adam bede(亚当[1].比德)-第47章
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The opportunity was gone。 While Arthur was hesitating； the
rope to which he might have clung had drifted away—he must
trust now to his own swimming。
In ten minutes from that time； Mr。 Irwine was called for on
business； and Arthur； bidding him good…bye； mounted his horse
again with a sense of dissatisfaction； which he tried to quell by
determining to set off for Eagledale without an hour’s delay。
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Book Second
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Chapter XVII
In Which the Story Pauses a Little
his Rector of Broxton is little better than a pagan！” I
hear one of my readers exclaim。 “How much more
“T
edifying it would have been if you had made him give
Arthur some truly spiritual advice！ You might have put into his
mouth the most beautiful things—quite as good as reading a
sermon。”
Certainly I could； if I held it the highest vocation of the novelist
to represent things as they never have been and never will be。
Then； of course； I might refashion life and character entirely after
my own liking； I might select the most unexceptionable type of
clergyman and put my own admirable opinions into his mouth on
all occasions。 But it happens； on the contrary； that my strongest
effort is to avoid any such arbitrary picture； and to give a faithful
account of men and things as they have mirrored themselves in
my mind。 The mirror is doubtless defective； the outlines will
sometimes be disturbed； the reflection faint or confused； but I feel
as much bound to tell you as precisely as I can what that reflection
is； as if I were in the witness…box； narrating my experience on
oath。
Sixty years ago—it is a long time； so no wonder things have
changed—all clergymen were not zealous； indeed； there is reason
to believe that the number of zealous clergymen was small； and it
is probable that if one among the small minority had owned the
livings of Broxton and Hayslope in the year 1799； you would have
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liked him no better than you like Mr。 Irwine。 Ten to one； you
would have thought him a tasteless； indiscreet； methodistical man。
It is so very rarely that facts hit that nice medium required by our
own enlightened opinions and refined taste！ Perhaps you will say；
“Do improve the facts a little； then； make them more accordant
with those correct views which it is our privilege to possess。 The
world is not just what we like； do touch it up with a tasteful pencil；
and make believe it is not quite such a mixed entangled affair。 Let
all people who hold unexceptionable opinions act
unexceptionably。 Let your most faulty characters always be on the
wrong side； and your virtuous ones on the right。 Then we shall see
at a glance whom we are to condemn and whom we are to
approve。 Then we shall be able to admire； without the slightest
disturbance of our prepossessions： we shall hate and despise with
that true ruminant relish which belongs to undoubting
confidence。”
But； my good friend； what will you do then with your fellow…
parishioner who opposes your husband in the vestry？ With your
newly appointed vicar； whose style of preaching you find painfully
below that of his regretted predecessor？ With the honest servant
who worries your soul with her one failing？ With your neighbour；
Mrs。 Green； who was really kind to you in your last illness； but has
said several ill…natured things about you since your
convalescence？ Nay； with your excellent husband himself； who
has other irritating habits besides that of not wiping his shoes？
These fellow…mortals； every one； must be accepted as they are： you
can neither straighten their noses； nor brighten their wit； nor
rectify their dispositions； and it is these people—amongst whom
your life is passed—that it is needful you should tolerate； pity； and
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love： it is these more or less ugly； stupid； inconsistent people
whose movements of goodness you should be able to admire—for
whom you should cherish all possible hopes； all possible patience。
And I would not； even if I had the choice； be the clever novelist
who could create a world so much better than this； in which we get
up in the morning to do our daily work； that you would be likely to
turn a harder； colder eye on the dusty streets and the common
green fields—on the real breathing men and women； who can be
chilled by your indifference or injured by your prejudice； who can
be cheered and helped onward by your fellow…feeling； your
forbearance； your outspoken； brave justice。
So I am content to tell my simple story； without trying to make
things seem better than they were； dreading nothing； indeed； but
falsity； which； in spite of one’s best efforts； there is reason to
dread。 Falsehood is so easy； truth so difficult。 The pencil is
conscious of a delightful facility in drawing a griffin—the longer
the claws； and the larger the wings； the better； but that marvellous
facility which we mistook for genius is apt to forsake us when we
want to draw a real unexaggerated lion。 Examine your words well；
and you will find that even when you have no motive to be false； it
is a very hard thing to say the exact truth； even about your own
immediate feelings—much harder than to say something fine
about them which is not the exact truth。
It is for this rare； precious quality of truthfulness that I delight
in many Dutch paintings； which lofty…minded people despise。 I
find a source of delicious sympathy in these faithful pictures of a
monotonous homely existence； which has been the fate of so many
more among my fellow…mortals than a life of pomp or of absolute
indigence； of tragic suffering or of world…stirring actions。 I turn；
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without shrinking； from cloud…borne angels； from prophets； sibyls；
and heroic warriors； to an old woman bending over her flower…pot；
or eating her solitary dinner； while the noonday light； softened
perhaps by a screen of leaves； falls on her mob…cap； and just
touches the rim of her spinning…wheel； and her stone jug； and all
those cheap common things which are the precious necessaries of
life to her—or I turn to that village wedding； kept between four
brown walls； where an awkward bridegroom opens the dance with
a high…shouldered； broad…faced bride； while elderly and middle…
aged friends look on； with very irregular noses and lips； and
probably with quart…pots in their hands； but with an expression of
unmistakable contentment and goodwill。 “Foh！” says my idealistic
friend； “what vulgar details！ What good is there in taking all these
pains to give an exact likeness of old women and clowns？ What a
low phase of life！ What clumsy； ugly people！”
But bless us； things may be lovable that are not altogether
handsome； I hope？ I am not at all sure that the majority of the
human race have not been ugly； and even among those “lords of
their kind；” the British； squat figures； ill…shapen nostrils； and
dingy complexions are not startling exceptions。 Yet there is a great
deal of family love amongst us。 I have a friend or two whose class
of features is such that the Apollo curl on the summit of their
brows would be decidedly trying； yet to my certain knowledge
tender hearts have beaten for them； and their miniatures—
flattering； but still not lovely—are kissed in secret by motherly
lips。 I have seen many an excellent matron； who could have never
in her best days have been handsome； and yet she had a packet of
yellow love…letters in a private drawer； and sweet children
showered kisses on her sallow cheeks。 And I believe there have
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been plenty of young heroes； of middle stature and feeble beards；
who have felt quite sure they could never love anything more
insignificant than a Diana； and yet have found themselves in
middle life happily settled with a wife who waddles。 Yes！ Thank
God； human feeling is like the mighty rivers that bless the earth： it
does not wait for beauty—it flows with resistless force and brings
beauty with it。
All honour and reverence to the divine beauty of form！ Let us
cultivate it to the utmost in men； women； and children—in our
gardens and in our houses。 But let us love that other beauty too；
which lies in no secret of proportion； but in the secret of deep
human sympathy。 Paint us an angel； if you can； with a floating
vi
