As she was devoted1 to romantic effects Lord Warburton ventured to express a hope that she would come some day and see his house, a very curious old place. He extracted from Mrs. Touchett a promise that she would bring her niece to Lockleigh, and Ralph signified his willingness to attend the ladies if his father should be able to spare him. Lord Warburton assured our heroine that in the mean time his sisters would come and see her. She knew something about his sisters, having sounded him, during the hours they spent together while he was at Gardencourt, on many points connected with his family. When Isabel was interested she asked a great many questions, and as her companion was a copious2 talker she urged him on this occasion by no means in vain. He told her he had four sisters and two brothers and had lost both his parents. The brothers and sisters were very good people —“not particularly clever, you know,” he said, “but very decent and pleasant;” and he was so good as to hope Miss Archer3 might know them well. One of the brothers was in the Church, settled in the family living, that of Lockleigh, which was a heavy, sprawling4 parish, and was an excellent fellow in spite of his thinking differently from himself on every conceivable topic. And then Lord Warburton mentioned some of the opinions held by his brother, which were opinions Isabel had often heard expressed and that she supposed to be entertained by a considerable portion of the human family. Many of them indeed she supposed she had held herself, till he assured her she was quite mistaken, that it was really impossible, that she had doubtless imagined she entertained them, but that she might depend that, if she thought them over a little, she would find there was nothing in them. When she answered that she had already thought several of the questions involved over very attentively5 he declared that she was only another example of what he had often been struck with — the fact that, of all the people in the world, the Americans were the most grossly superstitious6. They were rank Tories and bigots, every one of them; there were no conservatives like American conservatives. Her uncle and her cousin were there to prove it; nothing could be more medieval than many of their views; they had ideas that people in England nowadays were ashamed to confess to; and they had the impudence7 moreover, said his lordship, laughing, to pretend they knew more about the needs and dangers of this poor dear stupid old England than he who was born in it and owned a considerable slice of it — the more shame to him! From all of which Isabel gathered that Lord Warburton was a nobleman of the newest pattern, a reformer, a radical8, a contemner9 of ancient ways. His other brother, who was in the army in India, was rather wild and pig-headed and had not been of much use as yet but to make debts for Warburton to pay — one of the most precious privileges of an elder brother. “I don’t think I shall pay any more,” said her friend; “he lives a monstrous10 deal better than I do, enjoys unheard-of luxuries and thinks himself a much finer gentleman than I. As I’m a consistent radical I go in only for equality; I don’t go in for the superiority of the younger brothers.” Two of his four sisters, the second and fourth, were married, one of them having done very well, as they said, the other only so-so. The husband of the elder, Lord Haycock, was a very good fellow, but unfortunately a horrid11 Tory; and his wife, like all good English wives, was worse than her husband. The other had espoused12 a smallish squire13 in Norfolk and, though married but the other day, had already five children. This information and much more Lord Warburton imparted to his young American listener, taking pains to make many things clear and to lay bare to her apprehension14 the peculiarities15 of English life. Isabel was often amused at his explicitness16 and at the small allowance he seemed to make either for her own experience or for her imagination. “He thinks I’m a barbarian,” she said, “and that I’ve never seen forks and spoons;” and she used to ask him artless questions for the pleasure of hearing him answer seriously. Then when he had fallen into the trap, “It’s a pity you can’t see me in my war-paint and feathers,” she remarked; “if I had known how kind you are to the poor savages17 I would have brought over my native costume!” Lord Warburton had travelled through the United States and knew much more about them than Isabel; he was so good as to say that America was the most charming country in the world, but his recollections of it appeared to encourage the idea that Americans in England would need to have a great many things explained to them. “If I had only had you to explain things to me in America!” he said. “I was rather puzzled in your country; in fact I was quite bewildered, and the trouble was that the explanations only puzzled me more. You know I think they often gave me the wrong ones on purpose; they’re rather clever about that over there. But when I explain you can trust me; about what I tell you there’s no mistake.” There was no mistake at least about his being very intelligent and cultivated and knowing almost everything in the world. Although he gave the most interesting and thrilling glimpses Isabel felt he never did it to exhibit himself, and though he had had rare chances and had tumbled in, as she put it, for high prizes, he was as far as possible from making a merit of it. He had enjoyed the best things of life, but they had not spoiled his sense of proportion. His quality was a mixture of the effect of rich experience — oh, so easily come by! — with a modesty18 at times almost boyish; the sweet and wholesome19 savour of which — it was as agreeable as something tasted — lost nothing from the addition of a tone of responsible kindness.
“I like your specimen20 English gentleman very much,” Isabel said to Ralph after Lord Warburton had gone.
“I like him too — I love him well,” Ralph returned. “But I pity him more.”
Isabel looked at him askance. “Why, that seems to me his only fault — that one can’t pity him a little. He appears to have everything, to know everything, to be everything.”
“Oh, he’s in a bad way!” Ralph insisted.
“I suppose you don’t mean in health?”
“No, as to that he’s detestably sound. What I mean is that he’s a man with a great position who’s playing all sorts of tricks with it. He doesn’t take himself seriously.”
