"Good-morning, sir," says "mother," with a washed-out smile. "Willyou step this way, please?""Oh, it's hardly worth while my coming up," you say. "What sort ofrooms are they, and how much?""Well," says the landlady3, "if you'll step upstairs I'll show them toyou."So with a protesting murmur4, meant to imply that any waste of timecomplained of hereafter must not be laid to your charge, you follow"mother" upstairs.
At the first landing you run up against a pail and a broom, whereupon"mother" expatiates5 upon the unreliability of servant-girls, and bawlsover the balusters for Sarah to come and take them away at once. Whenyou get outside the rooms she pauses, with her hand upon the door, toexplain to you that they are rather untidy just at present, as thelast lodger6 left only yesterday; and she also adds that this is theircleaning-day--it always is. With this understanding you enter, andboth stand solemnly feasting your eyes upon the scene before you. Therooms cannot be said to appear inviting7. Even "mother's" face betraysno admiration8. Untenanted "furnished apartments" viewed in themorning sunlight do not inspire cheery sensations. There is alifeless air about them. It is a very different thing when you havesettled down and are living in them. With your old familiar householdgods to greet your gaze whenever you glance up, and all your littleknick-knacks spread around you--with the photos of all the girls thatyou have loved and lost ranged upon the mantel-piece, and half a dozendisreputable-looking pipes scattered9 about in painfully prominentpositions--with one carpet slipper10 peeping from beneath the coal-boxand the other perched on the top of the piano--with the well-knownpictures to hide the dingy11 walls, and these dear old friends, yourbooks, higgledy-piggledy all over the place--with the bits of old bluechina that your mother prized, and the screen she worked in those farby-gone days, when the sweet old face was laughing and young, and thewhite soft hair tumbled in gold-brown curls from under thecoal-scuttle bonnet--Ah, old screen, what a gorgeous personage you must have been in youryoung days, when the tulips and roses and lilies (all growing from onestem) were fresh in their glistening12 sheen! Many a summer and winterhave come and gone since then, my friend, and you have played with thedancing firelight until you have grown sad and gray. Your brilliantcolors are fast fading now, and the envious13 moths14 have gnawed15 yoursilken threads. You are withering17 away like the dead hands that woveyou. Do you ever think of those dead hands? You seem so grave andthoughtful sometimes that I almost think you do. Come, you and I andthe deep-glowing embers, let us talk together. Tell me in your silentlanguage what you remember of those young days, when you lay on mylittle mother's lap and her girlish fingers played with your rainbowtresses. Was there never a lad near sometimes--never a lad who wouldseize one of those little hands to smother18 it with kisses, and whowould persist in holding it, thereby19 sadly interfering20 with theprogress of your making? Was not your frail21 existence often put injeopardy by this same clumsy, headstrong lad, who would toss youdisrespectfully aside that he--not satisfied with one--might hold bothhands and gaze up into the loved eyes? I can see that lad now throughthe haze22 of the flickering23 twilight24. He is an eager bright-eyed boy,with pinching, dandy shoes and tight-fitting smalls, snowy shirt frilland stock, and--oh! such curly hair. A wild, light-hearted boy! Canhe be the great, grave gentleman upon whose stick I used to ridecrosslegged, the care-worn man into whose thoughtful face I used togaze with childish reverence25 and whom I used to call "father?" Yousay "yes," old screen; but are you quite sure? It is a serious chargeyou are bringing. Can it be possible? Did he have to kneel down inthose wonderful smalls and pick you up and rearrange you before he wasforgiven and his curly head smoothed by my mother's little hand? Ah!
