idle thoughts of an idle fellow- 第20部分

How　a　young　lover　made　ridiculous　by　the　gawkiness　of　modern　costume　must　envy　the　picturesque　gallants　of　seventy　years　ago！　　Look　at　them　（on　the　Christmas　cards）；　with　their　curly　hair　and　natty　hats；　their　well…shaped　legs　incased　in　smalls；　their　dainty　Hessian　boots；　their　ruffling　frills；　their　canes　and　dangling　seals。　　No　wonder　the　little　maiden　in　the　big　poke…bonnet　and　the　light…blue　sash　casts　down　her　eyes　and　is　completely　won。　　Men　could　win　hearts　in　clothes　like　that。　　But　what　can　you　expect　from　baggy　trousers　and　a　monkeyjacket？

Clothes　have　more　effect　upon　us　than　we　imagine。　　Our　deportment　depends　upon　our　dress。　　Make　a　man　get　into　seedy；　worn…out　rags；　and　he　will　skulk　along　with　his　head　hanging　down；　like　a　man　going　out　to　fetch　his　own　supper　beer。　　But　deck　out　the　same　article　in　gorgeous　raiment　and　fine　linen；　and　he　will　strut　down　the　main　thoroughfare；　swinging　his　cane　and　looking　at　the　girls　as　perky　as　a　bantam　cock。

Clothes　alter　our　very　nature。　　A　man　could　not　help　being　fierce　and　daring　with　a　plume　in　his　bonnet；　a　dagger　in　his　belt；　and　a　lot　of　puffy　white　things　all　down　his　sleeves。　　But　in　an　ulster　he　wants　to　get　behind　a　lamp…post　and　call　police。

I　am　quite　ready　to　admit　that　you　can　find　sterling　merit；　honest　worth；　deep　affection；　and　all　such　like　virtues　of　the　roast…beef…and…plum…pudding　school　as　much；　and　perhaps　more；　under　broadcloth　and　tweed　as　ever　existed　beneath　silk　and　velvet；　but　the　spirit　of　that　knightly　chivalry　that　〃rode　a　tilt　for　lady's　love〃　and　〃fought　for　lady's　smiles〃　needs　the　clatter　of　steel　and　the　rustle　of　plumes　to　summon　it　from　its　grave　between　the　dusty　folds　of　tapestry　and　underneath　the　musty　leaves　of　moldering　chronicles。

The　world　must　be　getting　old；　I　think；　it　dresses　so　very　soberly　now。　　We　have　been　through　the　infant　period　of　humanity；　when　we　used　to　run　about　with　nothing　on　but　a　long；　loose　robe；　and　liked　to　have　our　feet　bare。　　And　then　came　the　rough；　barbaric　age；　the　boyhood　of　our　race。　　We　didn't　care　what　we　wore　then；　but　thought　it　nice　to　tattoo　ourselves　all　over；　and　we　never　did　our　hair。　　And　after　that　the　world　grew　into　a　young　man　and　became　foppish。　　It　decked　itself　in　flowing　curls　and　scarlet　doublets；　and　went　courting；　and　bragging；　and　bouncingmaking　a　brave　show。

But　all　those　merry；　foolish　days　of　youth　are　gone；　and　we　are　very　sober；　very　solemnand　very　stupid；　some　saynow。　　The　world　is　a　grave；　middle…aged　gentleman　in　this　nineteenth　century；　and　would　be　shocked　to　see　itself　with　a　bit　of　finery　on。　　So　it　dresses　in　black　coats　and　trousers；　and　black　hats；　and　black　boots；　and；　dear　me；　it　is　such　a　very　respectable　gentlemanto　think　it　could　ever　have　gone　gadding　about　as　a　troubadour　or　a　knight…errant；　dressed　in　all　those　fancy　colors！　　Ah；　well！　we　are　more　sensible　in　this　age。

Or　at　least　we　think　ourselves　so。　　It　is　a　general　theory　nowadays　that　sense　and　dullness　go　together。

Goodness　is　another　quality　that　always　goes　with　blackness。　　Very　good　people　indeed；　you　will　notice；　dress　altogether　in　black；　even　to　gloves　and　neckties；　and　they　will　probably　take　to　black　shirts　before　long。　　Medium　goods　indulge　in　light　trousers　on　week…days；　and　some　of　them　even　go　so　far　as　to　wear　fancy　waistcoats。　　On　the　other　hand；　people　who　care　nothing　for　a　future　state　go　about　in　light　suits；　and　there　have　been　known　wretches　so　abandoned　as　to　wear　a　white　hat。　　Such　people；　however；　are　never　spoken　of　in　genteel　society；　and　perhaps　I　ought　not　to　have　referred　to　them　here。

