Book: Dreamthorp

A >> Alexander Smith >> Dreamthorp




The vagabond, as I have explained and sketched him, is not a man to
tremble at, or avoid as if he wore contagion in his touch. He is
upright, generous, innocent, is conscientious in the performance of his
duties; and if a little eccentric and fond of the open air, he is full
of good nature and mirthful charity. He may not make money so rapidly
as you do, but I cannot help thinking that he enjoys life a great deal
more. The quick feeling of life, the exuberance or animal spirits
which break out in the traveller, the sportsman, the poet, the painter,
should be more generally diffused. We should be all the better and all
the happier for it. Life ought to be freer, heartier, more enjoyable
than it is at present. If the professional fetter must be worn, let it
be worn as lightly as possible. It should never be permitted to canker
the limbs. We are a free people,--we have an unshackled press,--we
have an open platform, and can say our say upon it, no king or despot
making us afraid. We send representatives to Parliament; the franchise
is always going to be extended. All this is very fine, and we do well
to glory in our privileges as Britons. But, although we enjoy greater
political freedom than any other people, we are the victims of a petty
social tyranny. We are our own despots,--we tremble at a neighbour's
whisper. A man may say what he likes on a public platform,--he may
publish whatever opinion he chooses,--but he dare not wear a peculiar
fashion of hat on the street. Eccentricity is an outlaw. Public
opinion blows like the east wind, blighting bud and blossom on the
human bough. As a consequence of all this, society is losing
picturesqueness and variety,--we are all growing up after one pattern.
In other matters than architecture past time may be represented by the
wonderful ridge of the Old Town of Edinburgh, where everything is
individual and characteristic: the present time by the streets and
squares of the New Town, where everything is gray, cold, and
respectable; where every house is the other's _alter ego_. It is true
that life is healthier in the formal square than in the piled-up
picturesqueness of the Canongate,--quite true that sanitary conditions
are better observed,--that pure water flows through every tenement like
blood through a human body,--that daylight has free access, and that
the apartments are larger and higher in the roof. But every gain is
purchased at the expense of some loss; and it is best to combine, if
possible, the excellences of the old and the new. By all means retain
the modern breadth of light, and range of space; by all means have
water plentiful, and bed-chambers ventilated,--but at the same time
have some little freak of fancy without,--some ornament about the door,
some device about the window,--something to break the cold, gray, stony
uniformity; or, to leave metaphor, which is always dangerous
ground,--for I really don't wish to advocate Ruskinism and the
Gothic,--it would be better to have, along with our modern
enlightenment, our higher tastes and purer habits, a greater
individuality of thought and manner; better, while retaining all that
we have gained, that harmless eccentricity should be respected,--that
every man should be allowed to grow in his own way, so long as he does
not infringe on the rights of his neighbour, or insolently thrust
himself between him and the sun. A little more air and light should be
let in upon life. I should think the world has stood long enough under
the drill of Adjutant Fashion. It is hard work; the posture is
wearisome, and Fashion is an awful martinet, and has a quick eye, and
comes down mercilessly on the unfortunate wight who cannot square his
toes to the approved pattern, or who appears upon parade with a darn in
his coat, or with a shoulder-belt insufficiently pipe-clayed. It is
killing work. Suppose we try "standing at ease" for a little!

Copyright (c) 2007. knowncrafts.net. All rights reserved.