“Does he regard himself as a joke?”
“Much worse; he regards himself as an imposition — as an abuse.”
“Well, perhaps he is,” said Isabel.
“Perhaps he is — though on the whole I don’t think so. But in that case what’s more pitiable than a sentient21, self-conscious abuse planted by other hands, deeply rooted but aching with a sense of its injustice22? For me, in his place, I could be as solemn as a statue of Buddha23. He occupies a position that appeals to my imagination. Great responsibilities, great opportunities, great consideration, great wealth, great power, a natural share in the public affairs of a great country. But he’s all in a muddle24 about himself, his position, his power, and indeed about everything in the world. He’s the victim of a critical age; he has ceased to believe in himself and he doesn’t know what to believe in. When I attempt to tell him (because if I were he I know very well what I should believe in) he calls me a pampered25 bigot. I believe he seriously thinks me an awful Philistine26; he says I don’t understand my time. I understand it certainly better than he, who can neither abolish himself as a nuisance nor maintain himself as an institution.”
“He doesn’t look very wretched,” Isabel observed.
“Possibly not; though, being a man of a good deal of charming taste, I think he often has uncomfortable hours. But what is it to say of a being of his opportunities that he’s not miserable27? Besides, I believe he is.”
“I don’t,” said Isabel.
“Well,” her cousin rejoined, “if he isn’t he ought to be!”
In the afternoon she spent an hour with her uncle on the lawn, where the old man sat, as usual, with his shawl over his legs and his large cup of diluted28 tea in his hands. In the course of conversation he asked her what she thought of their late visitor.
Isabel was prompt. “I think he’s charming.”
“He’s a nice person,” said Mr. Touchett, “but I don’t recommend you to fall in love with him.”
“I shall not do it then; I shall never fall in love but on your recommendation. Moreover,” Isabel added, “my cousin gives me rather a sad account of Lord Warburton.”
“Oh, indeed? I don’t know what there may be to say, but you must remember that Ralph must talk.”
“He thinks your friend’s too subversive29 — or not subversive enough! I don’t quite understand which,” said Isabel.
The old man shook his head slowly, smiled and put down his cup. “I don’t know which either. He goes very far, but it’s quite possible he doesn’t go far enough. He seems to want to do away with a good many things, but he seems to want to remain himself. I suppose that’s natural, but it’s rather inconsistent.”
“Oh, I hope he’ll remain himself,” said Isabel. “If he were to be done away with his friends would miss him sadly.”
“Well,” said the old man, “I guess he’ll stay and amuse his friends. I should certainly miss him very much here at Gardencourt. He always amuses me when he comes over, and I think he amuses himself as well. There’s a considerable number like him, round in society; they’re very fashionable just now. I don’t know what they’re trying to do — whether they’re trying to get up a revolution. I hope at any rate they’ll put it off till after I’m gone. You see they want to disestablish everything; but I’m a pretty big landowner here, and I don’t want to be disestablished. I wouldn’t have come over if I had thought they were going to behave like that,” Mr. Touchett went on with expanding hilarity30. “I came over because I thought England was a safe country. I call it a regular fraud if they are going to introduce any considerable changes; there’ll be a large number disappointed in that case.”
“Oh, I do hope they’ll make a revolution!” Isabel exclaimed. “I should delight in seeing a revolution.”
“Let me see,” said her uncle, with a humorous intention; “I forget whether you’re on the side of the old or on the side of the new. I’ve heard you take such opposite views.”
“I’m on the side of both. I guess I’m a little on the side of everything. In a revolution — after it was well begun — I think I should be a high, proud loyalist. One sympathises more with them, and they’ve a chance to behave so exquisitely31. I mean so picturesquely32.”
“I don’t know that I understand what you mean by behaving picturesquely, but it seems to me that you do that always, my dear.”
“Oh, you lovely man, if I could believe that!” the girl interrupted.
“I’m afraid, after all, you won’t have the pleasure of going gracefully33 to the guillotine here just now,” Mr. Touchett went on. “If you want to see a big outbreak you must pay us a long visit. You see, when you come to the point it wouldn’t suit them to be taken at their word.”
“Of whom are you speaking?”
“Well, I mean Lord Warburton and his friends — the radicals34 of the upper class. Of course I only know the way it strikes me. They talk about the changes, but I don’t think they quite realise. You and I, you know, we know what it is to have lived under democratic institutions: I always thought them very comfortable, but I was used to them from the first. And then I ain’t a lord; you’re a lady, my dear, but I ain’t a lord. Now over here I don’t think it quite comes home to them. It’s a matter of every day and every hour, and I don’t think many of them would find it as pleasant as what they’ve got. Of course if they want to try, it’s their own business; but I expect they won’t try very hard.”
“Don’t you think they’re sincere?” Isabel asked.
