the golden age(金色时代)-第19节
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different from the others in its masterful suggestion of a serious purpose；
speeding you along with a strange uplifting of the heart。 The others
tempted chiefly with their treasures of hedge and ditch； the rapt surprise of
the first lords…and…ladies； the rustle of a field…mouse； splash of a frog；
while cool noses of brother…beasts were pushed at you through gate or gap。
A loiterer you had need to be； did you choose one of them；so many were
the tiny hands thrust out to detain you； from this side and that。 But this
other was of a sterner sort； and even in its shedding off of bank and
hedgerow as it marched straight and full for the open downs； it seemed to
declare its contempt for adventitious trappings to catch the shallow…pated。
When the sense of injustice or disappointment was heavy on me； and
things were very black within； as on this particular day； the road of
character was my choice for that solitary ramble； when I turned my back
for an afternoon on a world that had unaccountably declared itself against
me。
〃The Knights' Road；〃 we children had named it； from a sort of feeling
that； if from any quarter at all； it would be down this track we might some
day see Lancelot and his peers come pacing on their great war…horses；
supposing that any of the stout band still survived； in nooks and
unexplored places。 Grown…up people sometimes spoke of it as the
〃Pilgrims' Way〃； but I didn't know much about pilgrims；except Walter in
the Horselberg story。 Him I sometimes saw； breaking with haggard eyes
out of yonder copse； and calling to the pilgrims as they hurried along on
their desperate march to the Holy City； where peace and pardon were
awaiting them。 〃All roads lead to Rome；〃 I had once heard somebody
say； and I had taken the remark very seriously； of course； and puzzled over
it many days。 There must have been some mistake； I concluded at last；
but of one road at least I intuitively felt it to be true。 And my belief was
clinched by something that fell from Miss Smedley during a history lesson；
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about a strange road that ran right down the middle of England till it
reached the coast； and then began again in France； just opposite； and so on
undeviating； through city and vineyard； right from the misty Highlands to
the Eternal City。 Uncorroborated； any statement of Miss Smedley's
usually fell on incredulous ears； but here； with the road itself in evidence；
she seemed； once； in a way； to have strayed into truth。
Rome！ It was fascinating to think that it lay at the other end of this
white ribbon that rolled itself off from my feet over the distant downs。 I
was not quite so uninstructed as to imagine l could reach it that afternoon；
but some day； I thought； if things went on being as unpleasant as they were
now；some day； when Aunt Eliza had gone on a visit；we would see。
I tried to imagine what it would be like when I got there。 The
Coliseum I knew； of course； from a woodcut in the history…book： so to
begin with I plumped that down in the middle。 The rest had to be
patched up from the little grey market…town where twice a year we went to
have our hair cut； hence； in the result； Vespasian's amphitheatre was
approached by muddy little streets； wherein the Red Lion and the Blue
Boar； with Somebody's Entire along their front； and 〃Commercial Room〃
on their windows； the doctor's house； of substantial red…brick； and the
facade of the New Wesleyan Chapel； which we thought very fine； were the
chief architectural ornaments： while the Roman populace pottered about in
smocks and corduroys； twisting the tails of Roman calves and inviting
each other to beer in musical Wessex。 From Rome I drifted on to other
cities； dimly heard ofDamascus； Brighton （Aunt Eliza's ideal）； Athens；
and Glasgow； whose glories the gardener sang； but there was a certain
sameness in my conception of all of them： that Wesleyan chapel would
keep cropping up everywhere。 It was easier to go a…building among
those dream… cities where no limitations were imposed； and one was sole
architect； with a free hand。 Down a delectable street of cloud… built
palaces I was mentally pacing； when I happened upon the Artist。
He was seated at work by the roadside； at a point whence the cool
large spaces of the downs； juniper…studded； swept grandly westwards。
His attributes proclaimed him of the artist tribe： besides； he wore
knickerbockers like myself；a garb confined； I was aware； to boys and
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artists。 I knew I was not to bother him with questions； nor look over his
shoulder and breathe in his earthey didn't like it； this genus irritabile； but
there was nothing about staring in my code of instructions； the point
having somehow been overlooked： so； squatting down on the grass； I
devoted myself to a passionate absorbing of every detail。 At the end of
five minutes there was not a button on him that I could not have passed an
examination in； and the wearer himself of that homespun suit was
probably less familiar with its pattern and texture than I was。 Once he
looked up； nodded； half held out his tobacco pouch；mechanically； as it
were；then； returning it to his pocket； resumed his work； and I my mental
photography。
After another five minutes or so had passed he remarked； without
looking my way： 〃Fine afternoon we're having： going far to…day？〃
〃No； I'm not going any farther than this；〃 I replied； 〃I WAS thinking of
going on to Rome but I've put it off。〃
〃Pleasant place； Rome；〃 he murmured； 〃you'll like it。〃 It was some
minutes later that he added： 〃But I wouldn't go just now； if I were you；
too jolly hot。〃
〃YOU haven't been to Rome； have you？〃 I inquired。
〃Rather；〃 he replied； briefly； 〃I live there。〃
This was too much； and my jaw dropped as I struggled to grasp the
fact that I was sitting there talking to a fellow who lived in Rome。
Speech was out of the question： besides； I had other things to do。 Ten
solid minutes had I already spent in an examination of him as a mere
stranger and artist； and now the whole thing had to be done over again；
from the changed point of view。 So I began afresh； at the crown of his
soft hat； and worked down to his solid British shoes； this time investing
everything with the new Roman halo； and at last I managed to get out：
〃But you don't really live there； do you？〃 never doubting the fact； but
wanting to hear it repeated。
〃Well；〃 he said； good…naturedly overlooking the slight rudeness of my
query； 〃I live there as much as l live anywhere；about half the year
sometimes。 I've got a sort of a shanty there。 You must come and see it
some day。〃
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〃But do you live anywhere else as well？〃 I went on； feeling the
forbidden tide of questions surging up within me。
〃O yes； all over the place；〃 was his vague reply。 〃And I've got a
diggings somewhere off Piccadilly。〃
〃Where's that？〃 I inquired。
〃Where's what？〃 said he。 〃Oh； Piccadilly！ It's in London。〃
〃Have you a large garden？〃 I asked； 〃and how many pigs have you
got？〃
〃I've no garden at all；〃 he replied； sadly； 〃and they don't allow me to
keep pigs； though I'd like to； awfully。 It's very hard。〃
〃But what do you do all day； then；〃 I cried； 〃and where do you go and
play； without any garden； or pigs； or things？〃
〃When I want to play；〃 he said；
