霍华德庄园 英文版 Howards End
爱德华.摩根.福斯特 Edward Morgan Forster
Chapter 19
If one wanted to show a foreigner England, perhaps thewisest course would be to take him to the final section ofthe Purbeck Hills, and stand him on their summit, a fewmiles to the east of Corfe. Then system after system of ourisland would roll together under his feet. Beneath him isthe valley of the Frome, and all the wild lands that cometossing down from Dorchester, black and gold, to mirrortheir gorse in the expanses of Poole. The valley of theStour is beyond, unaccountable stream, dirty at Blandford,pure at Wimborne--the Stour, sliding out of fat fields, tomarry the Avon beneath the tower of Christchurch. Thevalley of the Avon--invisible, but far to the north thetrained eye may see Clearbury Ring that guards it, and theimagination may leap beyond that on to Salisbury Plainitself, and beyond the Plain to all the glorious downs ofCentral England. Nor is Suburbia absent. Bournemouth'signoble coast cowers to the right, heralding the pine-treesthat mean, for all their beauty, red houses, and the StockExchange, and extend to the gates of London itself. Sotremendous is the City's trail! But the cliffs ofFreshwater it shall never touch, and the island will guardthe Island's purity till the end of time. Seen from thewest, the Wight is beautiful beyond all laws of beauty. Itis as if a fragment of England floated forward to greet theforeigner--chalk of our chalk, turf of our turf, epitome ofwhat will follow. And behind the fragment lies Southampton,hostess to the nations, and Portsmouth, a latent fire, andall around it, with double and treble collision of tides,swirls the sea. How many villages appear in this view! Howmany castles! How many churches, vanished or triumphant!How many ships, railways, and roads! What incrediblevariety of men working beneath that lucent sky to what finalend! The reason fails, like a wave on the Swanage beach;the imagination swells, spreads, and deepens, until itbecomes geographic and encircles England.
So Frieda Mosebach, now Frau Architect Liesecke, andmother to her husband's baby, was brought up to theseheights to be impressed, and, after a prolonged gaze, shesaid that the hills were more swelling here than inPomerania, which was true, but did not seem to Mrs. Muntapposite. Poole Harbour was dry, which led her to praisethe absence of muddy foreshore at Friedrich Wilhelms Bad,Rugen, where beech-trees hang over the tideless Baltic, andcows may contemplate the brine. Rather unhealthy Mrs. Muntthought this would be, water being safer when it moved about.
"And your English lakes--Vindermere, Grasmere--are they,then, unhealthy?"
"No, Frau Liesecke; but that is because they are freshwater, and different. Salt water ought to have tides, andgo up and down a great deal, or else it smells. Look, forinstance, at an aquarium."
"An aquarium! Oh, MEESIS Munt, you mean to tell me thatfresh aquariums stink less than salt? Why, when Victor, mybrother-in-law, collected many tadpoles--"
"You are not to say 'stink,'" interrupted Helen; "atleast, you may say it, but you must pretend you are beingfunny while you say it."
"Then 'smell.' And the mud of your Pool down there--doesit not smell, or may I say 'stink, ha, ha'?"
"There always has been mud in Poole Harbour," said Mrs.Munt, with a slight frown. "The rivers bring it down, and amost valuable oyster-fishery depends upon it."
"Yes, that is so," conceded Frieda; and anotherinternational incident was closed.
"'Bournemouth is,'" resumed their hostess, quoting alocal rhyme to which she was much attached--" 'Bournemouthis, Poole was, and Swanage is to be the most important townof all and biggest of the three.' Now, Frau Liesecke, I haveshown you Bournemouth, and I have shown you Poole, so let uswalk backward a little, and look down again at Swanage."
"Aunt Juley, wouldn't that be Meg's train?"
A tiny puff of smoke had been circling the harbour, andnow was bearing southwards towards them over the black andthe gold.
"Oh, dearest Margaret, I do hope she won't be overtired."
"Oh, I do wonder--I do wonder whether she's taken the house."
"I hope she hasn't been hasty."
"So do I--oh, so do I."
"Will it be as beautiful as Wickham Place?" Frieda asked.
"I should think it would. Trust Mr. Wilcox for doinghimself proud. All those Ducie Street houses are beautifulin their modern way, and I can't think why he doesn't keepon with it. But it's really for Evie that he went there,and now that Evie's going to be married--"
"Ah!"
"You've never seen Miss Wilcox, Frieda. How absurdlymatrimonial you are!"
"But sister to that Paul?"
"Yes."
"And to that Charles," said Mrs. Munt with feeling."Oh, Helen, Helen, what a time that was!"
Helen laughed. "Meg and I haven't got such tenderhearts. If there's a chance of a cheap house, we go for it."
"Now look, Frau Liesecke, at my niece's train. You see,it is coming towards us--coming, coming; and, when it getsto Corfe, it will actually go THROUGH the downs, on which weare standing, so that, if we walk over, as I suggested, andlook down on Swanage, we shall see it coming on the otherside. Shall we?"