By　the　way；　talking　of　light　suits；　have　you　ever　noticed　how　people　stare　at　you　the　first　time　you　go　out　in　a　new　light　suit　　They　do　not　notice　it　so　much　afterward。　　The　population　of　London　have　got　accustomed　to　it　by　the　third　time　you　wear　it。　　I　say　〃you；〃　because　I　am　not　speaking　from　my　own　experience。　　I　do　not　wear　such　things　at　all　myself。　　As　I　said；　only　sinful　people　do　so。

I　wish；　though；　it　were　not　so；　and　that　one　could　be　good；　and　respectable；　and　sensible　without　making　one's　self　a　guy。　　I　look　in　the　glass　sometimes　at　my　two　long；　cylindrical　bags　（so　picturesquely　rugged　about　the　knees）；　my　stand…up　collar　and　billycock　hat；　and　wonder　what　right　I　have　to　go　about　making　God's　world　hideous。　　Then　wild　and　wicked　thoughts　come　into　my　heart。　　I　don't　want　to　be　good　and　respectable。　　（I　never　can　be　sensible；　I'm　told；　so　that　don't　matter。）　I　want　to　put　on　lavender…colored　tights；　with　red　velvet　breeches　and　a　green　doublet　slashed　with　yellow；　to　have　a　light…blue　silk　cloak　on　my　shoulder；　and　a　black　eagle's　plume　waving　from　my　hat；　and　a　big　sword；　and　a　falcon；　and　a　lance；　and　a　prancing　horse；　so　that　I　might　go　about　and　gladden　the　eyes　of　the　people。　　Why　should　we　all　try　to　look　like　ants　crawling　over　a　dust…heap？　　Why　shouldn't　we　dress　a　little　gayly？　　I　am　sure　if　we　did　we　should　be　happier。　　True；　it　is　a　little　thing；　but　we　are　a　little　race；　and　what　is　the　use　of　our　pretending　otherwise　and　spoiling　fun？　　Let　philosophers　get　themselves　up　like　old　crows　if　they　like。　　But　let　me　be　a　butterfly。

Women；　at　all　events；　ought　to　dress　prettily。　　It　is　their　duty。　They　are　the　flowers　of　the　earth　and　were　meant　to　show　it　up。　　We　abuse　them　a　good　deal；　we　men；　but；　goodness　knows；　the　old　world　would　be　dull　enough　without　their　dresses　and　fair　faces。　　How　they　brighten　up　every　place　they　come　into！　　What　a　sunny　commotion　theyrelations；　of　course…make　in　our　dingy　bachelor　chambers！　and　what　a　delightful　litter　their　ribbons　and　laces；　and　gloves　and　hats；　and　parasols　and　'kerchiefs　make！　　It　is　as　if　a　wandering　rainbow　had　dropped　in　to　pay　us　a　visit。

It　is　one　of　the　chief　charms　of　the　summer；　to　my　mind；　the　way　our　little　maids　come　out　in　pretty　colors。　　I　like　to　see　the　pink　and　blue　and　white　glancing　between　the　trees；　dotting　the　green　fields；　and　flashing　back　the　sunlight。　　You　can　see　the　bright　colors　such　a　long　way　off。　　There　are　four　white　dresses　climbing　a　hill　in　front　of　my　window　now。　　I　can　see　them　distinctly；　though　it　is　three　miles　away。　　I　thought　at　first　they　were　mile…stones　out　for　a　lark。　　It's　so　nice　to　be　able　to　see　the　darlings　a　long　way　off。　　Especially　if　they　happen　to　be　your　wife　and　your　mother…in…law。

Talking　of　fields　and　mile…stones　reminds　me　that　I　want　to　say；　in　all　seriousness；　a　few　words　about　women's　boots。　　The　women　of　these　islands　all　wear　boots　too　big　for　them。　　They　can　never　get　a　boot　to　fit。　　The　bootmakers　do　not　keep　sizes　small　enough。

Over　and　over　again　have　I　known　women　sit　down　on　the　top　rail　of　a　stile　and　declare　they　could　not　go　a　step　further　because　their　boots　hurt　them　so；　and　it　has　always　been　the　same　complainttoo　big。

