第 113 节
作者:套牢      更新:2021-02-20 15:35      字数:9322
  dressed like a broken…down clergyman; in rusty black; with a
  neck…cloth of whitey…brown。
  'I admit it;' he said in good English; and a rather educated tone。
  'Your arguments are indisputable。  I confess besides that so far
  short does the yield come of the amount on paper; that it would pay
  me to give them away。  But it's the funerals; sir; that make it
  worth my while。  I'm an undertaker; as you may judge from my
  costume。  I count back…rent in the burying。  People may cheat their
  landlord; but they can't cheat the undertaker。  They must be buried。
  That's the one indispensableain't it; sir?'
  Falconer had let him run on that he might have the measure of him。
  Now he was prepared with his reply。
  'You've told me your profession;' he said: 'I'll tell you mine。  I
  am a lawyer。  If you don't let me have those houses for five
  hundred; which is the full market value; I'll prosecute you。  It'll
  take a good penny from the profits of your coffins to put those
  houses in a state to satisfy the inspector。'
  The wretched creature was struck dumb。  Falconer resumed。
  'You're the sort of man that ought to be kept to your pound of
  filthy flesh。  I know what I say; and I'll do it。  The law costs me
  nothing。  You won't find it so。'
  The undertaker sold the houses; and no longer in that quarter killed
  the people he wanted to bury。
  I give this as a specimen of the kind of thing Falconer did。  But he
  took none of the business part in his own hands; on the same
  principle on which Paul the Apostle said it was unmeet for him to
  leave the preaching of the word in order to serve tablesnot that
  the thing was beneath him; but that it was not his work so long as
  he could be doing more important service still。
  De Fleuri was one of his chief supports。  The whole nature of the
  man mellowed under the sun of Falconer; and over the work that
  Falconer gave him to do。  His daughter recovered; and devoted
  herself to the same labour that had rescued her。  Miss St。 John was
  her superior。  By degrees; without any laws or regulations; a little
  company was gathered; not of ladies and gentlemen; but of men and
  women; who aided each; other; and without once meeting as a whole;
  laboured not the less as one body in the work of the Lord; bound in
  one by bonds that had nothing to do with cobweb committee meetings
  or public dinners; chairmen or wine…flushed subscriptions。  They
  worked like the leaven of which the Lord spoke。
  But De Fleuri; like almost every one in the community I believe; had
  his own private schemes subserving the general good。  He knew the
  best men of his own class and his own trade; and with them his
  superior intellectual gifts gave him influence。  To them he told the
  story of Falconer's behaviour to him; of Falconer's own need; and of
  his hungry…hearted search。  An enthusiasm of help seized upon the
  men。  To aid your superior is such a rousing gladness!Was anything
  of this in St。 Paul's mind when he spoke of our being fellow…workers
  with God?  I only put the question。Each one of these had his own
  trustworthy acquaintances; or neighbours; ratherfor like finds out
  like all the world through; as well as overand to them he told the
  story of Falconer and his father; so that in all that region of
  London it became known that the man who loved the poor was himself
  needy; and looked to the poor for their help。  Without them he could
  not be made perfect。
  Some of my readers may be inclined to say that it was dishonourable
  in Falconer to have occasioned the publishing of his father's
  disgrace。  Such may recall to their minds that concealment is no law
  of the universe; that; on the contrary; the Lord of the Universe
  said once: 'There is nothing covered that shall not be revealed。'
  Was the disgrace of Andrew Falconer greater because a thousand men
  knew it; instead of forty; who could not help knowing it?  Hope lies
  in light and knowledge。  Andrew would be none the worse that honest
  men knew of his vice: they would be the first to honour him if he
  should overcome it。  If he would notthe disgrace was just; and
  would fall upon his son only in sorrow; not in dishonour。  The grace
  of Godthe making of humanity by his beautiful handno; heartis
  such; that disgrace clings to no man after repentance; any more than
  the feet defiled with the mud of the world come yet defiled from the
  bath。  Even the things that proceed out of the man; and do terribly