Frieda assented, and in a few minutes they had crossedthe ridge and exchanged the greater view for the lesser.Rather a dull valley lay below, backed by the slope of thecoastward downs. They were looking across the Isle ofPurbeck and on to Swanage, soon to be the most importanttown of all, and ugliest of the three. Margaret's trainreappeared as promised, and was greeted with approval by heraunt. It came to a standstill in the middle distance, andthere it had been planned that Tibby should meet her, anddrive her, and a tea-basket, up to join them.
"You see," continued Helen to her cousin, "the Wilcoxescollect houses as your Victor collects tadpoles. They have,one, Ducie Street; two, Howards End, where my great rumpuswas; three, a country seat in Shropshire; four, Charles hasa house in Hilton; and five, another near Epsom; and six,Evie will have a house when she marries, and probably apied-a-terre in the country--which makes seven. Oh yes, andPaul a hut in Africa makes eight. I wish we could getHowards End. That was something like a dear little house!Didn't you think so, Aunt Juley?"
hope she hasn't been hasty."overtired."out!
" I had too much to do, dear, to look at it," said Mrs.Munt, with a gracious dignity. "I had everything to settleand explain, and Charles Wilcox to keep in his placebesides. It isn't likely I should remember much. I justremember having lunch in your bedroom."
"Yes so do I. But, oh dear, dear, how dead it allseems! And in the autumn there began this anti-Paulinemovement--you, and Frieda, and Meg, and Mrs. Wilcox, allobsessed with the idea that I might yet marry Paul."
"You yet may," said Frieda despondently.
Helen shook her head. "The Great Wilcox Peril willnever return. If I'm certain of anything it's of that."
"One is certain of nothing but the truth of one's own emotions."
The remark fell damply on the conversation. But Helenslipped her arm round her cousin, somehow liking her thebetter for making it. It was not an original remark, norhad Frieda appropriated it passionately, for she had apatriotic rather than a philosophic mind. Yet it betrayedthat interest in the universal which the average Teutonpossesses and the average Englishman does not. It was,however illogically, the good, the beautiful, the true, asopposed to the respectable, the pretty, the adequate. Itwas a landscape of Bocklin's beside a landscape of Leader's,strident and ill-considered, but quivering into supernaturallife. It sharpened idealism, stirred the soul. It may havebeen a bad preparation for what followed.
"Look!" cried Aunt Juley, hurrying away fromgeneralities over the narrow summit of the down. "Standwhere I stand, and you will see the pony-cart coming. I seethe pony-cart coming."
They stood and saw the pony-cart coming. Margaret andTibby were presently seen coming in it. Leaving theoutskirts of Swanage, it drove for a little through thebudding lanes, and then began the ascent.
"Have you got the house?" they shouted, long before shecould possibly hear.
Helen ran down to meet her. The highroad passed over asaddle, and a track went thence at right angles along theridge of the down.
"Have you got the house?"
Margaret shook her head.
"Oh, what a nuisance! So we're as we were?"
"Not exactly."
She got out, looking tired.
"Some mystery," said Tibby. "We are to be enlightened presently."
Margaret came close up to her and whispered that she hadhad a proposal of marriage from Mr. Wilcox.
Helen was amused. She opened the gate on to the downsso that her brother might lead the pony through. "It's justlike a widower," she remarked. "They've cheek enough foranything, and invariably select one of their first wife's friends."
Margaret's face flashed despair.
"That type--" She broke off with a cry. "Meg, notanything wrong with you?"
"Wait one minute," said Margaret, whispering always.
"But you've never conceivably--you've never--" Shepulled herself together. "Tibby, hurry up through; I can'thold this gate indefinitely. Aunt Juley! I say, AuntJuley, make the tea, will you, and Frieda; we've got to talkhouses, and I'll come on afterwards." And then, turning herface to her sister's, she burst into tears.
Margaret was stupefied. She heard herself saying, "Oh,really--" She felt herself touched with a hand that trembled.
"Don't," sobbed Helen, "don't, don't, Meg, don't!" Sheseemed incapable of saying any other word. Margaret,trembling herself, led her forward up the road, till theystrayed through another gate on to the down.
"Don't, don't do such a thing! I tell you notto--don't! I know--don't!"
"What do you know?"
"Panic and emptiness," sobbed Helen. "Don't!"
Then Margaret thought, "Helen is a little selfish. Ihave never behaved like this when there has seemed a chanceof her marrying. She said: "But we would still see eachother very often, and--"
"It's not a thing like that," sobbed Helen. And shebroke right away and wandered distractedly upwards,stretching her hands towards the view and crying.
"What's happened to you?" called Margaret, followingthrough the wind that gathers at sundown on the northernslopes of hills. "But it's stupid!" And suddenly stupidityseized her, and the immense landscape was blurred. ButHelen turned back.
" Meg--"
"I don't know what's happened to either of us," saidMargaret, wiping her eyes. "We must both have gone mad."Then Helen wiped hers, and they even laughed a little.
"Look here, sit down."
"All right; I'll sit down if you'll sit down."
"There. (One kiss.) Now, whatever, whatever is the matter?"
"I do mean what I said. Don't; it wouldn't do."
