四季随笔-the private papers of henry ryecroft(英文版)-第3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！


obbed　me　of　heart　and　hope。　Here；　scarce　have　I　assured　myself　that　the　last　leaf　has　fallen；　scarce　have　I　watched　the　glistening　of　hoar…frost　upon　the　evergreens；　when　a　breath　from　the　west　thrills　me　with　anticipation　of　bud　and　bloom。　Even　under　this　grey…billowing　sky；　which　tells　that　February　is　still　in　rule：…
Mild　winds　shake　the　elder　brake；　And　the　wandering　herdsmen　know　That　the　whitethorn　soon　will　blow。
I　have　been　thinking　of　those　early　years　of　mine　in　London；　when　the　seasons　passed　over　me　unobserved；　when　I　seldom　turned　a　glance　towards　the　heavens；　and　felt　no　hardship　in　the　imprisonment　of　boundless　streets。　It　is　strange　now　to　remember　that　for　some　six　or　seven　years　I　never　looked　upon　a　meadow；　never　travelled　even　so　far　as　to　the　tree…bordered　suburbs。　I　was　battling　for　dear　life；　on　most　days　I　could　not　feel　certain　that　in　a　week's　time　I　should　have　food　and　shelter。　It　would　happen；　to　be　sure；　that　in　hot　noons　of　August　my　thoughts　wandered　to　the　sea；　but　so　impossible　was　the　gratification　of　such　desire　that　it　never　greatly　troubled　me。　At　times；　indeed；　I　seem　all　but　to　have　forgotten　that　people　went　away　for　holiday。　In　those　poor　parts　of　the　town　where　I　dwelt；　season　made　no　perceptible　difference；　there　were　no　luggage…　laden　cabs　to　remind　me　of　joyous　journeys；　the　folk　about　me　went　daily　to　their　toil　as　usual；　and　so　did　I。　I　remember　afternoons　of　languor；　when　books　were　a　weariness；　and　no　thought　could　be　squeezed　out　of　the　drowsy　brain；　then　would　I　betake　myself　to　one　of　the　parks；　and　find　refreshment　without　any　enjoyable　sense　of　change。　Heavens；　how　I　laboured　in　those　days！　And　how　far　I　was　from　thinking　of　myself　as　a　subject　for　passion！　That　came　later；　when　my　health　had　begun　to　suffer　from　excess　of　toil；　from　bad　air；　bad　food　and　many　miseries；　then　awoke　the　maddening　desire　for　countryside　and　sea…beach……and　for　other　things　yet　more　remote。　But　in　the　years　when　I　toiled　hardest　and　underwent　what　now　appear　to　me　hideous　privations；　of　a　truth　I　could　not　be　said　to　suffer　at　all。　I　did　not　suffer；　for　I　had　no　sense　of　weakness。　My　health　was　proof　against　everything；　and　my　energies　defied　all　malice　of　circumstance。　With　however　little　encouragement；　I　had　infinite　hope。　Sound　sleep　（often　in　places　I　now　dread　to　think　of）　sent　me　fresh　to　the　battle　each　morning；　my　breakfast；　sometimes；　no　more　than　a　slice　of　bread　and　a　cup　of　water。　As　human　happiness　goes；　I　am　not　sure　that　I　was　not　then　happy。
Most　men　who　go　through　a　hard　time　in　their　youth　are　supported　by　panionship。　London　has　no　pays　latin；　but　hungry　beginners　in　literature　have　generally　their　suitable　rades；　garreteers　in　the　Tottenham　Court　Road　district；　or　in　unredeemed　Chelsea；　they　make　their　little　vie　de　Boheme；　and　are　consciously　proud　of　it。　Of　my　position；　the　peculiarity　was　that　I　never　belonged　to　any　cluster；　I　shrank　from　casual　acquaintance；　and；　through　the　grim　years；　had　but　one　friend　with　whom　I　held　converse。　It　was　never　my　instinct　to　look　for　help；　to　seek　favour　for　advancement；　whatever　step　I　gained　was　gained　by　my　own　strength。　Even　as　I　disregarded　favour　so　did　I　scorn　advice；　no　counsel　would　I　ever　take　but　that　of　my　own　brain　and　heart。　