It　is　time　this　state　of　things　was　altered。　　In　the　name　of　the　husbands　and　fathers　of　England；　I　call　upon　the　bootmakers　to　reform。　Our　wives；　our　daughters；　and　our　cousins　are　not　to　be　lamed　and　tortured　with　impunity。　　Why　cannot　〃narrow　twos〃　be　kept　more　in　stock？　　That　is　the　size　I　find　most　women　take。

The　waist…band　is　another　item　of　feminine　apparel　that　is　always　too　big。　　The　dressmakers　make　these　things　so　loose　that　the　hooks　and　eyes　by　which　they　are　fastened　burst　off；　every　now　and　then；　with　a　report　like　thunder。

Why　women　suffer　these　wrongswhy　they　do　not　insist　in　having　their　clothes　made　small　enough　for　them　I　cannot　conceive。　　It　can　hardly　be　that　they　are　disinclined　to　trouble　themselves　about　matters　of　mere　dress；　for　dress　is　the　one　subject　that　they　really　do　think　about。　　It　is　the　only　topic　they　ever　get　thoroughly　interested　in；　and　they　talk　about　it　all　day　long。　　If　you　see　two　women　together；　you　may　bet　your　bottom　dollar　they　are　discussing　their　own　or　their　friends'　clothes。　　You　notice　a　couple　of　child…like　beings　conversing　by　a　window；　and　you　wonder　what　sweet；　helpful　words　are　falling　from　their　sainted　lips。　　So　you　move　nearer　and　then　you　hear　one　say：

〃So　I　took　in　the　waist…band　and　let　out　a　seam；　and　it　fits　beautifully　now。〃

〃Well；〃　says　the　other；　〃I　shall　wear　my　plum…colored　body　to　the　Jones'；　with　a　yellow　plastron；　and　they've　got　some　lovely　gloves　at　Puttick's；　only　one　and　eleven　pence。〃

I　went　for　a　drive　through　a　part　of　Derbyshire　once　with　a　couple　of　ladies。　　It　was　a　beautiful　bit　of　country；　and　they　enjoyed　themselves　immensely。　　They　talked　dressmaking　the　whole　time。

〃Pretty　view；　that；〃　I　would　say；　waving　my　umbrella　round。　　〃Look　at　those　blue　distant　hills！　　That　little　white　speck；　nestling　in　the　woods；　is　Chatsworth；　and　over　there〃

〃Yes；　very　pretty　indeed；〃　one　would　reply。　　〃Well；　why　not　get　a　yard　of　sarsenet？〃

〃What；　and　leave　the　skirt　exactly　as　it　is？〃

〃Certainly。　　What　place　d'ye　call　this？〃

Then　I　would　draw　their　attention　to　the　fresh　beauties　that　kept　sweeping　into　view；　and　they　would　glance　round　and　say　〃charming；〃　〃sweetly　pretty；〃　and　immediately　go　off　into　raptures　over　each　other's　pocket…handkerchiefs；　and　mourn　with　one　another　over　the　decadence　of　cambric　frilling。

I　believe　if　two　women　were　cast　together　upon　a　desert　island；　they　would　spend　each　day　arguing　the　respective　merits　of　sea…shells　and　birds'　eggs　considered　as　trimmings；　and　would　have　a　new　fashion　in　fig…leaves　every　month。

Very　young　men　think　a　good　deal　about　clothes；　but　they　don't　talk　about　them　to　each　other。　　They　would　not　find　much　encouragement。　　A　fop　is　not　a　favorite　with　his　own　sex。　　Indeed；　he　gets　a　good　deal　more　abuse　from　them　than　is　necessary。　　His　is　a　harmless　failing　and　it　soon　wears　out。　　Besides；　a　man　who　has　no　foppery　at　twenty　will　be　a　slatternly；　dirty…collar；　unbrushed…coat　man　at　forty。　　A　little　foppishness　in　a　young　man　is　good；　it　is　human。　　I　like　to　see　a　young　cock　ruffle　his　feathers；　stretch　his　neck；　and　crow　as　if　the　whole　world　belonged　to　him。　　I　don't　like　a　modest；　retiring　man。　Nobody　doesnot　really；　however　much　they　may　prate　about　modest　worth　and　other　things　they　do　not　understand。

A　meek　deportment　is　a　great　mistake　in　the　world。　　Uriah　Heap's　father　was　a　very　poor　judge　of　human　nature；　or　he　would　not　have