"Oh, Helen, stop saying 'don't'! It's ignorant. It'sas if your head wasn't out of the slime. 'Don't' isprobably what Mrs. Bast says all the day to Mr. Bast."
Helen was silent.
"Well?"
"Tell me about it first, and meanwhile perhaps I'll havegot my head out of the slime."
"That's better. Well, where shall I begin? When Iarrived at Waterloo--no, I'll go back before that, becauseI'm anxious you should know everything from the first. The'first' was about ten days ago. It was the day Mr. Bastcame to tea and lost his temper. I was defending him, andMr. Wilcox became jealous about me, however slightly. Ithought it was the involuntary thing, which men can't helpany more than we can. You know--at least, I know in my owncase--when a man has said to me, 'So-and-so's a prettygirl,' I am seized with a momentary sourness againstSo-and-so, and long to tweak her ear. It's a tiresomefeeling, but not an important one, and one easily managesit. But it wasn't only this in Mr. Wilcox's case, I gather now."
"Then you love him?"
Margaret considered. "It is wonderful knowing that areal man cares for you," she said. "The mere fact of thatgrows more tremendous. Remember, I've known and liked himsteadily for nearly three years.
Meg--"settled to marry him?"
"But loved him?"
Margaret peered into her past. It is pleasant toanalyze feelings while they are still only feelings, andunembodied in the social fabric. With her arm round Helen,and her eyes shifting over the view, as if this county orthat could reveal the secret of her own heart, she meditatedhonestly, and said, "No."
"But you will?"
"Yes," said Margaret, "of that I'm pretty sure. Indeed,I began the moment he spoke to me."
"And have settled to marry him?"
"I had, but am wanting a long talk about it now. Whatis it against him, Helen? You must try and say."
Helen, in her turn, looked outwards. "It is ever sincePaul," she said finally.
"But what has Mr. Wilcox to do with Paul?"
"But he was there, they were all there that morning whenI came down to breakfast, and saw that Paul wasfrightened--the man who loved me frightened and all hisparaphernalia fallen, so that I knew it was impossible,because personal relations are the important thing for everand ever, and not this outer life of telegrams and anger."
She poured the sentence forth in one breath, but hersister understood it, because it touched on thoughts thatwere familiar between them.
"That's foolish. In the first place, I disagree aboutthe outer life. Well, we've often argued that. The realpoint is that there is the widest gulf between mylove-making and yours. Yours--was romance; mine will beprose. I'm not running it down--a very good kind of prose,but well considered, well thought out. For instance, I knowall Mr. Wilcox's faults. He's afraid of emotion. He carestoo much about success, too little about the past. Hissympathy lacks poetry, and so isn't sympathy really. I'deven say"--she looked at the shining lagoons--"that,spiritually, he's not as honest as I am. Doesn't thatsatisfy you?"
"No, it doesn't," said Helen. "It makes me feel worseand worse. You must be mad."
Margaret made a movement of irritation.
"I don't intend him, or any man or any woman, to be allmy life--good heavens, no! There are heaps of things in methat he doesn't, and shall never, understand."
Thus she spoke before the wedding ceremony and thephysical union, before the astonishing glass shade hadfallen that interposes between married couples and theworld. She was to keep her independence more than do mostwomen as yet. Marriage was to alter her fortunes ratherthan her character, and she was not far wrong in boastingthat she understood her future husband. Yet he did alterher character--a little. There was an unforeseen surprise,a cessation of the winds and odours of life, a socialpressure that would have her think conjugally.
"So with him," she continued. "There are heaps ofthings in him--more especially things that he does--thatwill always be hidden from me. He has all those publicqualities which you so despise and enable all this--" Shewaved her hand at the landscape, which confirmed anything."If Wilcoxes hadn't worked and died in England for thousandsof years, you and I couldn't sit here without having ourthroats cut. There would be no trains, no ships to carry usliterary people about in, no fields even. Just savagery.No--perhaps not even that. Without their spirit life mightnever have moved out of protoplasm. More and more do Irefuse to draw my income and sneer at those who guaranteeit. There are times when it seems to me--"
"And to me, and to all women. So one kissed Paul."
"That's brutal," said Margaret. "Mine is an absolutelydifferent case. I've thought things out."
"It makes no difference thinking things out. They cometo the same."
" Rubbish!"
There was a long silence, during which the tide returnedinto Poole Harbour. "One would lose something," murmuredHelen, apparently to herself. The water crept over themud-flats towards the gorse and the blackened heather.Branksea Island lost its immense foreshores, and became asombre episode of trees. Frome was forced inward towardsDorchester, Stour against Wimborne, Avon towards Salisbury,and over the immense displacement the sun presided, leadingit to triumph ere he sank to rest. England was alive,throbbing through all her estuaries, crying for joy throughthe mouths of all her gulls, and the north wind, withcontrary motion, blew stronger against her rising seas.What did it mean? For what end are her fair complexities,her changes of soil, her sinuous coast? Does she belong tothose who have moulded her and made her feared by otherlands, or to those who have added nothing to her power, buthave somehow seen her, seen the whole island at once, lyingas a jewel in a silver sea, sailing as a ship of souls, withall the brave world's fleet accompanying her towardseternity?