the idle thoughts of an idle fellow[1].(一个浪子的随想)-第4节
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whatever； being a listless effeminate noodle； on the shady side of forty。
But oh！ the depth and strength of this elderly party's emotion for some
bread…and…butter school…girl！ Hide your heads； ye young Romeos and
Leanders！ this _blase_ old beau loves with an hysterical fervor that
requires four adjectives to every noun to properly describe。
It is well； dear ladies； for us old sinners that you study only books。 Did
you read mankind； you would know that the lad's shy stammering tells a
truer tale than our bold eloquence。 A boy's love comes from a full heart； a
man's is more often the result of a full stomach。 Indeed； a man's sluggish
current may not be called love； compared with the rushing fountain that
wells up when a boy's heart is struck with the heavenly rod。 If you would
taste love； drink of the pure stream that youth pours out at your feet。 Do
not wait till it has become a muddy river before you stoop to catch its
waves。
Or is it that you like its bitter flavorthat the clear； limpid water is
insipid to your palate and that the pollution of its after…course gives it a
relish to your lips？ Must we believe those who tell us that a hand foul with
the filth of a shameful life is the only one a young girl cares to be caressed
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THE IDLE THOUGHTS OF AN IDLE FELLOW。
by？
That is the teaching that is bawled out day by day from between those
yellow covers。 Do they ever pause to think； I wonder； those devil's
ladyhelps； what mischief they are doing crawling about God's garden； and
telling childish Eves and silly Adams that sin is sweet and that decency is
ridiculous and vulgar？ How many an innocent girl do they not degrade
into an evil…minded woman？ To how many a weak lad do they not point
out the dirty by…path as the shortest cut to a maiden's heart？ It is not as if
they wrote of life as it really is。 Speak truth； and right will take care of
itself。 But their pictures are coarse daubs painted from the sickly fancies of
their own diseased imagination。
We want to think of women notas their own sex would show them
as Lorleis luring us to destruction； but as good angels beckoning us
upward。 They have more power for good or evil than they dream of。 It is
just at the very age when a man's character is forming that he tumbles into
love； and then the lass he loves has the making or marring of him。
Unconsciously he molds himself to what she would have him； good or bad。
I am sorry to have to be ungallant enough to say that I do not think they
always use their influence for the best。 Too often the female world is
bounded hard and fast within the limits of the commonplace。 Their ideal
hero is a prince of littleness； and to become that many a powerful mind；
enchanted by love； is 〃lost to life and use and name and fame。〃
And yet； women； you could make us so much better if you only would。
It rests with you； more than with all the preachers； to roll this world a little
nearer heaven。 Chivalry is not dead： it only sleeps for want of work to do。
It is you who must wake it to noble deeds。 You must be worthy of knightly
worship。
You must be higher than ourselves。 It was for Una that the Red Cross
Knight did war。 For no painted； mincing court dame could the dragon have
been slain。 Oh； ladies fair； be fair in mind and soul as well as face； so that
brave knights may win glory in your service！ Oh； woman； throw off your
disguising cloaks of selfishness； effrontery； and affectation！ Stand forth
once more a queen in your royal robe of simple purity。 A thousand swords；
now rusting in ignoble sloth； shall leap from their scabbards to do battle
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THE IDLE THOUGHTS OF AN IDLE FELLOW。
for your honor against wrong。 A thousand Sir Rolands shall lay lance in
rest； and Fear； Avarice； Pleasure； and Ambition shall go down in the dust
before your colors。
What noble deeds were we not ripe for in the days when we loved？
What noble lives could we not have lived for her sake？ Our love was a
religion we could have died for。 It was no mere human creature like
ourselves that we adored。 It was a queen that we paid homage to； a
goddess that we worshiped。
And how madly we did worship！ And how sweet it was to worship！ Ah；
lad； cherish love's young dream while it lasts！ You will know too soon
how truly little Tom Moore sang when he said that there was nothing half
so sweet in life。 Even when it brings misery it is a wild； romantic misery；
all unlike the dull； worldly pain of after…sorrows。 When you have lost her
when the light is gone out from your life and the world stretches before
you a long； dark horror； even then a half…enchantment mingles with your
despair。
And who would not risk its terrors to gain its raptures？ Ah； what
raptures they were！ The mere recollection thrills you。 How delicious it was
to tell her that you loved her； that you lived for her； that you would die for
her！ How you did rave； to be sure； what floods of extravagant nonsense
you poured forth； and oh； how cruel it was of her to pretend not to believe
you！ In what awe you stood of her！ How miserable you were when you
had offended her！ And yet； how pleasant to be bullied by her and to sue for
pardon without having the slightest notion of what your fault was！ How
dark the world was when she snubbed you； as she often did； the little
rogue； just to see you look wretched； how sunny when she smiled！ How
jealous you were of every one about her！ How you hated every man she
shook hands with； every woman she kissedthe maid that did her hair； the
boy that cleaned her shoes； the dog she nursedthough you had to be
respectful to the last…named！ How you looked forward to seeing her； how
stupid you were when you did see her； staring at her without saying a word！
How impossible it was for you to go out at any time of the day or night
without finding yourself eventually opposite her windows！ You hadn't
pluck enough to go in； but you hung about the corner and gazed at the
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outside。 Oh； if the house had only caught fireit was insured； so it
wouldn't have matteredand you could have rushed in and saved her at the
risk of your life； and have been terribly burned and injured！ Anything to
serve her。 Even in little things that was so sweet。 How you would watch
her； spaniel…like； to anticipate her slightest wish！ How proud you were to
do her bidding！ How delightful it was to be ordered about by her！ To
devote your whole life to her and to never think of yourself seemed such a
simple thing。 You would go without a holiday to lay a humble offering at
her shrine； and felt more than repaid if she only deigned to accept it。 How
precious to you was everything that she had hallowed by her touchher
little glove； the ribbon she had worn； the rose that had nestled in her hair
and whose withered leaves still mark the poems you never care to look at
now。
And oh； how beautiful she was； how wondrous beautiful！ It was as
some angel entering the room； and all else became plain and earthly。 She
was too sacred to be touched。 It seemed almost presumption to gaze at her。
You would as soon have thought of kissing her as of singing comic songs
in a cathedral。 It was desecration enough to kneel and timidly raise the
gracious little hand to your lips。
Ah； those foolish days； those foolish days when we were unselfish and
pure…minded； those foolish days when our simple hearts were full of truth；
and faith； and reverence！ Ah； those foolish days of noble longings and of
noble strivings！ And oh； these wise； clever days when we know that
money is the only prize worth striving for； when we believe in nothing
else but meanness and lies； when we care for no living creature but
ourselves！
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THE IDLE THOUGHTS OF AN IDLE FELLOW。
ON BEING IN THE BL