old screen, and did the lads and the lassies go making love fiftyyears ago just as they do now? Are men and women so unchanged? Didlittle maidens26' hearts beat the same under pearl-embroidered bodicesas they do under Mother Hubbard cloaks? Have steel casques andchimney-pot hats made no difference to the brains that work beneaththem? Oh, Time! great Chronos! and is this your power? Have youdried up seas and leveled mountains and left the tiny humanheart-strings to defy you? Ah, yes! they were spun27 by a Mightier28 thanthou, and they stretch beyond your narrow ken16, for their ends are madefast in eternity29. Ay, you may mow30 down the leaves and the blossoms,but the roots of life lie too deep for your sickle31 to sever32. Yourefashion Nature's garments, but you cannot vary by a jot33 thethrobbings of her pulse. The world rolls round obedient to your laws,but the heart of man is not of your kingdom, for in its birthplace "athousand years are but as yesterday."I am getting away, though, I fear, from my "furnished apartments," andI hardly know how to get back. But I have some excuse for mymeanderings this time. It is a piece of old furniture that has led meastray, and fancies gather, somehow, round old furniture, like mossaround old stones. One's chairs and tables get to be almost part ofone's life and to seem like quiet friends. What strange tales thewooden-headed old fellows could tell did they but choose to speak! Atwhat unsuspected comedies and tragedies have they not assisted! Whatbitter tears have been sobbed34 into that old sofa cushion! Whatpassionate whisperings the settee must have overheard!
New furniture has no charms for me compared with old. It is the oldthings that we love--the old faces, the old books, the old jokes. Newfurniture can make a palace, but it takes old furniture to make ahome. Not merely old in itself--lodging-house furniture generally isthat--but it must be old to us, old in associations and recollections.
The furniture of furnished apartments, however ancient it may be inreality, is new to our eyes, and we feel as though we could never geton with it. As, too, in the case of all fresh acquaintances, whetherwooden or human (and there is very little difference between the twospecies sometimes), everything impresses you with its worst aspect.
The knobby wood-work and shiny horse-hair covering of the easy-chairsuggest anything but ease. The mirror is smoky. The curtains wantwashing. The carpet is frayed35. The table looks as if it would goover the instant anything was rested on it. The grate is cheerless,the wall-paper hideous36. The ceiling appears to have had coffee spiltall over it, and the ornaments37--well, they are worse than thewallpaper.
There must surely be some special and secret manufactory for theproduction of lodging-house ornaments. Precisely38 the same articlesare to be found at every lodging-house all over the kingdom, and theyare never seen anywhere else. There are the two--what do you callthem? they stand one at each end of the mantel-piece, where they arenever safe, and they are hung round with long triangular39 slips ofglass that clank against one another and make you nervous. In thecommoner class of rooms these works of art are supplemented by acouple of pieces of china which might each be meant to represent a cowsitting upon its hind40 legs, or a model of the temple of Diana atEphesus, or a dog, or anything else you like to fancy. Somewhereabout the room you come across a bilious-looking object, which atfirst you take to be a lump of dough41 left about by one of thechildren, but which on scrutiny42 seems to resemble an underdone cupid.
This thing the landlady calls a statue. Then there is a "sampler"worked by some idiot related to the family, a picture of the"Huguenots," two or three Scripture43 texts, and a highly framed andglazed certificate to the effect that the father has been vaccinated,or is an Odd Fellow, or something of that sort.
You examine these various attractions and then dismally44 ask what therent is.
"That's rather a good deal," you say on hearing the figure.
"Well, to tell you the truth," answers the landlady with a suddenburst of candor45, "I've always had" (mentioning a sum a good deal inexcess of the first-named amount), "and before that I used to have" (astill higher figure).
What the rent of apartments must have been twenty years ago makes oneshudder to think of. Every landlady makes you feel thoroughly46 ashamedof yourself by informing you, whenever the subject crops up, that sheused to get twice as much for her rooms as you are paying. Young menlodgers of the last generation must have been of a wealthier classthan they are now, or they must have ruined themselves. I should havehad to live in an attic47.
Curious, that in lodgings48 the rule of life is reversed. The higheryou get up in the world the lower you come down in your lodgings. Onthe lodging-house ladder the poor man is at the top, the rich manunderneath. You start in the attic and work your way down to thefirst floor.
A good many great men have lived in attics49 and some have died there.
