A WELL-FED boy, with yellow Saxon hair; a little shabby green chaise; and a rough brown pony1 — these objects confronted me at the Lewes Station. I said to the boy, “Are you Reverend Finch’s servant?” And the boy answered, “I be he.”
We drove through the town — a hilly town of desolate2 clean houses. No living creatures visible behind the jealously-shut windows. No living creatures entering or departing through the sad-colored closed doors. No theater; no place of amusement except an empty town-hall, with a sad policeman meditating3 on its spruce white steps. No customers in the shops, and nobody to serve them behind the counter, even if they had turned up. Here and there on the pavements, an inhabitant with a capacity for staring, and (apparently4) a capacity for nothing else. I said to Reverend Finch’s boy, “Is this a rich place?” Reverend Finch’s boy brightened and answered, “That it be!” Good. At any rate, they don’t enjoy themselves here — the infamous5 rich!
Leaving this town of unamused citizens immured6 in domestic tombs, we got on a fine high road — still ascending7 — with a spacious8 open country on either side of it.
A spacious open country is a country soon exhausted9 by a sight-seer’s eye. I have learnt from my poor Pratolungo the habit of searching for the political convictions of my fellow-creatures, when I find myself in contact with them in strange places. Having nothing else to do, I searched Finch’s boy. His political programme, I found to be:— As much meat and beer as I can contain; and as little work to do for it as possible. In return for this, to touch my hat when I meet the Squire10, and to be content with the station to which it has pleased God to call me. Miserable11 Finch’s boy!
We reached the highest point of the road. On our right hand, the ground sloped away gently into a fertile valley — with a village and a church in it; and beyond, an abominable12 privileged enclosure of grass and trees torn from the community by a tyrant13, and called a Park; with the palace in which this enemy of mankind caroused14 and fattened15, standing16 in the midst. On our left hand, spread the open country — a magnificent prospect17 of grand grassy18 hills, rolling away to the horizon; bounded only by the sky. To my surprise, Finch’s boy descended19; took the pony by the head; and deliberately20 led him off the high road, and on to the wilderness21 of grassy hills, on which not so much as a footpath22 was discernible anywhere, far or near. The chaise began to heave and roll like a ship on the sea. It became necessary to hold with both hands to keep my place. I thought first of my luggage — then of myself.
“How much is there of this?” I asked.
“Three mile on’t,” answered Finch’s boy.
I insisted on stopping the ship — I mean the chaise — and on getting out. We tied my luggage fast with a rope; and then we went on again, the boy at the pony’s head, and I after them on foot.
Ah, what a walk it was! What air over my head; what grass under my feet! The sweetness of the inner land, and the crisp saltness of the distant sea, were mixed in that delicious breeze. The short turf, fragrant23 with odorous herbs, rose and fell elastic24, underfoot. The mountain-piles of white cloud moved in sublime25 procession along the blue field of heaven, overhead. The wild growth of prickly bushes, spread in great patches over the grass, was in a glory of yellow bloom. On we went; now up, now down; now bending to the right, and now turning to the left. I looked about me. No house; no road; no paths, fences, hedges, walls; no land-marks of any sort. All round us, turn which way we might, nothing was to be seen but the majestic26 solitude27 of the hills. No living creatures appeared but the white dots of sheep scattered28 over the soft green distance, and the skylark singing his hymn29 of happiness, a speck30 above my head. Truly a wonderful place! Distant not more than a morning’s drive from noisy and populous31 Brighton — a stranger to this neighborhood could only have found his way by the compass, exactly as if he had been sailing on the sea! The farther we penetrated32 on our land-voyage, the more wild and the more beautiful the solitary33 landscape grew. The boy picked his way as he chose — there were no barriers here. Plodding34 behind, I saw nothing, at one time, but the back of the chaise, tilted35 up in the air, both boy and pony being invisibly buried in the steep descent of the hill. At other times, the pitch was all the contrary way; the whole interior of the ascending chaise was disclosed to my view, and above the chaise the pony, and above the pony the boy — and, ah, my luggage swaying and rocking in the frail36 embraces of the rope that held it. Twenty times did I confidently expect to see baggage, chaise, pony, boy, all rolling down into the bottom of a valley together. But no! Not the least little accident happened to spoil my enjoyment37 of the day. Politically contemptible38, Finch’s boy had his merit — he was master of his subject as guide and pony-leader among the South Down Hills.
