Where the Blue Begins(蓝调从何而起)
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2024-12-26
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WHERE THE BLUE BEGINS
1
WHERE THE BLUE
BEGINS
Christopher Morley
WHERE THE BLUE BEGINS
2
TO FELIX and TOTO
"I am not free-- And it may be Life is too tight around my shins; For,
unlike you, I can't break through A truant where the blue begins. "Out of
the very element Of bondage, that here holds me pent, I'll make my
furious sonnet: I'll turn my noose To tightrope use And madly dance upon
it. "So I will take My leash, and make A wilder and more subtle fleeing*
And I shall be More escapading and more free Than you have ever
dreamed of being!"
WHERE THE BLUE BEGINS
3
CHAPTER ONE
Gissing lived alone (except for his Japanese butler) in a little house in
the country, in that woodland suburb region called the Canine Estates. He
lived comfortably and thoughtfully, as bachelors often do. He came of a
respectable family, who had always conducted themselves calmly and
without too much argument. They had bequeathed him just enough income
to live on cheerfully, without display but without having to do addition
and subtraction at the end of the month and then tear up the paper lest Fuji
(the butler) should see it.
It was strange, since Gissing was so pleasantly situated in life, that he
got into these curious adventures that I have to relate. I do not attempt to
explain it.
He had no responsibilities, not even a motor car, for his tastes were
surprisingly simple. If he happened to be spending an evening at the
country club, and a rainstorm came down, he did not worry about getting
home. He would sit by the fire and chuckle to see the married members
creep away one by one. He would get out his pipe and sleep that night at
the club, after telephoning Fuji not to sit up for him. When he felt like it he
used to read in bed, and even smoke in bed. When he went to town to the
theatre, he would spend the night at a hotel to avoid the fatigue of the long
ride on the 11:44 train. He chose a different hotel each time, so that it was
always an Adventure. He had a great deal of fun.
But having fun is not quite the same as being happy. Even an income
of 1000 bones a year does not answer all questions. That charming little
house among the groves and thickets seemed to him surrounded by strange
whispers and quiet voices. He was uneasy. He was restless, and did not
know why. It was his theory that discipline must be maintained in the
household, so he did not tell Fuji his feelings. Even when he was alone, he
always kept up a certain formality in the domestic routine. Fuji would lay
out his dinner jacket on the bed: he dressed, came down to the dining
room with quiet dignity, and the evening meal was served by candle-light.
As long as Fuji was at work, Gissing sat carefully in the armchair by the
hearth, smoking a cigar and pretending to read the paper. But as soon as
WHERE THE BLUE BEGINS
4
the butler had gone upstairs, Gissing always kicked oft his dinner suit and
stiff shirt, and lay down on the hearth-rug. But he did not sleep. He would
watch the wings of flame gilding the dark throat of the chimney, and his
mind seemed drawn upward on that rush of light, up into the pure chill air
where the moon was riding among sluggish thick floes of cloud. In the
darkness he heard chiming voices, wheedling and tantalizing. One night he
was walking on his little verandah. Between rafts of silver-edged clouds
were channels of ocean-blue sky, inconceivably deep and transparent. The
air was serene, with a faint acid taste. Suddenly there shrilled a soft, sweet,
melancholy whistle, earnestly repeated. It seemed to come from the little
pond in the near-by copses. It struck him strangely. It might be anything,
he thought. He ran furiously through the field, and to the brim of the pond.
He could find nothing, all was silent. Then the whistlings broke out again,
all round him, maddeningly. This kept on, night after night. The parson,
whom he consulted, said it was only frogs; but Gissing told the constable
he thought God had something to do with it.
Then willow trees and poplars showed a pallid bronze sheen,
forsythias were as yellow as scrambled eggs, maples grew knobby with
red buds. Among the fresh bright grass came, here and there, exhilarating
smells of last year's buried bones. The little upward slit at the back of
Gissing's nostrils felt prickly. He thought that if he could bury it deep
enough in cold beef broth it would be comforting. Several times he went
out to the pantry intending to try the experiment, but every time Fuji
happened to be around. Fuji was a Japanese pug, and rather correct, so
Gissing was ashamed to do what he wanted to. He pretended he had come
out to see that the icebox pan had been emptied properly.
"I must get the plumber to put in a pukka drain-pipe to take the place
of the pan," Gissing said to Fuji; but he knew that he had no intention of
doing so. The ice-box pan was his private test of a good servant. A cook
who forgot to empty it was too careless, he thought, to be a real success.
But certainly there was some curious elixir in the air. He went for
walks, and as soon as he was out of sight of the houses he threw down his
hat and stick and ran wildly, with great exultation, over the hills and fields.
"I really ought to turn all this energy into some sort of constructive work,"
WHERE THE BLUE BEGINS
5
he said to himself. No one else, he mused, seemed to enjoy life as keenly
and eagerly as he did. He wondered, too, about the other sex. Did they feel
these violent impulses to run, to shout, to leap and caper in the sunlight?
But he was a little startled, on one of his expeditions, to see in the distance
the curate rushing hotly through the underbrush, his clerical vestments
dishevelled, his tongue hanging out with excitement.
