I went down to Arfon in the very heat and bloom and fragrance1 of the wonderful summer that they were enjoying there. In London there was no such weather; it rather seemed as if the horror and fury of the war had mounted to the very skies and were there reigning2. In the mornings the sun burnt down upon the city with a heat that scorched3 and consumed; but then clouds heavy and horrible would roll together from all quarters of the heavens, and early in the afternoon the air would darken, and a storm of thunder and lightning, and furious, hissing4 rain would fall upon the streets. Indeed, the torment5 of the world was in the London weather. The city wore a terrible vesture; within our hearts was dread6; without we were clothed in black clouds and angry fire.
It is certain that I cannot show in any words the utter peace of that Welsh coast to which I came; one sees, I think, in such a change a figure of the passage from the disquiets7 and the fears of earth to the peace of paradise. A land that seemed to be in a holy, happy dream, a sea that changed all the while from olivine to emerald, from emerald to sapphire8, from sapphire to amethyst9, that washed in white foam10 at the bases of the firm, grey rocks, and about the huge crimson11 bastions that hid the western bays and inlets of the waters; to this land I came, and to hollows that were purple and odorous with wild thyme, wonderful with many tiny, exquisite12 flowers. There was benediction13 in centaury, pardon in eye-bright, joy in lady’s slipper14; and so the weary eyes were refreshed, looking now at the little flowers and the happy bees about them, now on the magic mirror of the deep, changing from marvel15 to marvel with the passing of the great white clouds, with the brightening of the sun. And the ears, torn with jangle and racket and idle, empty noise, were soothed16 and comforted by the ineffable17, unutterable, unceasing murmur18, as the tides swam to and fro, uttering mighty19, hollow voices in the caverns20 of the rocks.
For three or four days I rested in the sun and smelt21 the savour of the blossoms and of the salt water, and then, refreshed, I remembered that there was something queer about Llantrisant that I might as well investigate. It was no great thing that I thought to find, for, it will be remembered, I had ruled out the apparent oddity of the reporter’s-or commissioner’s?— reference to lights, on the ground that he must have been referring to some local panic about signalling to the enemy; who had certainly torpedoed22 a ship or two off Lundy in the Bristol Channel. All that I had to go upon was the reference to the “remarkable occurrences” at some revival23, and then that letter of Jackson’s, which spoke24 of Llantrisant church as “reeking” with incense25, a wholly incredible and impossible state of things. Why, old Mr. Evans, the rector, looked upon coloured stoles as the very robe of Satan and his angels, as things dear to the heart of the Pope of Rome. But as to incense! As I have already familiarly observed, I knew better.
But as a hard matter of fact, this may be worth noting: when I went over to Llantrisant on Monday, August 9th, I visited the church, and it was still fragrant26 and exquisite with the odour of rare gums that had fumed27 there.
Now I happened to have a slight acquaintance with the rector. He was a most courteous28 and delightful29 old man, and on my last visit he had come across me in the churchyard, as I was admiring the very fine Celtic cross that stands there. Besides the beauty of the interlaced ornament30 there is an inscription31 in Ogham on one of the edges, concerning which the learned dispute; it is altogether one of the more famous crosses of Celtdom. Mr. Evans, I say, seeing me looking at the cross, came up and began to give me, the stranger, a resume — somewhat of a shaky and uncertain resume, I found afterwards — of the various debates and questions that had arisen as to the exact meaning of the inscription, and I was amused to detect an evident but underlying32 belief of his own: that the supposed Ogham characters were, in fact, due to boys’ mischief33 and weather and the passing of the ages. But then I happened to put a question as to the sort of stone of which the cross was made, and the rector brightened amazingly. He began to talk geology, and, I think, demonstrated that the cross or the material for it must have been brought to Llantrisant from the south-west coast of Ireland. This struck me as interesting, because it was curious evidence of the migrations34 of the Celtic saints, whom the rector, I was delighted to find, looked upon as good Protestants, though shaky on the subject of crosses; and so, with concessions35 on my part, we got on very well. Thus, with all this to the good, I was emboldened36 to call upon him.
I found him altered. Not that he was aged37; indeed, he was rather made young, with a singular brightening upon his face, and something of joy upon it that I had not seen before, that I have seen on very few faces of men. We talked of the war, of course, since that is not to be avoided; of the farming prospects38 of the county; of general things, till I ventured to remark that I had been in the church, and had been surprised, to find it perfumed with incense.
“You have made some alterations39 in the service since I was here last? You use incense now?”
The old man looked at me strangely, and hesitated.