Arrived at the top of (as it seemed to me) our fiftieth grassy summit, I began to look about for signs of the village.
Behind me, rolled back the long undulations of the hills, with the cloud-shadows moving over the solitudes39 that we had left. Before me, at a break in the purple distance, I saw the soft white line of the sea. Beneath me, at my feet, opened the deepest valley I had noticed yet — with one first sign of the presence of Man scored hideously40 on the face of Nature, in the shape of a square brown patch of cleared and ploughed land on the grassy slope. I asked if we were getting near the village now. Finch’s boy winked41, and answered, “Yes, we be.”
Astonishing Finch’s boy! Ask him what questions I might, the resources of his vocabulary remained invariably the same. Still this youthful Oracle42 answered always in three monosyllabic words!
We plunged43 into the valley.
Arrived at the bottom, I discovered another sign of Man. Behold44 the first road I had seen yet — a rough wagon-road ploughed deep in the chalky soil! We crossed this, and turned a corner of a hill. More signs of human life. Two small boys started up out of a ditch — apparently posted as scouts45 to give notice of our approach. They yelled, and set off running before us, by some short cut, known only to themselves. We turned again, round another winding46 of the valley, and crossed a brook47. I considered it my duty to make myself acquainted with the local names. What was the brook called? It was called “The Cockshoot”! And the great hill, here, on my right? It was called “The Overblow”! Five minutes more, and we saw our first house — lonely and little — built of mortar48 and flint from the hills. A name to this also? Certainly. Name of “Browndown.” Another ten minutes of walking, involving us more and more deeply in the mysterious green windings49 of the valley — and the great event of the day happened at last. Finch’s boy pointed50 before him with his whip, and said (even at this supreme51 moment, still in three monosyllabic words):—
“Here we be!”
So this is Dimchurch! I shake out the chalk-dust from the skirts of my dress. I long (quite vainly) for the least bit of looking-glass to see myself in. Here is the population (to the number of at least five or six), gathered together, informed by the scouts — and it is my woman’s business to produce the best impression of myself that I can. We advance along the little road. I smile upon the population. The population stares at me in return. On one side, I remark three or four cottages, and a bit of open ground; also an inn named “The Cross–Hands,” and a bit more of open ground; also a tiny, tiny butcher’s shop, with sanguinary insides of sheep on one blue pie-dish in the window, and no other meat than that, and nothing to see beyond, but again the open ground, and again the hills; indicating the end of the village this side. On the other side there appears, for some distance, nothing but a long flint wall guarding the outhouses of a farm. Beyond this, comes another little group of cottages, with the seal of civilization set on them, in the form of a post-office. The post-office deals in general commodities — in boots and bacon, biscuits and flannel52, crinoline petticoats and religious tracts53. Farther on, behold another flint wall, a garden, and a private dwelling-house; proclaiming itself as the rectory. Farther yet, on rising ground, a little desolate church, with a tiny white circular steeple, topped by an extinguisher in red tiles. Beyond this, the hills and the heavens once more. And there is Dimchurch!
As for the inhabitants — what am I to say? I suppose I must tell the truth.
I remarked one born gentleman among the inhabitants, and he was a sheep-dog. He alone did the honors of the place. He had a stump54 of a tail, which he wagged at me with extreme difficulty, and a good honest white and black face which he poked55 companionably into my hand. “Welcome, Madame Pratolungo, to Dimchurch; and excuse these male and female laborers56 who stand and stare at you. The good God who makes us all has made them too, but has not succeeded so well as with you and me.” I happen to be one of the few people who can read dogs’ language as written in dogs’ faces. I correctly report the language of the gentleman sheep-dog on this occasion.
We opened the gate of the rectory, and passed in. So my Land–Voyage over the South Down Hills came prosperously to its end.
