cranford(克兰弗德)-第15章
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alarmed； and the first part of her letters was often written in pretty
intelligible English； conveying particulars of the preparations which
were made in the family with whom she was residing against the
dreaded event； the bundles of clothes that were packed up ready for a
flight to Alston Moor （a wild hilly piece of ground between
Northumberland and Cumberland）； the signal that was to be given for
this flight； and for the simultaneous turning out of the volunteers under
arms … which said signal was to consist （if I remember rightly） in ringing
the church bells in a particular and ominous manner。 One day； when
Miss Jenkyns and her hosts were at a dinner…party in Newcastle； this
warning summons was actually given （not a very wise proceeding； if
there be any truth in the moral attached to the fable of the Boy and the
Wolf； but so it was）； and Miss Jenkyns； hardly recovered from her fright；
wrote the next day to describe the sound； the breathless shock； the hurry
and alarm； and then； taking breath； she added； 〃How trivial； my dear
father； do all our apprehensions of the last evening appear； at the present
moment； to calm and enquiring minds！〃 And here Miss Matty broke in
with …
〃But； indeed； my dear； they were not at all trivial or trifling at the
time。 I know I used to wake up in the night many a time and think I
heard the tramp of the French entering Cranford。 Many people talked
of hiding themselves in the salt mines … and meat would have kept
capitally down there； only perhaps we should have been thirsty。 And
my father preached a whole set of sermons on the occasion； one set in
the mornings； all about David and Goliath； to spirit up the people to
fighting with spades or bricks； if need were； and the other set in the
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afternoons； proving that Napoleon （that was another name for Bony； as
we used to call him） was all the same as an Apollyon and Abaddon。 I
remember my father rather thought he should be asked to print this last
set； but the parish had； perhaps； had enough of them with hearing。〃
Peter Marmaduke Arley Jenkyns （〃poor Peter！〃 as Miss Matty began
to call him） was at school at Shrewsbury by this time。 The rector
took up his pen； and rubbed up his Latin once more； to correspond with
his boy。 It was very clear that the lad's were what are called show
letters。 They were of a highly mental description； giving an account of
his studies； and his intellectual hopes of various kinds； with an
occasional quotation from the classics； but； now and then； the animal
nature broke out in such a little sentence as this； evidently written in a
trembling hurry； after the letter had been inspected： 〃Mother dear； do
send me a cake； and put plenty of citron in。〃 The 〃mother dear〃
probably answered her boy in the form of cakes and 〃goody；〃 for there
were none of her letters among this set； but a whole collection of the
rector's； to whom the Latin in his boy's letters was like a trumpet to the
old war…horse。 I do not know much about Latin； certainly； and it is；
perhaps； an ornamental language； but not very useful； I think … at least to
judge from the bits I remember out of the rector's letters。 One was；
〃You have not got that town in your map of Ireland； but BONUS
BERNARDUS NON VIDET OMNIA； as the Proverbia say。〃 Presently it
became very evident that 〃poor Peter〃 got himself into many scrapes。
There were letters of stilted penitence to his father； for some wrong…
doing； and among them all was a badly…written； badly…sealed； badly…
directed； blotted note：… 〃My dear； dear； dear； dearest mother； I will be a
better boy； I will； indeed； but don't； please； be ill for me； I am not worth
it； but I will be good； darling mother。〃
Miss Matty could not speak for crying； after she had read this note。
She gave it to me in silence； and then got up and took it to her sacred
recesses in her own room； for fear； by any chance； it might get burnt。
〃Poor Peter！〃 she said； 〃he was always in scrapes； he was too easy。
They led him wrong； and then left him in the lurch。 But he was too
fond of mischief。 He could never resist a joke。 Poor Peter！〃
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CHAPTER VI … POOR PETER
POOR Peter's career lay before him rather pleasantly mapped out by
kind friends； but BONUS BERNARDUS NON VIDET OMNIA； in this
map too。 He was to win honours at the Shrewsbury School； and carry
them thick to Cambridge； and after that； a living awaited him； the gift
of his godfather； Sir Peter Arley。 Poor Peter！ his lot in life was very
different to what his friends had hoped and planned。 Miss Matty told
me all about it； and I think it was a relief when she had done so。
He was the darling of his mother； who seemed to dote on all her
children； though she was； perhaps； a little afraid of Deborah's superior
acquirements。 Deborah was the favourite of her father； and when Peter
disappointed him； she became his pride。 The sole honour Peter brought
away from Shrewsbury was the reputation of being the best good fellow
that ever was； and of being the captain of the school in the art of
practical joking。 His father was disappointed； but set about remedying
the matter in a manly way。 He could not afford to send Peter to read
with any tutor； but he could read with him himself； and Miss Matty told
me much of the awful preparations in the way of dictionaries and
lexicons that were made in her father's study the morning Peter began。
〃My poor mother！〃 said she。 〃I remember how she used to stand in
the hall； just near enough the study…door； to catch the tone of my father's
voice。 I could tell in a moment if all was going right； by her face。
And it did go right for a long time。〃
〃What went wrong at last？〃 said I。 〃That tiresome Latin； I dare
say。〃
〃No！ it was not the Latin。 Peter was in high favour with my father；
for he worked up well for him。 But he seemed to think that the
Cranford people might be joked about； and made fun of； and they did not
like it； nobody does。 He was always hoaxing them； 'hoaxing' is not a
pretty word； my dear； and I hope you won't tell your father I used it； for I
should not like him to think that I was not choice in my language； after
living with such a woman as Deborah。 And be sure you never use it
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yourself。 I don't know how it slipped out of my mouth； except it was
that I was thinking of poor Peter and it was always his expression。 But
he was a very gentlemanly boy in many things。 He was like dear
Captain Brown in always being ready to help any old person or a child。
Still； he did like joking and making fun； and he seemed to think the old
ladies in Cranford would believe anything。 There were many old ladies
living here then； we are principally ladies now； I know； but we are not so
old as the ladies used to be when I was a girl。 I could laugh to think of
some of Peter's jokes。 No； my dear； I won't tell you of them； because
they might not shock you as they ought to do； and they were very
shocking。 He even took in my father once； by dressing himself up as a
lady that was passing through the town and wished to see the Rector of
Cranford； 'who had published that admirable Assize Sermon。' Peter
said he was awfully frightened himself when he saw how my father took
it all in； and even offered to copy out all his Napoleon Buonaparte
sermons for her … him； I mean … no； her； for Peter was a lady then。 He
told me he was more terrified than he ever was before； all the time my
father was speaking。 He did not think my father would have believed
him； and yet if he had not； it would have been a sad thing for Peter。 As
it was； he was none so glad of it； for my father kept him hard at work
copying out all those twelve Buonaparte sermons for the lady … that was
for Peter himself； you know。 He was the lady。 And once when he
wanted to go fishing； Peter said； 'Confound the woman！' … very bad
language； my dear； but Peter was not always so guarded as he should
have been； my father was so angry with him； it nearly frightened me out
of my wits： and yet I could hardly keep from laughing at the little
curtseys Peter kept making； quite slyly； whenever my father spoke of the
lady's excellent taste and sound discrimination。〃
〃Di