Attics, says the dictionary, are "places where lumber50 is stored," andthe world has used them to store a good deal of its lumber in at onetime or another. Its preachers and painters and poets, itsdeep-browed men who will find out things, its fire-eyed men who willtell truths that no one wants to hear--these are the lumber that theworld hides away in its attics. Haydn grew up in an attic andChatterton starved in one. Addison and Goldsmith wrote in garrets.
Faraday and De Quincey knew them well. Dr. Johnson camped cheerfullyin them, sleeping soundly--too soundly sometimes--upon theirtrundle-beds, like the sturdy old soldier of fortune that he was,inured to hardship and all careless of himself. Dickens spent hisyouth among them, Morland his old age--alas! a drunken, premature51 oldage. Hans Andersen, the fairy king, dreamed his sweet fancies beneaththeir sloping roofs. Poor, wayward-hearted Collins leaned his headupon their crazy tables; priggish Benjamin Franklin; Savage52, thewrong-headed, much troubled when he could afford any softer bed than adoorstep; young Bloomfield, "Bobby" Burns, Hogarth, Watts53 theengineer--the roll is endless. Ever since the habitations of men werereared two stories high has the garret been the nursery of genius.
No one who honors the aristocracy of mind can feel ashamed ofacquaintanceship with them. Their damp-stained walls are sacred tothe memory of noble names. If all the wisdom of the world and all itsart--all the spoils that it has won from nature, all the fire that ithas snatched from heaven--were gathered together and divided intoheaps, and we could point and say, for instance, these mighty54 truthswere flashed forth55 in the brilliant _salon_ amid the ripple56 of lightlaughter and the sparkle of bright eyes; and this deep knowledge wasdug up in the quiet study, where the bust57 of Pallas looks serenelydown on the leather-scented shelves; and this heap belongs to thecrowded street; and that to the daisied field--the heap that wouldtower up high above the rest as a mountain above hills would be theone at which we should look up and say: this noblest pile ofall--these glorious paintings and this wondrous58 music, these trumpetwords, these solemn thoughts, these daring deeds, they were forged andfashioned amid misery59 and pain in the sordid60 squalor of the citygarret. There, from their eyries, while the world heaved and throbbedbelow, the kings of men sent forth their eagle thoughts to wing theirflight through the ages. There, where the sunlight streaming throughthe broken panes61 fell on rotting boards and crumbling62 walls; there,from their lofty thrones, those rag-clothed Joves have hurled63 theirthunderbolts and shaken, before now, the earth to its foundations.
Huddle64 them up in your lumber-rooms, oh, world! Shut them fast in andturn the key of poverty upon them. Weld close the bars, and let themfret their hero lives away within the narrow cage. Leave them thereto starve, and rot, and die. Laugh at the frenzied66 beatings of theirhands against the door. Roll onward67 in your dust and noise and passthem by, forgotten.
But take care lest they turn and sting you. All do not, like thefabled phoenix68, warble sweet melodies in their agony; sometimes theyspit venom--venom you must breathe whether you will or no, for youcannot seal their mouths, though you may fetter69 their limbs. You canlock the door upon them, but they burst open their shaky lattices andcall out over the house-tops so that men cannot but hear. You houndedwild Rousseau into the meanest garret of the Rue70 St. Jacques andjeered at his angry shrieks71. But the thin, piping tones swelled72 ahundred years later into the sullen73 roar of the French Revolution, andcivilization to this day is quivering to the reverberations of hisvoice.
As for myself, however, I like an attic. Not to live in: asresidences they are inconvenient74. There is too much getting up anddown stairs connected with them to please me. It puts oneunpleasantly in mind of the tread-mill. The form of the ceilingoffers too many facilities for bumping your head and too few forshaving. And the note of the tomcat as he sings to his love in thestilly night outside on the tiles becomes positively75 distasteful whenheard so near.