  defile him; can be cast off like the pollution of the leper by a
  grace that goes deeper than they; and the man who says; 'I have
  sinned: I will sin no more;' is even by the voice of his brothers
  crowned as a conqueror; and by their hearts loved as one who has
  suffered and overcome。  Blessing on the God…born human heart!  Let
  the hounds of God; not of Satan; loose upon sin;God only can rule
  the dogs of the devil;let them hunt it to the earth; let them drag
  forth the demoniac to the feet of the Man who loved the people while
  he let the devil take their swine; and do not talk about disgrace
  from a thing being known when the disgrace is that the thing should
  exist。
  One night I was returning home from some poor attempts of my own。  I
  had now been a pupil of Falconer for a considerable time; but having
  my own livelihood to make; I could not do so much as I would。
  It was late; nearly twelve o'clock; as I passed through the region
  of Seven Dials。  Here and there stood three or four brutal…looking
  men; and now and then a squalid woman with a starveling baby in her
  arms; in the light of the gin…shops。  The babies were the saddest to
  seenursery…plants already in training for the places these men and
  women now held; then to fill a pauper's grave; or perhaps a
  perpetual cellsay rather; for the awful spaces of silence; where
  the railway director can no longer be guilty of a worse sin than
  house…breaking; and his miserable brother will have no need of the
  shelter of which he deprived him。  Now and then a flaunting woman
  wavered pasta night…shade; as our old dramatists would have called
  her。  I could hardly keep down an evil disgust that would have
  conquered my pity; when a scanty white dress would stop beneath a
  lamp; and the gay dirty bonnet; turning round; reveal a painted
  face; from which shone little more than an animal intelligence; not
  brightened by the gin she had been drinking。  Vague noises of strife
  and of drunken wrath flitted around me as I passed an alley; or an
  opening door let out its evil secret。  Once I thought I heard the
  dull thud of a blow on the head。  The noisome vapours were fit for
  any of Swedenborg's hells。  There were few sounds; but the very
  quiet seemed infernal。  The night was hot and sultry。  A skinned
  cat; possibly still alive; fell on the street before me。  Under one
  of the gas…lamps lay something long: it was a tress of dark hair;
  torn perhaps from some woman's head: she had beautiful hair at
  least。  Once I heard the cry of murder; but where; in that chaos of
  humanity; right or left; before or behind me; I could not even
  guess。  Home to such regions; from gorgeous stage…scenery and
  dresses; from splendid; mirror…beladen casinos; from singing…halls;
  and places of private and prolonged revelry; trail the daughters of
  men at all hours from midnight till morning。  Next day they drink
  hell…fire that they may forget。  Sleep brings an hour or two of
  oblivion; hardly of peace; but they must wake; worn and miserable;
  and the waking brings no hope: their only known help lies in the
  gin…shop。  What can be done with them?  But the secrets God keeps
  must be as good as those he tells。
  But no sights of the night ever affected me so much as walking
  through this same St。 Giles's on a summer Sunday morning; when
  church…goers were in church。  Oh! the faces that creep out into the
  sunshine then; and haunt their doors!  Some of them but skins drawn
  over skulls; living Death's…heads; grotesque in their hideousness。
  I was not very far from Falconer's abode。  My mind was oppressed
  with sad thoughts and a sense of helplessness。  I began to wonder
  what Falconer might at that moment be about。  I had not seen him for
  a long timea whole fortnight。  He might be at home: I would go and
  see; and if there were light in his windows I would ring his bell。
  I went。  There was light in his windows。  He opened the door
  himself; and welcomed me。  I went up with him; and we began to talk。
  I told him of my sad thoughts; and my feelings of helplessness。
  'He that believeth shall not make haste;' he said。 'There is plenty
  of time。  You must not imagine that the result depends on you; or
  that a single human soul can be lost because you may fail。  The
  question; as far as you are concerned; is; whether you are to be
  honoured in having a hand in the work that God is doing; and will
  do; whether you help him or not。  Some will be honoured: shall it be
  me?  And this honour gained excludes no one: there is work; as there