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Essays of Travel-Part27_ROBERT LOUIS STEVENSON(1850-1894)_English Literature(文学名著)-第2页

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blinding light of Alpine winters, a man takes a certain troubled

delight in his existence which can nowhere else be paralleled. He is



perhaps no happier, but he is stingingly alive. It does not,

perhaps, come out of him in work or exercise, yet he feels an



enthusiasm of the blood unknown in more temperate" target="_blank" title="a.有节制的；温和的">temperateclimates. It may

not be health, but it is fun.



There is nothing more difficult to communicate on paper than this

baseless ardour, this stimulation of the brain, this sterile



joyousness of spirits. You wake every morning, see the gold upon the

snow-peaks, become filled with courage, and bless God for your



prolonged existence. The valleys are but a stride to you; you cast

your shoe over the hilltops; your ears and your heart sing; in the



words of an unverified quotation from the Scotch psalms, you feel

yourself fit 'on the wings of all the winds' to 'come flying all



abroad.' Europe and your mind are too narrow for that flood of

energy. Yet it is notable that you are hard to root out of your bed;



that you start forth, singing, indeed, on your walk, yet are

unusually ready to turn home again; that the best of you is volatile;



and that although the restlessness remains till night, the strength

is early at an end. With all these heady jollities, you are half



conscious of an underlying languor in the body; you prove not to be

so well as you had fancied; you weary before you have well begun; and



though you mount at morning with the lark, that is not precisely a

song-bird's heart that you bring back with you when you return with



aching limbs and peevish temper to your inn.

It is hard to say wherein it lies, but this joy of Alpine winters is



its own reward. Baseless, in a sense, it is more than worth more

permanent improvements. The dream of health is perfect while it



lasts; and if, in trying to realise it, you speedily wear out the

dear hallucination, still every day, and many times a day, you are



conscious of a strength you scarce possess, and a delight in living

as merry as it proves to be transient.



The brightness - heaven and earth conspiring to be bright - the

levity and quiet of the air; the odd stirring silence - more stirring



than a tumult; the snow, the frost, the enchanted landscape: all

have their part in the effect and on the memory, 'TOUS VOUS TAPENT



SUR LA TETE'; and yet when you have enumerated all, you have gone no

nearer to explain or even to qualify the delicate exhilaration that



you feel - delicate, you may say, and yet excessive, greater than can

be said in prose, almost greater than an invalid can bear. There is



a certain wine of France known in England in some gaseous disguise,

but when drunk in the land of its nativity still as a pool, clean as



river water, and as heady as verse. It is more than probable that in

its noble natural condition this was the very wine of Anjou so



beloved by Athos in the 'Musketeers.' Now, if the reader has ever

washed down a liberal second breakfast with the wine in question, and



gone forth, on the back of these dilutions, into a sultry, sparkling

noontide, he will have felt an influence almost as genial, although



strangely grosser, than this fairy titillation of the nerves among

the snow and sunshine of the Alps. That also is a mode, we need not



say of intoxication, but of insobriety. Thus also a man walks in a

strong sunshine of the mind, and follows smiling, insubstantial



meditations. And whether he be really so clever or so strong as he

supposes, in either case he will enjoy his chimera while it lasts.



The influence of this giddy air displays itself in many secondary

ways. A certain sort of laboured pleasantry has already been



recognised, and may perhaps have been remarked in these papers, as a

sort peculiar to that climate. People utter their judgments with a



cannonade of syllables; a big word is as good as a meal to them; and

the turn of a phrase goes further than humour or wisdom. By the






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