四季随笔-the private papers of henry ryecroft(英文版)-第40部分

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　have　been　at　work　during　the　last　thirty　years；　and　it　is　difficult；　nay　impossible；　to　ascertain　in　what　degree　they　have　affected　the　national　character；　thus　far。　One　notes　the　obvious：　decline　of　conventional　religion；　free　discussion　of　the　old　moral　standards；　therewith；　a　growth　of　materialism　which　favours　every　anarchic　tendency。　Is　it　to　be　feared　that　self…righteousness　may　be　degenerating　into　the　darker　vice　of　true　hypocrisy？　For　the　English　to　lose　belief　in　themselves……not　merely　in　their　potential　goodness；　but　in　their　pre…eminence　as　examples　and　agents　of　good……would　mean　as　hopeless　a　national　corruption　as　any　recorded　in　history。　To　doubt　their　genuine　worship；　in　the　past；　of　a　very　high　（though　not；　of　course；　the　highest）　ethical　ideal；　is　impossible　for　any　one　born　and　bred　in　England；　no　less　impossible　to　deny　that　those　who　are　rightly　deemed　〃best〃　among　us；　the　men　and　women　of　gentle　or　humble　birth　who　are　not　infected　by　the　evils　of　the　new　spirit；　still　lead；　in　a　very　true　sense；　〃honest；　sober；　and　godly〃　lives。　Such　folk；　one　knows；　were　never　in　a　majority；　but　of　old　they　had　a　power　which　made　them　veritable　representatives　of　the　English　ETHOS。　If　they　thought　highly　of　themselves；　why；　the　fact　justified　them；　if　they　spoke；　at　times；　as　Pharisees；　it　was　a　fault　of　temper　which　carried　with　it　no　grave　condemnation。　Hypocrisy　was；　of　all　forms　of　baseness；　that　which　they　most　abhorred。　So　is　it　still　with　their　descendants。　Whether　these　continue　to　speak　among　us　with　authority；　no　man　can　certainly　say。　If　their　power　is　lost；　and　those　who　talk　of　English　hypocrisy　no　longer　use　the　word　amiss；　we　shall　soon　know　it。
XXII
It　is　time　that　we　gave　a　second　thought　to　Puritanism。　In　the　heyday　of　release　from　forms　which　had　lost　their　meaning；　it　was　natural　to　look　back　on　that　period　of　our　history　with　eyes　that　saw　in　it　nothing　but　fanatical　excess；　we　approved　the　picturesque　phrase　which　showed　the　English　mind　going　into　prison　and　having　the　key　turned　upon　it。　Now；　when　the　peril　of　emancipation　bees　as　manifest　as　was　the　hardship　of　restraint；　we　shall　do　well　to　remember　all　the　good　that　lay　in　that　stern　Puritan　discipline；　how　it　renewed　the　spiritual　vitality　of　our　race；　and　made　for　the　civic　freedom　which　is　our　highest　national　privilege。　An　age　of　intellectual　glory　is　wont　to　be　paid　for　in　the　general　decline　of　that　which　follows。　Imagine　England　under　Stuart　rule；　with　no　faith　but　the　Protestantism　of　the　Tudor。　Imagine　（not　to　think　of　worse）　English　literature　represented　by　Cowley；　and　the　name　of　Milton　unknown。　The　Puritan　came　as　the　physician；　he　brought　his　tonic　at　the　moment　when　lassitude　and　supineness　would　naturally　have　followed　upon　a　supreme　display　of　racial　vitality。　Regret；　if　you　will；　that　England　turned　for　her　religion　to　the　books　of　Israel；　this　suddenly　revealed　sympathy　of　our　race　with　a　fierce　Oriental　theocracy　is　perhaps　not　difficult　to　explain；　but　one　cannot　help　wishing　that　its　piety　had　taken　another　form；　later；　there　had　to　e　the　〃exodus　from　Houndsditch；〃　with　how　much　conflict　and　misery！　Such；　however；　was　the　price　of　the　soul's　health；　we　must　accept　the　fact；　and　be　content　to　see　its　better　meaning。　Health；　of　course；　in　speaking　of　mankind；　is　always　a　relative　term。　From　the　point　of　view　of　a　conceivable　civilization；　Puritan　England　was　lamentably　ailing；　but　we　must　always　ask；　not　how　much　better　off　a　people　might　be；　but　how　much　worse。　Of　all　theological　systems；　the　most　convincing　is　Manicheism；　which；　of　course；　under　another　name；　was　held　by　the　Puritans　themselves。　What　we　call　Restoration　morality……the　morality；　that　is　to　say；　of　a　king　and　court……might　well　have　bee　that　of　the　nation　at　large　under　a　Stuart　dynasty　safe　from　religious　revolution。