More　than　once　I　was　driven　by　necessity　to　beg　from　strangers　the　means　of　earning　bread；　and　this　of　all　my　experiences　was　the　bitterest；　yet　I　think　I　should　have　found　it　worse　still　to　incur　a　debt　to　some　friend　or　rade。　The　truth　is　that　I　have　never　learnt　to　regard　myself　as　a　〃member　of　society。〃　For　me；　there　have　always　been　two　entities……myself　and　the　world；　and　the　normal　relation　between　these　two　has　been　hostile。　Am　I　not　still　a　lonely　man；　as　far　as　ever　from　forming　part　of　the　social　order？
This；　of　which　I　once　was　scornfully　proud；　seems　to　me　now；　if　not　a　calamity；　something　I　would　not　choose　if　life　were　to　live　again。
IX
For　more　than　six　years　I　trod　the　pavement；　never　stepping　once　upon　mother　earth……for　the　parks　are　but　pavement　disguised　with　a　growth　of　grass。　Then　the　worst　was　over。　Say　I　the　worst？　No；　no；　things　far　worse　were　to　e；　the　struggle　against　starvation　has　its　cheery　side　when　one　is　young　and　vigorous。　But　at　all　events　I　had　begun　to　earn　a　living；　I　held　assurance　of　food　and　clothing　for　half　a　year　at　a　time；　granted　health；　I　might　hope　to　draw　my　not　insufficient　wages　for　many　a　twelvemonth。　And　they　were　the　wages　of　work　done　independently；　when　and　where　I　would。　I　thought　with　horror　of　lives　spent　in　an　office；　with　an　employer　to　obey。　The　glory　of　the　career　of　letters　was　its　freedom；　its　dignity！
The　fact　of　the　matter　was；　of　course；　that　I　served；　not　one　master；　but　a　whole　crowd　of　them。　Independence；　forsooth！　If　my　writing　failed　to　please　editor；　publisher；　public；　where　was　my　daily　bread？　The　greater　my　success；　the　more　numerous　my　employers。　I　was　the　slave　of　a　multitude。　By　heaven's　grace　I　had　succeeded　in　pleasing　（that　is　to　say；　in　making　myself　a　source　of　profit　to）　certain　persons　who　represented　this　vague　throng；　for　the　time；　they　were　gracious　to　me；　but　what　justified　me　in　the　faith　that　I　should　hold　the　ground　I　had　gained？　Could　the　position　of　any　toiling　man　be　more　precarious　than　mine？　I　tremble　now　as　I　think　of　it；　tremble　as　I　should　in　watching　some　one　who　walked　carelessly　on　the　edge　of　an　abyss。　I　marvel　at　the　recollection　that　for　a　good　score　of　years　this　pen　and　a　scrap　of　paper　clothed　and　fed　me　and　my　household；　kept　me　in　physical　fort；　held　at　bay　all　those　hostile　forces　of　the　world　ranged　against　one　who　has　no　resource　save　in　his　own　right　hand。
But　I　was　thinking　of　the　year　which　saw　my　first　exodus　from　London。　On　an　irresistible　impulse；　I　suddenly　made　up　my　mind　to　go　into　Devon；　a　part　of　England　I　had　never　seen。　At　the　end　of　March　I　escaped　from　my　grim　lodgings；　and；　before　I　had　time　to　reflect　on　the　details　of　my　undertaking；　I　found　myself　sitting　in　sunshine　at　a　spot　very　near　to　where　I　now　dwell……before　me　the　green　valley　of　the　broadening　Exe　and　the　pine…clad　ridge　of　Haldon。　That　was　one　of　the　moments　of　my　life　y　state　of　mind　was　very　strange。　Though　as　boy　and　youth　I　had　been　familiar　with　the　country；　had　seen　much　of　England's　beauties；　it　was　as　though　I　found　myself　for　the　first　time　before　a　natural　landscape。　Those　years　of　London　had　obscured　all　my　earlier　life；　I　was　like　a　man　town…born　and　bred；　who　scarce　knows　anything　but　street　vistas。　The　light；　the　air；　had　for　me　something　of　the　supernatural……affected　me；　indeed；　only　less　than　at　a　later　time　did　the　atmosphere　of　Italy。　