“No,” he said, “there has been no change. I use no incense in the church. I should not venture to do so.”
“But,” I was beginning, “the whole church is as if High Mass had just been sung there, and —”
He cut me short, and there was a certain grave solemnity in his manner that struck me almost with awe40.
“I know you are a railer,” he said, and the phrase coming from this mild old gentleman astonished, me unutterably. “You are a railer and a bitter railer; I have read articles that you have written, and I know your contempt and your hatred41 for those you call Protestants in your derision; though your grandfather, the vicar of Caerleon-on-Usk, called himself Protestant and was proud of it, and your great-grand-uncle Hezekiah, ffeiriad coch yr Castletown— the Red Priest of Castletown — was a great man with the Methodists in his day, and the people flocked by their thousands when he administered the Sacrament. I was born and brought up in Glamorganshire, and old men have wept as they told me of the weeping and contrition42 that there was when the Red Priest broke the Bread and raised the Cup. But you are a railer, and see nothing but the outside and the show. You are not worthy43 of this mystery that has been done here.”
I went out from his presence rebuked44 indeed, and justly rebuked; but rather amazed. It is curiously45 true that the Welsh are still one people, one family almost, in a manner that the English cannot understand, but I had never thought that this old clergyman would have known anything of my ancestry47 or their doings. And as for my articles and such-like, I knew that the country clergy46 sometimes read, but I had fancied my pronouncements sufficiently48 obscure, even in London, much more in Arfon.
But so it happened, and so I had no explanation from the rector of Llantrisant of the strange circumstance, that his church was full of incense and odours of paradise.
I went up and down the ways of Llantrisant wondering, and came to the harbour, which is a little place, with little quays49 where some small coasting trade still lingers. A brigantine was at anchor here, and very lazily in the sunshine they were loading it with anthracite; for it is one of the oddities of Llantrisant that there is a small colliery in the heart of the wood on the hillside. I crossed a causeway which parts the outer harbour from the inner harbour, and settled down on a rocky beach hidden under a leafy hill. The tide was going out, and some children were playing on the wet sand, while two ladies — their mothers, I suppose — talked together as they sat comfortably on their rugs at a little distance from me.
At first they talked of the war, and I made myself deaf, for of that talk one gets enough, and more than enough, in London. Then there was a period of silence, and the conversation had passed to quite a different topic when I caught the thread of it again. I was sitting on the further side of a big rock, and I do not think that the two ladies had noticed my approach. However, though they spoke of strange things, they spoke of nothing which made it necessary for me to announce my presence.
“And, after all,” one of them was saying, “what is it all about? I can’t make out what is come to the people.”
This speaker was a Welshwoman; I recognised the clear, over-emphasised consonants50, and a faint suggestion of an accent. Her friend came from the Midlands, and it turned out that they had only known each other for a few days. Theirs was a friendship of the beach and of bathing; such friendships are common, at small seaside places.
“There is certainly something odd about the people here. I have never been to Llantrisant before, you know; indeed, this is the first time we’ve been in Wales for our holidays, and knowing nothing about the ways of the people and not being accustomed to hear Welsh spoken, I thought, perhaps, it must be my imagination. But you think there really is something a little queer?”
“I can tell you this: that I have been in two minds whether I should not write to my husband and ask him to take me and the children away. You know where I am at Mrs. Morgan’s, and the Morgans’ sitting-room51 is just the other side of the passage, and sometimes they leave the door open, so that I can hear what they say quite plainly. And you see I understand the Welsh, though they don’t know it. And I hear them saying the most alarming things!”
“What sort of things?
“Well, indeed, it sounds like some kind of a religious service, but it’s not Church of England, I know that. Old Morgan begins it, and the wife and children answer. Something like; ‘Blessed be God for the messengers of Paradise.’ ‘Blessed be His Name for Paradise in the meat and in the drink.’ ‘Thanksgiving for the old offering.’ ‘Thanksgiving for the appearance of the old altar,’ ‘Praise for the joy of the ancient garden.’ ‘Praise for the return of those that have been long absent.’ And all that sort of thing. It is nothing but madness.”
“Depend upon it,” said the lady from the Midlands, “there’s no real harm in it. They’re Dissenters52; some new sect53, I dare say. You know some Dissenters are very queer in their ways.”
“All that is like no Dissenters that I have ever known in all my life whatever,” replied the Welsh lady somewhat vehemently54, with a very distinct intonation55 of the land. “And have you heard them speak of the bright light that shone at midnight from the church?”