"I must go to church more often," said Gissing.
In the golden light and pringling air he felt excitable and high-strung.
His tail curled upward until it ached. Finally he asked Mike Terrier, who
lived next door, what was wrong.
"It's spring," Mike said.
"Oh, yes, of course, jolly old spring!" said Gissing, as though this was
something he had known all along, and had just forgotten for the moment.
But he didn't know. This was his first spring, for he was only ten months
old.
Outwardly he was the brisk, genial figure that the suburb knew and
esteemed. He was something of a mystery among his neighbours of the
Canine Estates, because he did not go daily to business in the city, as most
of them did; nor did he lead a life of brilliant amusement like the Airedales,
the wealthy people whose great house was near by. Mr. Poodle, the
conscientious curate, had called several times but was not able to learn
anything definite. There was a little card-index of parishioners, which it
was Mr. Poodle's duty to fill in with details of each person's business,
charitable inclinations, and what he could do to amuse a Church Sociable.
The card allotted to Gissing was marked, in Mr. Poodle's neat script,
Friendly, but vague as to definite participation in Xian activities. Has not
communicated.
But in himself, Gissing was increasingly disturbed. Even his seizures
of joy, which came as he strolled in the smooth spring air and sniffed the
wild, vigorous aroma of the woodland earth, were troublesome because he
did not know why he was so glad. Every morning it seemed to him that
life was about to exhibit some delicious crisis in which the meaning and
excellence of all things would plainly appear. He sang in the bathtub.
Daily it became more difficult to maintain that decorum which Fuji
WHERE THE BLUE BEGINS
6
expected. He felt that his life was being wasted. He wondered what ought
to be done about it.
WHERE THE BLUE BEGINS
7
CHAPTER TWO
It was after dinner, an April evening, and Gissing slipped away from
the house for a stroll. He was afraid to stay in, because he knew that if he
did, Fuji would ask him again to fix the dishcloth rack in the kitchen. Fuji
was very short in stature, and could not reach up to the place where the
rack was screwed over the sink. Like all people whose minds are very
active, Gissing hated to attend to little details like this. It was a weakness
in his character. Fuji had asked him six times to fix the rack, but Gissing
always pretended to forget about it. To appease his methodical butler he
had written on a piece of paper FIX DISHCLOTH RACK and pinned it on
his dressing-table pincushion; but he paid no attention to the
memorandum.
He went out into a green April dusk. Down by the pond piped those
repeated treble whistlings: they still distressed him with a mysterious
unriddled summons, but Mike Terrier had told him that the secret of
respectability is to ignore whatever you don't understand. Careful
observation of this maxim had somewhat dulled the cry of that shrill queer
music. It now caused only a faint pain in his mind. Still, he walked that
way because the little meadow by the pond was agreeably soft underfoot.
Also, when he walked close beside the water the voices were silent. That
is worth noting, he said to himself. If you go directly at the heart of a
mystery, it ceases to be a mystery, and becomes only a question of
drainage. (Mr. Poodle had told him that if he had the pond and swamp
drained, the frog-song would not annoy him.) But to-night, when the keen
chirruping ceased, there was still another sound that did not cease--a faint,
appealing cry. It caused a prickling on his shoulder blades, it made him
both angry and tender. He pushed through the bushes. In a little hollow
were three small puppies, whining faintly. They were cold and draggled
with mud. Someone had left them there, evidently, to perish. They were
huddled close together; their eyes, a cloudy unspeculative blue, were only
just opened. "This is gruesome," said Gissing, pretending to be shocked.
"Dear me, innocent pledges of sin, I dare say. Well, there is only one thing
to do."
WHERE THE BLUE BEGINS
8
He picked them up carefully and carried them home.
"Quick, Fuji!" he said. "Warm some milk, some of the Grade A, and
put a little brandy in it. I'll get the spare-room bed ready."
He rushed upstairs, wrapped the puppies in a blanket, and turned on
the electric heater to take the chill from the spare-room. The little pads of
their paws were ice-cold, and he filled the hot water bottle and held it
carefully to their twelve feet. Their pink stomachs throbbed, and at first he
feared they were dying. "They must not die!" he said fiercely. "If they did,
it would be a matter for the police, and no end of trouble."
Fuji came up with the milk, and looked very grave when he saw the
muddy footprints on the clean sheet.
"Now, Fuji," said Gissing, "do you suppose they can lap, or will we
have to pour it down?"
In spite of his superior manner, Fuji was a good fellow in an
emergency. It was he who suggested the fountain-pen filler. They washed
the ink out of it, and used it to drip the hot brandy-and-milk down the
puppies' throats. Their noses, which had been icy, suddenly became very
hot and dry. Gissing feared a fever and thought their temperatures should
be taken.
"The only thermometer we have," he said, "is the one on the porch,
with the mercury split in two. I don't suppose that would do. Have you a
clinical thermometer, Fuji?"
Fuji felt that his employer was making too much fuss over the matter.
"No, sir," he said firmly. "They are quite all right. A good sleep will
revive them. They will be as fit as possible in the morning."