No, for living in give me a suit of rooms on the first floor of aPiccadilly mansion76 (I wish somebody would!); but for thinking in letme have an attic up ten flights of stairs in the densest77 quarter ofthe city. I have all Herr Teufelsdrockh's affection for attics.
There is a sublimity78 about their loftiness. I love to "sit at easeand look down upon the wasps79' nest beneath;" to listen to the dullmurmur of the human tide ebbing80 and flowing ceaselessly through thenarrow streets and lanes below. How small men seem, how like a swarmof ants sweltering in endless confusion on their tiny hill! How pettyseems the work on which they are hurrying and skurrying! Howchildishly they jostle against one another and turn to snarl81 andscratch! They jabber82 and screech83 and curse, but their puny84 voices donot reach up here. They fret65, and fume85, and rage, and pant, and die;"but I, mein Werther, sit above it all; I am alone with the stars."The most extraordinary attic I ever came across was one a friend and Ionce shared many years ago. Of all eccentrically planned things, fromBradshaw to the maze86 at Hampton Court, that room was the mosteccentric. The architect who designed it must have been a genius,though I cannot help thinking that his talents would have been betteremployed in contriving87 puzzles than in shaping human habitations. Nofigure in Euclid could give any idea of that apartment. It containedseven corners, two of the walls sloped to a point, and the window wasjust over the fireplace. The only possible position for the bedsteadwas between the door and the cupboard. To get anything out of thecupboard we had to scramble88 over the bed, and a large percentage ofthe various commodities thus obtained was absorbed by the bedclothes.
Indeed, so many things were spilled and dropped upon the bed thattoward night-time it had become a sort of small cooperative store.
Coal was what it always had most in stock. We used to keep our coalin the bottom part of the cupboard, and when any was wanted we had toclimb over the bed, fill a shovelful89, and then crawl back. It was anexciting moment when we reached the middle of the bed. We would holdour breath, fix our eyes upon the shovel90, and poise91 ourselves for thelast move. The next instant we, and the coals, and the shovel, andthe bed would be all mixed up together.
I've heard of the people going into raptures92 over beds of coal. Weslept in one every night and were not in the least stuck up about it.
But our attic, unique though it was, had by no means exhausted93 thearchitect's sense of humor. The arrangement of the whole house was amarvel of originality94. All the doors opened outward, so that if anyone wanted to leave a room at the same moment that you were comingdownstairs it was unpleasant for you. There was no ground-floor--itsground-floor belonged to a house in the next court, and the front dooropened direct upon a flight of stairs leading down to the cellar.
Visitors on entering the house would suddenly shoot past the personwho had answered the door to them and disappear down these stairs.
Those of a nervous temperament95 used to imagine that it was a trap laidfor them, and would shout murder as they lay on their backs at thebottom till somebody came and picked them up.
It is a long time ago now that I last saw the inside of an attic. Ihave tried various floors since but I have not found that they havemade much difference to me. Life tastes much the same, whether wequaff it from a golden goblet96 or drink it out of a stone mug. Thehours come laden97 with the same mixture of joy and sorrow, no matterwhere we wait for them. A waistcoat of broadcloth or of fustian98 isalike to an aching heart, and we laugh no merrier on velvet99 cushionsthan we did on wooden chairs. Often have I sighed in thoselow-ceilinged rooms, yet disappointments have come neither less norlighter since I quitted them. Life works upon a compensating100 balance,and the happiness we gain in one direction we lose in another. As ourmeans increase, so do our desires; and we ever stand midway betweenthe two. When we reside in an attic we enjoy a supper of fried fishand stout101. When we occupy the first floor it takes an elaboratedinner at the Continental102 to give us the same amount of satisfaction.
