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Idle Thoughts of an Idle Fellow-Part10_Jerome K.Jerome(1859-1927)_English Literature(文学名著)-第2页

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Can you remember, reader, when you and I felt something of the same

sort of thing? Can you remember those glorious days of fresh young



manhood--how, when coming home along the moonlit road, we felt too

full of life for sober walking, and had to spring and skip, and wave



our arms, and shout till belated farmers' wives thought--and with good

reason, too--that we were mad, and kept close to the hedge, while we



stood and laughed aloud to see them scuttle off so fast and made their

blood run cold with a wild parting whoop, and the tears came, we knew



not why? Oh, that magnificent young LIFE! that crowned us kings of

the earth; that rushed through every tingling vein till we seemed to



walk on air; that thrilled through our throbbing brains and told us to

go forth and conquer the whole world; that welled up in our young



hearts till we longed to stretch out our arms and gather all the

toiling men and women and the little children to our breast and love



them all--all. Ah! they were grand days, those deep, full days, when

our coming life, like an unseen organ, pealed strange, yearnful music



in our ears, and our young blood cried out like a war-horse for the

battle. Ah, our pulse beats slow and steady now, and our old joints



are rheumatic, and we love our easy-chair and pipe and sneer at boys'

enthusiasm. But oh for one brief moment of that god-like life again!



ON BEING SHY.

All great literary men are shy. I am myself, though I am told it is



hardly noticeable.

I am glad it is not. It used to be extremelyprominent at one time,



and was the cause of much misery to myself and discomfort to every one

about me--my lady friends especially complained most bitterly about



it.

A shy man's lot is not a happy one. The men dislike him, the women



despise him, and he dislikes and despises himself. Use brings him no

relief, and there is no cure for him except time; though I once came



across a deliciousrecipe for overcoming the misfortune. It appeared

among the "answers to correspondents" in a small weeklyjournal and



ran as follows--I have never forgotten it: "Adopt an easy and

pleasing manner, especially toward ladies."



Poor wretch! I can imagine the grin with which he must have read that

advice. "Adopt an easy and pleasing manner, especially toward



ladies," forsooth! Don't you adopt anything of the kind, my dear

young shy friend. Your attempt to put on any other disposition than



your own will infallibly result in your becoming ridiculously gushing

and offensively familiar. Be your own natural self, and then you will



only be thought to be surly and stupid.

The shy man does have some slight revenge upon society for the torture



it inflicts upon him. He is able, to a certain extent, to communicate

his misery. He frightens other people as much as they frighten him.



He acts like a damper upon the whole room, and the most jovial spirits

become in his presence depressed and nervous.



This is a good deal brought about by misunderstanding. Many people

mistake the shy man's timidity for overbearing arrogance and are awed



and insulted by it. His awkwardness is resented as insolent

carelessness, and when, terror-stricken at the first word addressed to



him, the blood rushes to his head and the power of speech completely

fails him, he is regarded as an awful example of the evil effects of



giving way to passion.

But, indeed, to be misunderstood is the shy man's fate on every



occasion; and whateverimpression he endeavors to create, he is sure

to convey its opposite. When he makes a joke, it is looked upon as a



pretended relation of fact and his want of veracity much condemned.

His sarcasm is accepted as his literal opinion and gains for him the



reputation of being an ass, while if, on the other hand, wishing to

ingratiate himself, he ventures upon a little bit of flattery, it is



taken for satire and he is hated ever afterward.

These and the rest of a shy man's troubles are always very amusing to



other people, and have afforded material for comic writing from time

immemorial. But if we look a little deeper we shall find there is a



pathetic, one might almost say a tragic, side to the picture. A shy




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