Fuji went out into the garden to brush the mud from his neat white
jacket. His face was inscrutable. Gissing sat by the spare-room bed until
he was sure the puppies were sleeping correctly. He closed the door so that
Fuji would not hear him humming a lullaby. Three Blind Mice was the
only nursery song he could remember, and he sang it over and over again.
When he tiptoed downstairs, Fuji had gone to bed. Gissing went into his
study, lit a pipe, and walked up and down, thinking. By and bye he wrote
two letters. One eras to a bookseller in the city, asking him to send (at
once) one copy of Dr. Holt's book on the Care and Feeding of Children,
WHERE THE BLUE BEGINS
9
and a well-illustrated edition of Mother Goose. The other was to Mr.
Poodle, asking him to fix a date for the christening of Mr. Gissing's three
small nephews, who had come to live with him.
"It is lucky they are all boys," said Gissing. "I would know nothing
about bringing up girls."
"I suppose," he added after a while, "that I shall have to raise Fuji's
wages."
Then he went into the kitchen and fixed the dishcloth rack.
Before going to bed that night he took his usual walk around the house.
The sky was freckled with stars. It was generally his habit to make a tour
of his property toward midnight, to be sure everything was in good order.
He always looked into the ice-box, and admired the cleanliness of Fuji's
arrangements. The milk bottles were properly capped with their round
cardboard tops; the cheese was never put on the same rack with the butter;
the doors of the ice-box were carefully latched. Such observations, and the
slow twinkle of the fire in the range, deep down under the curfew layer of
coals, pleased him. In the cellar he peeped into the garbage can, for it was
always a satisfaction to assure himself that Fuji did not waste anything that
could be used. One of the laundry tub taps was dripping, with a soft
measured tinkle: he said to himself that he really must have it attended to.
All these domestic matters seemed more significant than ever when he
thought of youthful innocence sleeping upstairs in the spare-room bed. His
had been a selfish life hitherto, he feared. These puppies were just what he
needed to take him out of himself.
Busy with these thoughts, he did not notice the ironical whistling
coming from the pond. He tasted the night air with cheerful satisfaction.
"At any rate, to-morrow will be a fine day," he said.
The next day it rained. But Gissing was too busy to think about the
weather. Every hour or so during the night he had gone into the spare
room to listen attentively to the breathing of the puppies, to pull the
blanket over them, and feel their noses. It seemed to him that they were
perspiring a little, and he was worried lest they catch cold. His morning
sleep (it had always been his comfortable habit to lie abed a trifle late) was
interrupted about seven o'clock by a lively clamour across the hall. The
WHERE THE BLUE BEGINS
10
puppies were awake, perfectly restored, and while they were too young to
make their wants intelligible, they plainly expected some attention. He
gave them a pair of old slippers to play with, and proceeded to his own
toilet.
As he was bathing them, after breakfast, he tried to enlist Fuji's
enthusiasm. "Did you ever see such fat rascals?" he said. "I wonder if we
ought to trim their tails? How pink their stomachs are, and how pink and
delightful between their toes! You hold these two while I dry the other. No,
not that way! Hold them so you support their spines. A puppy's back is
very delicate: you can't be too careful. We'll have to do things in a rough-
and-ready way until Dr. Holt's book comes. After that we can be
scientific."
Fuji did not seem very keen. Presently, in spite of the rain, he was
dispatched to the village department store to choose three small cribs and a
multitude of safety pins. "Plenty of safety pins is the idea," said Gissing.
"With enough safety pins handy, children are easy to manage."
As soon as the puppies were bestowed on the porch, in the sunshine,
for their morning nap, he telephoned to the local paperhanger.
"I want you" (he said) "to come up as soon as you can with some nice
samples of nursery wallpaper. A lively Mother Goose pattern would do
very well." He had already decided to change the spare room into a
nursery. He telephoned the carpenter to make a gate for the top of the
stairs. He was so busy that he did not even have time to think of his pipe,
or the morning paper. At last, just before lunch, he found a breathing space.
He sat down in the study to rest his legs, and looked for the Times. It was
not in its usual place on his reading table. At that moment the puppies
woke up, and he ran out to attend them. He would have been distressed if
he had known that Fuji had the paper in the kitchen, and was studying the
HELP WANTED columns.
A great deal of interest was aroused in the neighbourhood by the
arrival of Gissing's nephews, as he called them. Several of the ladies, who
had ignored him hitherto, called, in his absence, and left extra cards. This
implied (he supposed, though he was not closely versed in such niceties of
society) that there was a Mrs. Gissing, and he was annoyed, for he felt
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WHERETHEBLUEBEGINS1WHERETHEBLUEBEGINSChristopherMorleyWHERETHEBLUEBEGINS2TOFELIXandTOTO"Iamnotfree--AnditmaybeLifeistootightaroundmyshins;For,unlikeyou,Ican'tbreakthroughAtruantwherethebluebegins."OutoftheveryelementOfbondage,thathereholdsmepent,I'llmakemyfurioussonnet:I'llturnmynooseTotightropeuseA...
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