Why the Milkman Shudders When He Perceives the Dawn

In the Hall of the Ancient Company of Milkmen round the great

fireplace at the end, when the winter logs are burning and all the

craft are assembled they tell to-day, as their grandfathers told

before them, why the milkman shudders when he perceives the dawn.

When dawn comes creeping over the edges of hills, peers through the

tree-trunks making wonderful shadows, touches the tops of tall columns

of smoke going up from awakening cottages in the valleys, and breaks

all golden over Kentish fields, when going on tip-toe thence it comes

to the walls of London and slips all shyly up those gloomy streets the

milkman perceives it and shudders.

A man may be a Milkman's Working Apprentice, may know what borax is

and how to mix it, yet not for that is the story told to him. There

are five men alone that tell that story, five men appointed by the

Master of the Company, by whom each place is filled as it falls

vacant, and if you do not hear it from one of them you hear the story

from no one and so can never know why the milkman shudders when he

perceives the dawn.

It is the way of one of these five men, greybeards all and milkmen

from infancy, to rub his hands by the fire when the great logs burn,

and to settle himself more easily in his chair, perhaps to sip some

drink far other than milk, then to look round to see that none are

there to whom it would not be fitting the tale should be told and,

looking from face to face and seeing none but the men of the Ancient

Company, and questioning mutely the rest of the five with his eyes, if

some of the five be there, and receiving their permission, to cough

and to tell the tale. And a great hush falls in the Hall of the

Ancient Company, and something about the shape of the roof and the

rafters makes the tale resonant all down the hall so that the youngest

hears it far away from the fire and knows, and dreams of the day when

perhaps he will tell himself why the milkman shudders when he

perceives the dawn.

Not as one tells some casual fact is it told, nor is it commented on

from man to man, but it is told by that great fire only and when the

occasion and the stillness of the room and the merit of the wine and

the profit of all seem to warrant it in the opinion of the five

deputed men: then does one of them tell it, as I have said, not

heralded by any master of ceremonies but as though it arose out of the

warmth of the fire before which his knotted hands would chance to be;

not a thing learned by rote, but told differently by each teller, and

differently according to his mood, yet never has one of them dared to

alter its salient points, there is none so base among the Company of

Milkmen. The Company of Powderers for the Face know of this story and

have envied it, the Worthy Company of Chin-Barbers, and the Company of

Whiskerers; but none have heard it in the Milkmen's Hall, through

whose wall no rumour of the secret goes, and though they have invented

tales of their own Antiquity mocks them.

This mellow story was ripe with honourable years when milkmen wore

beaver hats, its origin was still mysterious when smocks were the

vogue, men asked one another when Stuarts were on the throne (and only

the Ancient Company knew the answer) why the milkman shudders when he

perceives the dawn. It is all for envy of this tale's reputation that

the Company of Powderers for the Face have invented the tale that they

too tell of an evening, "Why the Dog Barks when he hears the step of

the Baker"; and because probably all men know that tale the Company of

the Powderers for the Face have dared to consider it famous. Yet it

lacks mystery and is not ancient, is not fortified with classical

allusion, has no secret lore, is common to all who care for an idle

tale, and shares with "The Wars of the Elves," the Calf-butcher's

tale, and "The Story of the Unicorn and the Rose," which is the tale

of the Company of Horse-drivers, their obvious inferiority.

But unlike all these tales so new to time, and many another that the

last two centuries tell, the tale that the milkmen tell ripples wisely

on, so full of quotation from the profoundest writers, so full of

recondite allusion, so deeply tinged with all the wisdom of man and

instructive with the experience of all times that they that hear it in

the Milkmen's Hall as they interpret allusion after allusion and trace

obscure quotation lose idle curiosity and forget to question why the

milkman shudders when he perceives the dawn.

You also, O my reader, give not yourself up to curiosity. Consider of

how many it is the bane. Would you to gratify this tear away the

mystery from the Milkmen's Hall and wrong the Ancient Company of

Milkmen? Would they if all the world knew it and it became a common

thing to tell that tale any more that they have told for the last four

hundred years? Rather a silence would settle upon their hall and a

universal regret for the ancient tale and the ancient winter evenings.

And though curiosity were a proper consideration yet even then this is

not the proper place nor this the proper occasion for the Tale. For

the proper place is only the Milkmen's Hall and the proper occasion

only when logs burn well and when wine has been deeply drunken, then

when the candles were burning well in long rows down to the dimness,

down to the darkness and mystery that lie at the end of the hall, then

were you one of the Company, and were I one of the five, would I rise

from my seat by the fireside and tell you with all the embellishments

that it has gleaned from the ages that story that is the heirloom of

the milkmen. And the long candles would burn lower and lower and

gutter and gutter away till they liquefied in their sockets, and

draughts would blow from the shadowy end of the hall stronger and

stronger till the shadows came after them, and still I would hold you

with that treasured story, not by any wit of mine but all for the sake

of its glamour and the times out of which it came; one by one the

candles would flare and die and, when all were gone, by the light of

ominous sparks when each milkman's face looks fearful to his fellow,

you would know, as now you cannot, why the milkman shudders when he

perceives the dawn.

Tales of Wonder · 第 10 / 30 题