbolism has all but perished。 We have no consecrated tree。 The oak once held a place in English hearts； but who now reveres it？……our trust is in gods of iron。 Money is made at Christmas out of holly and mistletoe； but who save the vendors would greatly care if no green branch were procurable？ One symbol； indeed； has obscured all others……the minted round of metal。 And one may safely say that； of all the ages since a coin first became the symbol of power； ours is that in which it yields to the majority of its possessors the poorest return in heart's contentment。
XVI
I have been dull to…day； haunted by the thought of how much there is that I would fain know； and how little I can hope to learn。 The scope of knowledge has bee so vast。 I put aside nearly all physical investigation； to me it is naught； or only； at moments； a matter of idle curiosity。 This would seem to be a considerable clearing of the field； but it leaves what is practically the infinite。 To run over a list of only my favourite subjects； those to which； all my life long； I have more or less applied myself； studies which hold in my mind the place of hobbies； is to open vistas of intellectual despair。 In an old note…book I jotted down such a list……〃things I hope to know； and to know well。〃 I was then four and twenty。 Reading it with the eyes of fifty…four； I must needs laugh。 There appear such modest items as 〃The history of the Christian Church up to the Reformation〃……〃all Greek poetry〃……〃The field of Mediaeval Romance〃……〃German literature from Lessing to Heine〃……〃Dante！〃 Not one of these shall I ever 〃know； and know well〃； not any one of them。 Yet here I am buying books which lead me into endless paths of new temptation。 What have I to do with Egypt？ Yet I have been beguiled by Flinders Petrie and by Maspero。 How can I pretend to meddle with the ancient geography of Asia Minor？ Yet here have I bought Prof。 Ramsay's astonishing book； and have even read with a sort of troubled enjoyment a good many pages of it； troubled； because I have but to reflect a moment； and I see that all this kind of thing is mere futile effort of the intellect when the time for serious intellectual effort is over。
It all means； of course； that； owing to defective opportunity； owing； still more perhaps； to lack of method and persistence； a possibility that was in me has been wasted； lost。 My life has been merely tentative； a broken series of false starts and hopeless new beginnings。 If I allowed myself to indulge that mood； I could revolt against the ordinance which allows me no second chance。 O mihi praeteritos referat si Jupiter annos！ If I could but start again； with only the experience there gained！ I mean； make a new beginning of my intellectual life； nothing else； O heaven！ nothing else。 Even amid poverty； I could do so much better； keeping before my eyes some definite； some not unattainable； good； sternly dismissing the impracticable； the wasteful。
And； in doing so； bee perhaps an owl…eyed pedant； to whom would be for ever dead the possibility of such enjoyment as I know in these final years。 Who can say？ Perhaps the sole condition of my progress to this state of mind and heart which make my happiness was that very stumbling and erring which I so regret。
XVII
Why do I give so much of my time to the reading of history？ Is it in any sense profitable to me？ What new light can I hope for on the nature of man？ What new guidance for the direction of my own life through the few years that may remain to me？ But it is with no such purpose that I read these voluminous books； they gratify……or seem to gratify……a mere curiosity； and scarcely have I closed a volume； when the greater part of what I have read in it is forgotten。
Heaven forbid that I should remember all！ Many a time I have said to myself that I would close the dreadful record of human life； lay it for ever aside； and try to forget it。 Somebody declares that history is a manifestation of the triumph of good over evil。 The good prevails now and then； no doubt； but how local and transitory is such triumph。 If historic tomes had a voice； it would sound as one long moan of anguish。 Think steadfastly of the past； and one sees that only by defect of imaginative power can any man endure to dwell with it。 History is a nightmare of horrors； we relish it； because we love pictures； and because all that man has suffered is to man rich in interest。 But make real to yourself the vision of every blood…stained page……stand in the presence of the ravening conqueror； the savage tyrant……tread the stones of the dungeon and of the torture…room……feel the fire of the stake……hear the cries of that multitude which no man can number； the victims of calamity； of oppression； of fierce injustice in its myriad forms； in every land； in every age……and what joy have you of your historic reading？ One would need to be a devil to understand it thus； and yet to delight in it。
Injustice……there is the loathed crime which curses the memory of the world。 The slave doomed by his lord's caprice to perish under tortures……one feels it a dreadful and intolerable thing； but it is merely the crude presentment of what has been done and endured a million times in every stage of civilization。 Oh； the last thoughts of those who have agonized unto death amid wrongs to which no man would give ear！ That appeal