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1
pony
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| adj.小型的；n.小马 | |
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2
desolate
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| adj.荒凉的，荒芜的；孤独的，凄凉的；v.使荒芜，使孤寂 | |
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meditating
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| a.沉思的，冥想的 | |
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apparently
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| adv.显然地；表面上，似乎 | |
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infamous
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| adj.声名狼藉的，臭名昭著的，邪恶的 | |
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immured
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| v.禁闭，监禁( immure的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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ascending
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| adj.上升的，向上的 | |
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spacious
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| adj.广阔的，宽敞的 | |
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9
exhausted
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| adj.极其疲惫的，精疲力尽的 | |
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squire
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| n.护卫, 侍从, 乡绅 | |
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miserable
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| adj.悲惨的，痛苦的；可怜的，糟糕的 | |
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abominable
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| adj.可厌的，令人憎恶的 | |
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13
tyrant
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| n.暴君，专制的君主，残暴的人 | |
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caroused
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| v.痛饮，闹饮欢宴( carouse的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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15
fattened
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| v.喂肥( fatten的过去式和过去分词 )；养肥（牲畜）；使（钱）增多；使（公司）升值 | |
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16
standing
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| n.持续，地位；adj.永久的，不动的，直立的，不流动的 | |
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prospect
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| n.前景，前途；景色，视野 | |
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18
grassy
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| adj.盖满草的；长满草的 | |
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19
descended
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| a.为...后裔的，出身于...的 | |
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deliberately
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| adv.审慎地；蓄意地；故意地 | |
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21
wilderness
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| n.杳无人烟的一片陆地、水等，荒漠 | |
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footpath
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| n.小路，人行道 | |
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23
fragrant
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| adj.芬香的，馥郁的，愉快的 | |
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24
elastic
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| n.橡皮圈，松紧带；adj.有弹性的；灵活的 | |
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sublime
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| adj.崇高的，伟大的；极度的，不顾后果的 | |
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majestic
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| adj.雄伟的，壮丽的，庄严的，威严的，崇高的 | |
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solitude
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| n. 孤独; 独居,荒僻之地,幽静的地方 | |
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28
scattered
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| adj.分散的，稀疏的；散步的；疏疏落落的 | |
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hymn
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| n.赞美诗，圣歌，颂歌 | |
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30
speck
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| n.微粒，小污点，小斑点 | |
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31
populous
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| adj.人口稠密的，人口众多的 | |
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32
penetrated
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| adj. 击穿的，鞭辟入里的 动词penetrate的过去式和过去分词形式 | |
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33
solitary
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| adj.孤独的，独立的，荒凉的；n.隐士 | |
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34
plodding
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| a.proceeding in a slow or dull way | |
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35
tilted
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| v. 倾斜的 | |
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frail
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| adj.身体虚弱的；易损坏的 | |
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37
enjoyment
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| n.乐趣；享有；享用 | |
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38
contemptible
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| adj.可鄙的，可轻视的，卑劣的 | |
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39
solitudes
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| n.独居( solitude的名词复数 )；孤独；荒僻的地方；人迹罕至的地方 | |
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40
hideously
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| adv.可怕地，非常讨厌地 | |
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41
winked
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| v.使眼色( wink的过去式和过去分词 )；递眼色（表示友好或高兴等）；（指光）闪烁；闪亮 | |
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42
oracle
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| n.神谕，神谕处，预言 | |
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43
plunged
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| v.颠簸( plunge的过去式和过去分词 )；暴跌；骤降；突降 | |
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44
behold
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| v.看，注视，看到 | |
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45
scouts
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| 侦察员[机，舰]( scout的名词复数 )； 童子军； 搜索； 童子军成员 | |
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46
winding
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| n.绕，缠，绕组，线圈 | |
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47
brook
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| n.小河，溪；v.忍受，容让 | |
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48
mortar
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| n.灰浆，灰泥；迫击炮；v.把…用灰浆涂接合 | |
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49
windings
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| （道路、河流等）蜿蜒的，弯曲的( winding的名词复数 )； 缠绕( wind的现在分词 )； 卷绕； 转动（把手） | |
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50
pointed
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| adj.尖的，直截了当的 | |
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51
supreme
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| adj.极度的，最重要的；至高的，最高的 | |
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52
flannel
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| n.法兰绒；法兰绒衣服 | |
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53
tracts
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| 大片土地( tract的名词复数 )； 地带； （体内的）道； （尤指宣扬宗教、伦理或政治的）短文 | |
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54
stump
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| n.残株，烟蒂，讲演台；v.砍断，蹒跚而走 | |
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55
poked
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| v.伸出( poke的过去式和过去分词 )；戳出；拨弄；与（某人）性交 | |
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56
laborers
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| n.体力劳动者，工人( laborer的名词复数 )；（熟练工人的）辅助工 | |
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