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1
untying
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| untie的现在分词 | |
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apron
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| n.围裙；工作裙 | |
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landlady
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| n.女房东，女地主 | |
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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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expatiates
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| v.详述，细说( expatiate的第三人称单数 ) | |
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lodger
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| n.寄宿人，房客 | |
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inviting
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| adj.诱人的，引人注目的 | |
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admiration
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| n.钦佩，赞美，羡慕 | |
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scattered
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| adj.分散的，稀疏的；散步的；疏疏落落的 | |
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slipper
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| n.拖鞋 | |
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dingy
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| adj.昏暗的，肮脏的 | |
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glistening
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| adj.闪耀的，反光的v.湿物闪耀，闪亮( glisten的现在分词 ) | |
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envious
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| adj.嫉妒的，羡慕的 | |
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moths
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| n.蛾( moth的名词复数 ) | |
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gnawed
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| 咬( gnaw的过去式和过去分词 )； （长时间） 折磨某人； （使）苦恼； （长时间）危害某事物 | |
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ken
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| n.视野，知识领域 | |
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withering
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| 使人畏缩的，使人害羞的，使人难堪的 | |
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smother
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| vt./vi.使窒息；抑制；闷死；n.浓烟；窒息 | |
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thereby
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interfering
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| adj. 妨碍的 动词interfere的现在分词 | |
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frail
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| adj.身体虚弱的；易损坏的 | |
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haze
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| n.霾，烟雾；懵懂，迷糊；vi.(over)变模糊 | |
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flickering
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| adj.闪烁的，摇曳的，一闪一闪的 | |
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twilight
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| n.暮光，黄昏；暮年，晚期，衰落时期 | |
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reverence
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| n.敬畏，尊敬，尊严；Reverence:对某些基督教神职人员的尊称；v.尊敬，敬畏，崇敬 | |
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maidens
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| 处女( maiden的名词复数 )； 少女； 未婚女子； （板球运动）未得分的一轮投球 | |
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spun
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| v.纺，杜撰，急转身 | |
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mightier
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| adj. 强有力的，强大的，巨大的 adv. 很，极其 | |
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eternity
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| n.不朽，来世；永恒，无穷 | |
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mow
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| v.割（草、麦等），扫射，皱眉；n.草堆，谷物堆 | |
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sickle
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| n.镰刀 | |
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sever
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| v.切开，割开；断绝，中断 | |
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jot
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| n.少量；vi.草草记下；vt.匆匆写下 | |
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sobbed
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| 哭泣，啜泣( sob的过去式和过去分词 )； 哭诉，呜咽地说 | |
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frayed
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| adj.磨损的v.（使布、绳等）磨损，磨破( fray的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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hideous
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| adj.丑陋的，可憎的，可怕的，恐怖的 | |
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ornaments
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| n.装饰( ornament的名词复数 )；点缀；装饰品；首饰v.装饰，点缀，美化( ornament的第三人称单数 ) | |
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precisely
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| adv.恰好，正好，精确地，细致地 | |
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triangular
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| adj.三角（形）的，三者间的 | |
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hind
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| adj.后面的，后部的 | |
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dough
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| n.生面团；钱，现款 | |
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scrutiny
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| n.详细检查，仔细观察 | |
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scripture
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| n.经文，圣书，手稿；Scripture:(常用复数)《圣经》，《圣经》中的一段 | |
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dismally
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| adv.阴暗地，沉闷地 | |
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candor
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| n.坦白，率真 | |
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thoroughly
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| adv.完全地，彻底地，十足地 | |
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attic
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| n.顶楼，屋顶室 | |
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lodgings
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| n. 出租的房舍, 寄宿舍 | |
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attics
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| n. 阁楼 | |
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lumber
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| n.木材，木料；v.以破旧东西堆满；伐木；笨重移动 | |
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premature
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| adj.比预期时间早的；不成熟的，仓促的 | |
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savage