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1
fragrance
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| n.芬芳，香味，香气 | |
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reigning
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| adj.统治的，起支配作用的 | |
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scorched
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| 烧焦，烤焦( scorch的过去式和过去分词 )； 使（植物）枯萎，把…晒枯； 高速行驶； 枯焦 | |
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hissing
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| n. 发嘶嘶声, 蔑视 动词hiss的现在分词形式 | |
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torment
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| n.折磨；令人痛苦的东西(人)；vt.折磨；纠缠 | |
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dread
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| vt.担忧，忧虑；惧怕，不敢；n.担忧，畏惧 | |
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disquiets
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| n.忧虑( disquiet的名词复数 )；不安；内心不平静；烦恼v.使不安，使忧虑，使烦恼( disquiet的第三人称单数 ) | |
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sapphire
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| n.青玉，蓝宝石；adj.天蓝色的 | |
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amethyst
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| n.紫水晶 | |
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foam
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| v./n.泡沫，起泡沫 | |
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crimson
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| n./adj.深(绯)红色(的)；vi.脸变绯红色 | |
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exquisite
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| adj.精美的；敏锐的；剧烈的，感觉强烈的 | |
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benediction
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| n.祝福；恩赐 | |
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slipper
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| n.拖鞋 | |
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marvel
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| vi.(at)惊叹vt.感到惊异；n.令人惊异的事 | |
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soothed
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| v.安慰( soothe的过去式和过去分词 )；抚慰；使舒服；减轻痛苦 | |
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ineffable
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| adj.无法表达的，不可言喻的 | |
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murmur
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| n.低语，低声的怨言；v.低语，低声而言 | |
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mighty
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| adj.强有力的；巨大的 | |
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caverns
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| 大山洞，大洞穴( cavern的名词复数 ) | |
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smelt
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| v.熔解，熔炼；n.银白鱼，胡瓜鱼 | |
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torpedoed
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| 用鱼雷袭击（torpedo的过去式与过去分词形式） | |
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revival
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| n.复兴，复苏，（精力、活力等的）重振 | |
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spoke
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| n.（车轮的）辐条；轮辐；破坏某人的计划；阻挠某人的行动 v.讲，谈（speak的过去式）；说；演说；从某种观点来说 | |
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incense
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| v.激怒；n.香，焚香时的烟，香气 | |
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fragrant
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| adj.芬香的，馥郁的，愉快的 | |
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fumed
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| 愤怒( fume的过去式和过去分词 )； 大怒； 发怒； 冒烟 | |
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courteous
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| adj.彬彬有礼的，客气的 | |
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delightful
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| adj.令人高兴的，使人快乐的 | |
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ornament
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| v.装饰，美化；n.装饰，装饰物 | |
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inscription
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| n.（尤指石块上的）刻印文字，铭文，碑文 | |
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underlying
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| adj.在下面的，含蓄的，潜在的 | |
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mischief
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| n.损害，伤害，危害；恶作剧，捣蛋，胡闹 | |
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migrations
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| n.迁移，移居( migration的名词复数 ) | |
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concessions
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| n.（尤指由政府或雇主给予的）特许权( concession的名词复数 )；承认；减价；（在某地的）特许经营权 | |
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emboldened
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| v.鼓励，使有胆量( embolden的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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aged
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| adj.年老的，陈年的 | |
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prospects
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| n.希望，前途(恒为复数) | |
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alterations
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| n.改动( alteration的名词复数 )；更改；变化；改变 | |
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40
awe
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| n.敬畏，惊惧；vt.使敬畏，使惊惧 | |
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hatred
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| n.憎恶，憎恨，仇恨 | |
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contrition
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| n.悔罪，痛悔 | |
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worthy
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| adj.(of)值得的，配得上的；有价值的 | |
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44
rebuked
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| 责难或指责( rebuke的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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curiously
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| adv.有求知欲地；好问地；奇特地 | |
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46
clergy
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| n.[总称]牧师，神职人员 | |
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47
ancestry
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| n.祖先，家世 | |
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sufficiently
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| adv.足够地，充分地 | |
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49
quays
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| 码头( quay的名词复数 ) | |
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50
consonants
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| n.辅音，子音( consonant的名词复数 )；辅音字母 | |
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51
sitting-room
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| n.（BrE）客厅，起居室 | |
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52
dissenters
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| n.持异议者，持不同意见者( dissenter的名词复数 ) | |
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sect
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| n.派别，宗教，学派，派系 | |
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vehemently
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| adv. 热烈地 | |
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intonation
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| n.语调，声调；发声 | |
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