The　political　services　of　Puritanism　were　inestimable；　they　will　be　more　feelingly　remembered　when　England　has　once　more　to　face　the　danger　of　political　tyranny。　I　am　thinking　now　of　its　effects　upon　social　life。　To　it　we　owe　the　characteristic　which；　in　some　other　countries；　is　expressed　by　the　term　English　prudery；　the　accusation　implied　being　part　of　the　general　charge　of　hypocrisy。　It　is　said　by　observers　among　ourselves　that　the　prudish　habit　of　mind　is　dying　out；　and　this　is　looked　upon　as　a　satisfactory　thing；　as　a　sign　of　healthy　emancipation。　If　by　prude　be　meant　a　secretly　vicious　person　who　affects　an　excessive　decorum；　by　all　means　let　the　prude　disappear；　even　at　the　cost　of　some　shamelessness。　If；　on　the　other　hand；　a　prude　is　one　who；　living　a　decent　life；　cultivates；　either　by　bent　or　principle；　a　somewhat　extreme　delicacy　of　thought　and　speech　with　regard　to　elementary　facts　of　human　nature；　then　I　say　that　this　is　most　emphatically　a　fault　in　the　right　direction；　and　I　have　no　desire　to　see　its　prevalence　diminish。　On　the　whole；　it　is　the　latter　meaning　which　certain　foreigners　have　in　mind　when　they　speak　of　English　prudery……at　all　events；　as　exhibited　by　women；　it　being；　not　so　much　an　imputation　on　chastity；　as　a　charge　of　conceited　foolishness。　An　English　woman　who　typifies　the　begueule　may　be　spotless　as　snow；　but　she　is　presumed　to　have　snow's　other　quality；　and　at　the　same　time　to　be　a　thoroughly　absurd　and　intolerable　creature。　Well；　here　is　the　point　of　difference。　Fastidiousness　of　speech　is　not　a　direct　oute　of　Puritanism；　as　our　literature　sufficiently　proves；　it　is　a　refinement　of　civilization　following　upon　absorption　into　the　national　life　of　all　the　best　things　which　Puritanism　had　to　teach。　We　who　know　English　women　by　the　experience　of　a　lifetime　are　well　aware　that　their　careful　choice　of　language　betokens；　far　more　often　than　not；　a　corresponding　delicacy　of　mind。　Landor　saw　it　as　a　ridiculous　trait　that　English　people　were　so　mealy…mouthed　in　speaking　of　their　bodies；　De　Quincey；　taking　him　to　task　for　this　remark；　declared　it　a　proof　of　blunted　sensibility　due　to　long　residence　in　Italy；　and；　whether　the　particular　explanation　held　good　or　not；　as　regards　the　question　at　issue；　De　Quincey　was　perfectly　right。　It　is　very　good　to　be　mealy…mouthed　with　respect　to　everything　that　reminds　us　of　the　animal　in　man。　Verbal　delicacy　in　itself　will　not　prove　an　advanced　civilization；　but　civilization；　as　it　advances；　assuredly　tends　that　way。
XXIII
All　through　the　morning；　the　air　was　held　in　an　ominous　stillness。　Sitting　over　my　books；　I　seemed　to　feel　the　silence；　when　I　turned　my　look　to　the　window；　I　saw　nothing　but　the　broad；　grey　sky；　a　featureless　expanse；　cold；　melancholy。　Later；　just　as　I　was　bestirring　myself　to　go　out　for　an　afternoon　walk；　something　white　fell　softly　across　my　vision。　A　few　minutes　more；　and　all　was　hidden　with　a　descending　veil　of　silent　snow。
It　is　a　disappointment。　Yesterday　I　half　believed　that　the　winter　drew　to　its　end；　the　breath　of　the　hills　was　soft；　spaces　of　limpid　azure　shone　amid　slow…drifting　clouds；　and　seemed　the　promise　of　spring。　Idle　by　the　fireside；　in　the　gathering　dusk；　I　began　to　long　for　the　days　of　light　and　warmth。　My　fancy　wandered；　leading　me　far　and　wide　in　a　dream　of　summer　England。　。　。　。
This　is　the　valley　of　the　Blythe。　The　stream　ripples　and　glances　over　its　brown　bed　warmed　with　sunbeams；　by　its　bank　the　green　flags　wave　and　rustle；　and；　all　about；　the　meadows　shine　in　pure　gold　of　buttercups。　The　hawthorn　hedges　are　a　mass　of　gleaming　blossom；　which　scents　the　breeze。　There　above　rises　the　heath；　yellow…　mantled　with　gorse；　and　beyond；　if　I　walk　for　an　hour　or　two；　I　shall　e　out　upon　the　sandy　cliffs　of　Suffolk；　and　look　over　the　northern　sea。　。　。　。
I　am　in　Wensleydale；　climbing　from　the　rocky　river　that　leaps　amid　broad　pastures　up　to　the　rolling　moor。　Up　and　up；　till　my　feet　brush　through　heather；　and　the　grouse　whirrs　away　before　me。　Under　a　glowing　sky　of　summer；　this　air　of　the　uplands　has　still　a　life　which　spurs　to　movement；　which　makes　the　heart　bound。　The　dale　is　hidden；　I　see　only　the　brown　and　purple　wilderness；　cutting　against　the　blue　with　great　round　shoulders；　and；　far　away　to　the　west；　an　horizon　of　sombre　heights。　。　。　。
I　ramble　through　a　village　in　Gloucestershire；　a　village　which　seems　forsaken　in　this　drowsy　warmth　of　the　afternoon