第 60 节
作者:
温暖寒冬 更新:2024-04-09 19:50 字数:9273
judge; of Mr。 Irwine; as; happily; some of us still are of the people
we have known familiarly。 Doubtless it will be despised as a
weakness by that lofty order of minds who pant after the ideal; and
are oppressed by a general sense that their emotions are of too
exquisite a character to find fit objects among their everyday
fellowmen。 I have often been favoured with the confidence of
these select natures; and find them to concur in the experience
that great men are overestimated and small men are
insupportable; that if you would love a woman without ever
looking back on your love as a folly; she must die while you are
courting her; and if you would maintain the slightest belief in
human heroism; you must never make a pilgrimage to see the
hero。 I confess I have often meanly shrunk from confessing to
these accomplished and acute gentlemen what my own experience
has been。 I am afraid I have often smiled with hypocritical assent;
and gratified them with an epigram on the fleeting nature of our
illusions; which any one moderately acquainted with French
literature can command at a moment’s notice。 Human converse; I
think some wise man has remarked; is not rigidly sincere。 But I
herewith discharge my conscience; and declare that I have had
quite enthusiastic movements of admiration towards old
gentlemen who spoke the worst English; who were occasionally
fretful in their temper; and who had never moved in a higher
sphere of influence than that of parish overseer; and that the way
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in which I have come to the conclusion that human nature is
lovable—the way I have learnt something of its deep pathos; its
sublime mysteries—has been by living a great deal among people
more or less commonplace and vulgar; of whom you would
perhaps hear nothing very surprising if you were to inquire about
them in the neighbourhoods where they dwelt。 Ten to one most of
the small shopkeepers in their vicinity saw nothing at all in them。
For I have observed this remarkable coincidence; that the select
natures who pant after the ideal; and find nothing in pantaloons or
petticoats great enough to command their reverence and love; are
curiously in unison with the narrowest and pettiest。 For example; I
have often heard Mr。 Gedge; the landlord of the Royal Oak; who
used to turn a bloodshot eye on his neighbours in the village of
Shepperton; sum up his opinion of the people in his own parish—
and they were all the people he knew—in these emphatic words:
“Aye; sir; I’ve said it often; and I’ll say it again; they’re a poor lot i’
this parish—a poor lot; sir; big and little。” I think he had a dim
idea that if he could migrate to a distant parish; he might find
neighbours worthy of him; and indeed he did subsequently
transfer himself to the Saracen’s Head; which was doing a thriving
business in the back street of a neighbouring market…town。 But;
oddly enough; he has found the people up that back street of
precisely the same stamp as the inhabitants of Shepperton—“a
poor lot; sir; big and little; and them as comes for a go o’ gin are no
better than them as comes for a pint o’ twopenny—a poor lot。”
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Chapter XVIII
Church
etty; Hetty; don’t you know church begins at two;
and it’s gone half after one a’ready? Have you got
“H
nothing better to think on this good Sunday as poor
old Thias Bede’s to be put into the ground; and him drownded i’
th’ dead o’ the night; as it’s enough to make one’s back run cold;
but you must be ’dizening yourself as if there was a wedding i’stid
of a funeral?”
“Well; Aunt;” said Hetty; “I can’t be ready so soon as everybody
else; when I’ve got Totty’s things to put on。 And I’d ever such work
to make her stand still。”
Hetty was coming downstairs; and Mrs。 Poyser; in her plain
bonnet and shawl; was standing below。 If ever a girl looked as if
she had been made of roses; that girl was Hetty in her Sunday hat
and frock。 For her hat was trimmed with pink; and her frock had
pink spots; sprinkled on a white ground。 There was nothing but
pink and white about her; except in her dark hair and eyes and
her little buckled shoes。 Mrs。 Poyser was provoked at herself; for
she could hardly keep from smiling; as any mortal is inclined to do
at the sight of pretty round things。 So she turned without
speaking; and joined the group outside the house door; followed
by Hetty; whose heart was fluttering so at the thought of some one
she expected to see at church that she hardly felt the ground she
trod on。
And now the little procession set off。 Mr。 Poyser was in his
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Sunday suit of drab; with a red…and…green waistcoat and a green
watch…ribbon having a large cornelian seal attached; pendant like
a plumb…line from that promontory where his watch…pocket was
situated; a silk handkerchief of a yellow tone round his neck; and
excellent grey ribbed stockings; knitted by Mrs。 Poyser’s own
hand; setting off the proportions of his leg。 Mr。 Poyser had no
reason to be ashamed of his leg; and suspected that the growing
abuse of top…boots and other fashions tending to disguise the
nether limbs had their origin in a pitiable degeneracy of the
human calf。 Still less had he reason to be ashamed of his round
jolly face; which was good humour itself as he said; “Come;
Hetty—come; little uns!” and giving his arm to his wife; led the
way through the causeway gate into the yard。
The “little uns” addressed were Marty and Tommy; boys of
nine and seven; in little fustian tailed coats and knee…breeches;
relieved by rosy cheeks and black eyes; looking as much like their
father as a very small elephant is like a very large one。 Hetty
walked between them; and behind came patient Molly; whose task
it was to carry Totty through the yard and over all the wet places
on the road; for Totty; having speedily recovered from her
threatened fever; had insisted on going to church to…day; and
especially on wearing her red…and…black necklace outside her
tippet。 And there were many wet places for her to be carried over
this afternoon; for there had been heavy showers in the morning;
though now the clouds had rolled off and lay in towering silvery
masses on the horizon。
You might have known it was Sunday if you had only waked up
in the farmyard。 The cocks and hens seemed to know it; and made
only crooning subdued noises; the very bull…dog looked less
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savage; as if he would have been satisfied with a smaller bite than
usual。 The sunshine seemed to call all things to rest and not to
labour。 It was asleep itself on the moss…grown cow…shed; on the
group of white ducks nestling together with their