It　was　glorious　spring　weather；　a　few　white　clouds　floated　amid　the　blue；　and　the　earth　had　an　intoxicating　fragrance。　Then　first　did　I　know　myself　for　a　sun…　worshipper。　How　had　I　lived　so　long　without　asking　whether　there　was　a　sun　in　the　heavens　or　not？　Under　that　radiant　firmament；　I　could　have　thrown　myself　upon　my　knees　in　adoration。　As　I　walked；　I　found　myself　avoiding　every　strip　of　shadow；　were　it　but　that　of　a　birch　trunk；　I　felt　as　if　it　robbed　me　of　the　day's　delight。　I　went　bare…headed；　that　the　golden　beams　might　shed　upon　me　their　unstinted　blessing。　That　day　I　must　have　walked　some　thirty　miles；　yet　I　knew　not　fatigue。　Could　I　but　have　once　more　the　strength　which　then　supported　me！
I　had　stepped　into　a　new　life。　Between　the　man　I　had　been　and　that　which　I　now　became　there　was　a　very　notable　difference。　In　a　single　day　I　had　matured　astonishingly；　which　means；　no　doubt；　that　I　suddenly　entered　into　conscious　enjoyment　of　powers　and　sensibilities　which　had　been　developing　unknown　to　me。　To　instance　only　one　point：　till　then　I　had　cared　very　little　about　plants　and　flowers；　but　now　I　found　myself　eagerly　interested　in　every　blossom；　in　every　growth　of　the　wayside。　As　I　walked　I　gathered　a　quantity　of　plants；　promising　myself　to　buy　a　book　on　the　morrow　and　identify　them　all。　Nor　was　it　a　passing　humour；　never　since　have　I　lost　my　pleasure　in　the　flowers　of　the　field；　and　my　desire　to　know　them　all。　My　ignorance　at　the　time　of　which　I　speak　seems　to　me　now　very　shameful；　but　I　was　merely　in　the　case　of　ordinary　people；　whether　living　in　town　or　country。　How　many　could　give　the　familiar　name　of　half　a　dozen　plants　plucked　at　random　from　beneath　the　hedge　in　springtime？　To　me　the　flowers　became　symbolical　of　a　great　release；　of　a　wonderful　awakening。　My　eyes　had　all　at　once　been　opened；　till　then　I　had　walked　in　darkness；　yet　knew　it　not。
Well　do　I　remember　the　rambles　of　that　springtide。　I　had　a　lodging　in　one　of　those　outer　streets　of　Exeter　which　savour　more　of　country　than　of　town；　and　every　morning　I　set　forth　to　make　discoveries。　The　weather　could　not　have　been　more　kindly；　I　felt　the　influences　of　a　climate　I　had　never　known；　there　was　a　balm　in　the　air　which　soothed　no　less　than　it　exhilarated　me。　Now　inland；　now　seaward；　I　followed　the　windings　of　the　Exe。　One　day　I　wandered　in　rich；　warm　valleys；　by　orchards　bursting　into　bloom；　from　farmhouse　to　farmhouse；　each　more　beautiful　than　the　other；　and　from　hamlet　to　hamlet　bowered　amid　dark　evergreens；　the　next；　I　was　on　pine…clad　heights；　gazing　over　moorland　brown　with　last　year's　heather；　feeling　upon　my　face　a　wind　from　the　white…flecked　Channel。　So　intense　was　my　delight　in　the　beautiful　world　about　me　that　I　forgot　even　myself；　I　enjoyed　without　retrospect　or　forecast；　I；　the　egoist　in　grain；　forgot　to　scrutinize　my　own　emotions；　or　to　trouble　my　happiness　by　parison　with　others'　happier　fortune。　It　was　a　healthful　time；　it　gave　me　a　new　lease　of　life；　and　taught　me……in　so　far　as　I　was　teachable……how　to　make　use　of　it。
X
Mentally　and　physically；　I　must　be　much　older　than　my　years。　At　three…and…fifty　a　man　ought　not　to　be　brooding　constantly　on　his　vanished　youth。　These　days　of　spring　which　I　should　be　enjoying　for　their　own　sake；　do　but　turn　me　to　reminiscence；　and　my　memories　are　of　the　springs　that　were　lost。