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| adj.野蛮的；凶恶的，残暴的；n.未开化的人 | |
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watts
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| （电力计量单位）瓦，瓦特( watt的名词复数 ) | |
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mighty
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| adj.强有力的；巨大的 | |
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forth
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| adv.向前；向外，往外 | |
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ripple
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| n.涟波，涟漪，波纹，粗钢梳；vt.使...起涟漪，使起波纹； vi.呈波浪状，起伏前进 | |
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bust
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| vt.打破；vi.爆裂；n.半身像；胸部 | |
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wondrous
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| adj.令人惊奇的，奇妙的；adv.惊人地；异乎寻常地；令人惊叹地 | |
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misery
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| n.痛苦，苦恼，苦难；悲惨的境遇，贫苦 | |
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sordid
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| adj.肮脏的，不干净的，卑鄙的，暗淡的 | |
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61
panes
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| 窗玻璃( pane的名词复数 ) | |
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crumbling
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| adj.摇摇欲坠的 | |
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hurled
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| v.猛投，用力掷( hurl的过去式和过去分词 )；大声叫骂 | |
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huddle
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| vi.挤作一团；蜷缩；vt.聚集；n.挤在一起的人 | |
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fret
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| v.(使)烦恼；(使)焦急；(使)腐蚀，(使)磨损 | |
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frenzied
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| a.激怒的；疯狂的 | |
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onward
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| adj.向前的，前进的；adv.向前，前进，在先 | |
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phoenix
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| n.凤凰，长生(不死)鸟；引申为重生 | |
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fetter
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| n./vt.脚镣，束缚 | |
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rue
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| n.懊悔，芸香，后悔；v.后悔，悲伤，懊悔 | |
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71
shrieks
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| n.尖叫声( shriek的名词复数 )v.尖叫( shriek的第三人称单数 ) | |
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swelled
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| 增强( swell的过去式和过去分词 )； 肿胀； （使）凸出； 充满（激情） | |
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sullen
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| adj.愠怒的，闷闷不乐的，(天气等)阴沉的 | |
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inconvenient
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| adj.不方便的，令人感到麻烦的 | |
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positively
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| adv.明确地，断然，坚决地；实在，确实 | |
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mansion
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| n.大厦，大楼；宅第 | |
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densest
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| 密集的( dense的最高级 )； 密度大的； 愚笨的； （信息量大得）难理解的 | |
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sublimity
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| 崇高，庄严，气质高尚 | |
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wasps
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| 黄蜂( wasp的名词复数 )； 胡蜂； 易动怒的人； 刻毒的人 | |
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ebbing
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| （指潮水）退( ebb的现在分词 )； 落； 减少； 衰落 | |
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snarl
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| v.吼叫，怒骂，纠缠，混乱；n.混乱，缠结，咆哮 | |
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jabber
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| v.快而不清楚地说；n.吱吱喳喳 | |
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screech
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| n./v.尖叫；(发出)刺耳的声音 | |
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puny
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| adj.微不足道的，弱小的 | |
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fume
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| n.(usu pl.)(浓烈或难闻的)烟，气，汽 | |
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maze
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| n.迷宫，八阵图，混乱，迷惑 | |
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contriving
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| （不顾困难地）促成某事( contrive的现在分词 )； 巧妙地策划，精巧地制造（如机器）； 设法做到 | |
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scramble
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| v.爬行，攀爬，杂乱蔓延，碎片，片段，废料 | |
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shovelful
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| n．一铁铲 | |
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shovel
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| n.铁锨，铲子，一铲之量；v.铲，铲出 | |
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poise
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| vt./vi. 平衡，保持平衡；n.泰然自若，自信 | |
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raptures
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| 极度欢喜( rapture的名词复数 ) | |
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exhausted
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| adj.极其疲惫的，精疲力尽的 | |
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originality
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| n.创造力，独创性；新颖 | |
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temperament
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| n.气质，性格，性情 | |
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goblet
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| n.高脚酒杯 | |
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laden
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| adj.装满了的；充满了的；负了重担的；苦恼的 | |
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fustian
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| n.浮夸的；厚粗棉布 | |
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99
velvet
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| n.丝绒，天鹅绒；adj.丝绒制的，柔软的 | |
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compensating
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| 补偿，补助，修正 | |
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102
continental
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| adj.大陆的，大陆性的，欧洲大陆的 | |
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