bleak house(凄凉的房子)-第85节
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trouble？ Here am I； content to receive things childishly； as they
fall out： and I never take trouble！ I come down here for instance；
and I find a mighty potentate； exacting homage。 Very well！ I say
‘Mighty potentate； here is my homage！ It’s easier to give it； than to
withhold it。 Here it is。 If you have anything of an agreeable nature
to show me； I shall be happy to see it； if you have anything of an
agreeable nature to give me； I shall be happy to accept it。’ Mighty
potentate replies in effect； ‘This is a sensible fellow。 I find him
accord with my digestion and my bilious system。 He doesn’t
impose upon me the necessity of rolling myself up like a hedgehog
with my points outward。 I expand； I open； I turn my silver lining
outward like Milton’s cloud； and it’s more agreeable to both of us。’
That’s my view of such things： speaking as a child！”
“But suppose you went down somewhere else tomorrow；” said
Mr Boythorn； “where there was the opposite of that fellow—or of
this fellow。 How then？”
“How then？” said Mr Skimpole； with an appearance of the
utmost simplicity and candour。 “Just the same； then！ I should say；
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‘My esteemed Boythorn’—to make you the personification of our
imaginary friend—‘my esteemed Boythorn； you object to the
mighty potentate？ Very good。 So do I。 I take it that my business in
the social system is to be agreeable； I take it that everybody’s
business in the social system is to be agreeable。 It’s a system of
harmony； in short。 Therefore； if you object； I object。 Now；
excellent Boythorn； let us go to dinner！’”
“But； excellent Boythorn might say；” returned our host；
swelling and growing very red； “I’ll be—”
“I understand；” said Mr Skimpole。 “Very likely he would。”
“—if I will go to dinner！” cried Mr Boythorn； in a violent burst；
and stopping to strike his stick upon the ground。 “And he would
probably add； ‘Is there such a thing as principle； Mr Harold
Skimpole？’”
“To which Harold Skimpole would reply； you know；” he
returned in his gayest manner； and with his most ingenuous smile；
“‘Upon my life I have not the least idea！ I don’t know what it is you
call by that name； or where it is； or who possesses it。 If you possess
it； and find it comfortable； I am quite delighted； and congratulate
you heartily。 But I know nothing about it； I assure you； for I am a
mere child； and I lay no claim to it； and I don’t want it！’ So you see；
excellent Boythorn and I would go to dinner after all！”
This was one of many little dialogues between them； which I
always expected to end； and which I dare say would have ended—
under other circumstances； in some violent explosion on the part
of our host。 But he had so high a sense of his hospitable and
responsible position as our entertainer； and my Guardian laughed
so sincerely at and with Mr Skimpole； as a child who blew bubbles
and broke them all day long； that matters never went beyond this
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point。 Mr Skimpole； who always seemed quite unconscious of
having been on delicate ground； then betook himself to beginning
some sketch in the park which he never finished； or to playing
fragments of airs on the piano； or to singing scraps of songs； or to
lying down on his back under a tree； and looking at the sky—
which he couldn’t help thinking； he said； was what he was meant
for； it suited him so exactly。
“Enterprise and effort；” he would say to us （on his back）； “are
delightful to me。 I believe I am truly cosmopolitan。 I have the
deepest sympathy with them。 I lie in a shady place like this； and
think of adventurous spirits going to the North Pole； or
penetrating to the heart of the Torrid Zone； with admiration。
Mercenary creatures ask； ‘What is the use of a man’s going to the
North Pole？ What good does it do？’ I can’t say； but for anything I
can say； he may go for the purpose—though he don’t know it—of
employing my thoughts as I lie here。 Take an extreme case。 Take
the case of the Slaves on American plantations。 I dare say they are
worked hard； I dare say they don’t altogether like it； I dare say
theirs is an unpleasant experience on the whole； but； they people
the landscape for me； they give it a poetry for me； and perhaps
that is one of the pleasanter objects of their existence。 I am very
sensible of it； if it be； and I shouldn’t wonder if it were！”
I always wondered on these occasions whether he ever thought
of Mrs Skimpole and the children； and in what point of view they
presented themselves to his cosmopolitan mind。 So far as I could
understand； they rarely presented themselves at all。
The week had gone round to the Saturday following that
beating of my heart in the church； and every day had been so
bright and blue； that to ramble in the woods； and to see the light
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striking down among the transparent leaves； and sparkling in the
beautiful interlacings of the shadows of the trees； while the birds
poured out their songs； and the air was drowsy with the hum of
insects； had been most delightful。 We had one favourite spot； deep
in moss； and last year’s leaves； where there were some felled trees
from which the bark was all stripped off。 Seated among these； we
looked through a green vista supported by thousands of natural
columns； the whitened stems of trees； upon a distinct prospect
made so radiant by its contrast with the shade in which we sat；
and made so precious by the arched perspective through which we
saw it； that it was like a glimpse of the better land。 Upon the
Saturday we sat here； Mr Jarndyce； Ada； and I； until we heard
thunder muttering in the distance； and felt the large raindrops
rattle through the leaves。
The weather had been all the week extremely sultry； but； the
storm broke so suddenly—upon us； at least； in that sheltered
spot—that before we reached the outskirts of the wood； the
thunder and lightning were frequent； and the rain came plunging
through the leaves； as if every drop were a great leaden bead。 As it
was not a time for standing among trees； we ran out of the wood；
and up and down the moss…grown steps which crossed the
plantation…fence like two broad…staved ladders placed back to
back； and made for a keeper’s lodge which was close at hand。 We
had often noticed the dark beauty of this lodge standing in a deep
twilight of trees； and how the ivy clustered over it； and how there
was a steep hollow near； where we had once seen the keeper’s dog
dive down into the fern； as if it were water。
The lodge was so dark within； now the sky was overcast； that
we only clearly saw the man who came to the door when we took
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shelter there； and put two chairs for Ada and me。 The lattice…
windows were all thrown open and we sat； just within the
doorway； watching the storm。 It was grand to see how the wind
awoke； and bent the trees； and drove the rain before it like a cloud
of smoke； and to hear the solemn thunder； and to see the
lightning； and while thinking with awe of the tremendous powers
by which our little lives are encompassed； to consider how