Some　day　I　will　go　to　London　and　revisit　all　the　places　where　I　housed　in　the　time　of　my　greatest　poverty。　I　have　not　seen　them　for　a　quarter　of　a　century　or　so。　Not　long　ago；　had　any　one　asked　me　how　I　felt　about　these　memories；　I　should　have　said　that　there　were　certain　street　names；　certain　mental　images　of　obscure　London；　which　made　me　wretched　as　often　as　they　came　before　me；　but；　in　truth；　it　is　a　very　long　time　since　I　was　moved　to　any　sort　of　bitterness　by　that　retrospect　of　things　hard　and　squalid。　Now；　owning　all　the　misery　of　it　in　parison　with　what　should　have　been；　I　find　that　part　of　life　interesting　and　pleasant　to　look　back　upon……greatly　more　so　than　many　subsequent　times；　when　I　lived　amid　decencies　and　had　enough　to　eat。　Some　day　I　will　go　to　London；　and　spend　a　day　or　two　amid　the　dear　old　horrors。　Some　of　the　places；　I　know；　have　disappeared。　I　see　the　winding　way　by　which　I　went　from　Oxford　Street；　at　the　foot　of　Tottenham　Court　Road；　to　Leicester　Square；　and；　somewhere　in　the　labyrinth　（I　think　of　it　as　always　foggy　and　gas…lit）　was　a　shop　which　had　pies　and　puddings　in　the　window；　puddings　and　pies　kept　hot　by　steam　rising　through　perforated　metal。　How　many　a　time　have　I　stood　there；　raging　with　hunger；　unable　to　purchase　even　one　pennyworth　of　food！　The　shop　and　the　street　have　long　since　vanished；　does　any　man　remember　them　so　feelingly　as　I？　But　I　think　most　of　my　haunts　are　still　in　existence：　to　tread　again　those　pavements；　to　look　at　those　grimy　doorways　and　purblind　windows；　would　affect　me　strangely。
I　see　that　alley　hidden　on　the　west　side　of　Tottenham　Court　Road；　where；　after　living　in　a　back　bedroom　on　the　top　floor；　I　had　to　exchange　for　the　front　cellar；　there　was　a　difference；　if　I　remember　rightly；　of　sixpence　a　week；　and　sixpence；　in　those　days；　was　a　very　great　consideration……why；　it　meant　a　couple　of　meals。　（I　once　FOUND　sixpence　in　the　street；　and　had　an　exultation　which　is　vivid　in　me　at　this　moment。）　The　front　cellar　was　stone…floored；　its　furniture　was　a　table；　a　chair；　a　wash…stand；　and　a　bed；　the　window；　which　of　course　had　never　been　cleaned　since　it　was　put　in；　received　light　through　a　flat　grating　in　the　alley　above。　Here　I　lived；　here　I　WROTE。　Yes；　〃literary　work〃　was　done　at　that　filthy　deal　table；　on　which；　by　the　bye；　lay　my　Homer；　my　Shakespeare；　and　the　few　other　books　I　then　possessed。　At　night；　as　I　lay　in　bed；　I　used　to　hear　the　tramp；　tramp　of　a　posse　of　policemen　who　passed　along　the　alley　on　their　way　to　relieve　guard；　their　heavy　feet　sometimes　sounded　on　the　grating　above　my　window。
I　recall　a　tragi…ical　incident　of　life　at　the　British　Museum。　Once；　on　going　down　into　the　lavatory　to　wash　my　hands；　I　became　aware　of　a　notice　newly　set　up　above　the　row　of　basins。　It　ran　somehow　thus：　〃Readers　are　requested　to　bear　in　mind　that　these　basins　are　to　be　used　only　for　casual　ablutions。〃　Oh；　the　significance　of　that　inscription！　Had　I　not　myself；　more　than　once；　been　glad　to　use　this　soap　and　water　more　largely　than　the　sense　of　the　authorities　contemplated？　And　there　were　poor　fellows　working　under　the　great　dome　whose　need；　in　this　respect；　was　greater　than　mine。　I　laughed　heartily　at　the　notice；　but　it　meant　so　much。
Some　of　my　abodes　I　have　utterly　forgotten；　for　one　reason　or　another；　I　was　always　moving……an　easy　matter　when　all　my　poss