“Well, they want to FEEL earnest,” Mr. Touchett allowed; “but it seems as if they took it out in theories mostly. Their radical views are a kind of amusement; they’ve got to have some amusement, and they might have coarser tastes than that. You see they’re very luxurious35, and these progressive ideas are about their biggest luxury. They make them feel moral and yet don’t damage their position. They think a great deal of their position; don’t let one of them ever persuade you he doesn’t, for if you were to proceed on that basis you’d be pulled up very short.”
Isabel followed her uncle’s argument, which he unfolded with his quaint36 distinctness, most attentively, and though she was unacquainted with the British aristocracy she found it in harmony with her general impressions of human nature. But she felt moved to put in a protest on Lord Warburton’s behalf. “I don’t believe Lord Warburton’s a humbug37; I don’t care what the others are. I should like to see Lord Warburton put to the test.”
“Heaven deliver me from my friends!” Mr. Touchett answered. “Lord Warburton’s a very amiable38 young man — a very fine young man. He has a hundred thousand a year. He owns fifty thousand acres of the soil of this little island and ever so many other things besides. He has half a dozen houses to live in. He has a seat in Parliament as I have one at my own dinner-table. He has elegant tastes — cares for literature, for art, for science, for charming young ladies. The most elegant is his taste for the new views. It affords him a great deal of pleasure — more perhaps than anything else, except the young ladies. His old house over there — what does he call it, Lockleigh? — is very attractive; but I don’t think it’s as pleasant as this. That doesn’t matter, however — he has so many others. His views don’t hurt any one as far as I can see; they certainly don’t hurt himself. And if there were to be a revolution he would come off very easily. They wouldn’t touch him, they’d leave him as he is: he’s too much liked.”
“He’ll never be a martyr unless you make him one,” said the old man.
Isabel shook her head; there might have been something laughable in the fact that she did it with a touch of melancholy40. “I shall never make any one a martyr.”
“You’ll never be one, I hope.”
“I hope not. But you don’t pity Lord Warburton then as Ralph does?”
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1
devoted
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| adj.忠诚的，忠实的，热心的，献身于...的 | |
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copious
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| adj.丰富的，大量的 | |
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archer
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| n.射手，弓箭手 | |
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sprawling
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| adj.蔓生的，不规则地伸展的v.伸开四肢坐[躺]( sprawl的现在分词 )；蔓延；杂乱无序地拓展；四肢伸展坐着（或躺着） | |
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attentively
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| adv.聚精会神地；周到地；谛；凝神 | |
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superstitious
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| adj.迷信的 | |
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impudence
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| n.厚颜无耻；冒失；无礼 | |
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radical
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| n.激进份子，原子团，根号；adj.根本的，激进的，彻底的 | |
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contemner
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| n.谴责者，宣判者，定罪者 | |
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monstrous
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| adj.巨大的；恐怖的；可耻的，丢脸的 | |
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horrid
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| adj.可怕的；令人惊恐的；恐怖的；极讨厌的 | |
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espoused
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| v.（决定）支持，拥护（目标、主张等）( espouse的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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squire
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| n.护卫, 侍从, 乡绅 | |
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apprehension
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| n.理解，领悟；逮捕，拘捕；忧虑 | |
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peculiarities
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| n. 特质, 特性, 怪癖, 古怪 | |
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explicitness
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savages
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| 未开化的人，野蛮人( savage的名词复数 ) | |
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modesty
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| n.谦逊，虚心，端庄，稳重，羞怯，朴素 | |
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wholesome
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| adj.适合；卫生的；有益健康的；显示身心健康的 | |
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specimen
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| n.样本，标本 | |
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sentient
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| adj.有知觉的，知悉的；adv.有感觉能力地 | |
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injustice
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| n.非正义，不公正，不公平，侵犯（别人的）权利 | |
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Buddha
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| n.佛；佛像；佛陀 | |
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muddle
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| n.困惑，混浊状态；vt.使混乱，使糊涂，使惊呆；vi.胡乱应付，混乱 | |
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pampered
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| adj.饮食过量的，饮食奢侈的v.纵容，宠，娇养( pamper的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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philistine
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| n.庸俗的人；adj.市侩的，庸俗的 | |
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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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diluted
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| 无力的，冲淡的 | |
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subversive
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| adj.颠覆性的，破坏性的；n.破坏份子，危险份子 | |
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hilarity
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| n.欢乐；热闹 | |
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31
exquisitely
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| adv.精致地；强烈地；剧烈地；异常地 | |
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picturesquely
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gracefully
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| ad.大大方方地；优美地 | |
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radicals
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| n.激进分子( radical的名词复数 )；根基；基本原理；[数学]根数 | |
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luxurious
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| adj.精美而昂贵的；豪华的 | |
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quaint
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| adj.古雅的，离奇有趣的，奇怪的 | |
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humbug
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| n.花招，谎话，欺骗 | |
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amiable
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| adj.和蔼可亲的，友善的，亲切的 | |
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martyr
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| n.烈士，殉难者；vt.杀害，折磨，牺牲 | |
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melancholy
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| n.忧郁，愁思；adj.令人感伤（沮丧）的，忧郁的 | |
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genial
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| adj.亲切的，和蔼的，愉快的，脾气好的 | |
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