《Synge And The Ireland Of His Time》第10章

fire？play；　flaming　sods　of　turf　soaked　in　paraffine；　hurled　to　the　sky　and　caught　and　skied　again；　and　burning　snakes　of　hay？rope；　i　remember　a　little　girl　in　the　crowd；　in　an　ecstasy　of　pleasure　and　dread；　clutched　synge　by　the　hand　and　stood　close　in　his　shadow　until　the　fiery　games　were　done。
his　knowledge　of　gaelic　was　a　great　assistance　to　him　in　talking　to　the　people。　i　remember　him　holding　a　great　conversation　in　irish　and　english　with　an　innkeepers　wife　in　a　mayo　inn。　she　had　lived　in　america　in　lincolns　day。　she　told　us　what　living　cost　in　america　then；　and　of　her　life　there；　her　little　old　husband　sitting　by　and　putting　in　an　odd　word。　by　the　way；　the　husband　was　a　wonderful　gentle？mannered　man；　for　we　had　luncheon　in　his　house　of　biscuits　and　porter；　and　rested　there　an　hour；　waiting　for　a　heavy　shower　to　blow　away；　and　when　we　said　good？bye　and　our　feet　were　actually　on　the　road；　synge　said；　did　we　pay　for　what　we　had？　so　i　called　back　to　the　innkeeper；　did　we　pay　you？　and　he　said　quietly；　not　yet　sir。
synge　was　always　delighted　to　hear　and　remember　any　good　phrase。　i　remember　his　delight　at　the　words　of　a　local　politician　who　told　us　how　he　became　a　nationalist。　i　was；　he　said　plucking　a　book　from　the　mantlepiece　（i　remember　the　book？？it　was　paul　and　virginia）　and　clasping　it　to　his　breast？？i　was　but　a　little　child　with　my　little　book　going　to　school；　and　by　the　house　there　i　saw　the　agent。　he　took　the　unfortunate　tenant　and　thrun　him　in　the　road；　and　i　saw　the　mans　wife　e　out　crying　and　the　agents　wife　thrun　her　in　the　channel；　and　when　i　saw　that；　though　i　was　but　a　child；　i　swore　id　be　a　nationalist。　i　swore　by　heaven；　and　i　swore　by　hell　and　all　the　rivers　that　run　through　them。
synge　must　have　read　a　great　deal　at　one　time；　but　he　was　not　a　man　you　would　see　often　with　a　book　in　his　hand；　he　would　sooner　talk；　or　rather　listen　to　talk？？almost　anyones　talk。
synge　was　always　ready　to　go　anywhere　with　one；　and　when　there　to　enjoy　what　came。　he　went　with　me　to　see　an　ordinary　melodrama　at　the　queens　theatre；　dublin；　and　he　delighted　to　see　how　the　members　of　the　pany　could　by　the　vehemence　of　their　movements　and　the　resources　of　their　voices　hold　your　attention　on　a　play　where　everything　was　monplace。　he　enjoyed　seeing　the　contrite　villain　of　the　piece　e　up　from　the　bottom　of　the　gulch；　hurled　there　by　the　adventuress；　and　flash　his　sweating　blood？stained　face　up　against　the　footlights；　and；　though　he　told　us　he　had　but　a　few　short　moments　to　live；　roar　his　contrition　with　the　voice　of　a　bull。
synge　had　travelled　a　great　deal　in　italy　in　tracks　he　beat　out　for　himself；　and　in　germany　and　in　france；　but　he　only　occasionally　spoke　to　me　about　these　places。　i　think　the　irish　peasant　had　all　his　heart。　he　loved　them　in　the　east　as　well　as　he　loved　them　in　the　west；　but　the　western　men　on　the　aran　islands　and　in　the　blaskets　fitted　in　with　his　humour　more　than　any；　the　wild　things　they　did　and　said　were　a　joy　to　him。
synge　was　by　spirit　well　equipped　for　the　roads。　though　his　health　was　often　bad；　he　had　beating　under　his　ribs　a　brave　heart　that　carried　him　over　rough　tracks。　he　gathered　about　him　very　little　gear；　and　cared　nothing　for　fort　except　perhaps　that　of　a　good　turf　fire。　he　was；　though　young　in　years；　an　old　dog　for　a　hard　road　and　not　a　young　pup　for　a　tow？path。
he　loved　mad　scenes。　he　told　me　how　once　at　the　fair　of　tralee　he　saw　an　old　tinker？woman　taken　by　the　police；　and　she　was　struggling　with　them　in　the　centre　of　the　fair；　when　suddenly；　as　if　her　garments　were　held together　with　one　cord；　she　hurled　every　shred　of　clothing　from　her；　ran　down　the　street　and　screamed；　let　this　be　the　barrack　yard；　which　was　perfectly　understood　by　the　crowd　as　suggesting　that　the　police　strip　and　beat　their　prisoners　when　they　get　them　shut　in；　in　the　barrack　yard。　the　young　men　laughed；　but　the　old　men　hurried　after　the　naked　fleeting　figure　trying　to　throw　her　clothes　on　her　as　she　ran。
but　all　wild　sights　appealed　to　synge；　he　did　not　care　whether　they　were　typical　of　anything　else　or　had　any　symbolical　meaning　at　all。　if　he　had　lived　in　the　days　of　piracy　he　would　have　been　the　fiddler　in　a　pirate？
schooner；　him　they　called　the　music？？　the　music　looked　on　at　every　thing　with　dancing　eyes　but　drew　no　sword；　and　when　the　schooner　was　taken　and　the　pirates　hung　at　cape　corso　castle　or　the　island　of　saint　christophers；　the　music　was　spared　because　he　was　the　music。
jack　b。　yeats
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