Paul guessed why, of course, and smiled approval with a candour which gave Hyacinth a strange, inexpressible heartache. He already knew that his friend’s view of him was that he was ornamental16 and adapted to the lighter17 kinds of socialistic utility – constituted to show that the revolution was not necessarily brutal18 and illiterate19; but in the light of the cheerful stoicism with which Muniment regarded the sacrifice our hero was committed to, the latter had found it necessary to remodel20 a good deal his original conception of the young chemist’s nature. The result of this process was not that he admired it less but that he felt almost awe-stricken in the presence of it. There had been an element of that sort in his appreciation21 of Muniment from the first, but it had been infinitely22 deepened by the spectacle of his sublime23 consistency24. Hyacinth felt that he himself could never have risen to that point. He was competent to make the promise to Hoffendahl, and he was equally competent to keep it; but he could not have had the same fortitude25 for another, could not have detached himself from personal prejudice so effectually as to put forward, in that way, for the terrible ‘job’, a little chap he liked. That Muniment liked him it never occurred to Hyacinth to doubt, and certainly he had all the manner of it to-day: he had never been more good-humoured, more placidly26 talkative; he was like an elder brother who knew that the ‘youngster’ was clever, and was rather proud of it even when there was no one there to see. That air of suspending their partnership27 for the moment, which had usually marked him at the ‘Sun and Moon’, was never visible in other places; in Audley Court he only chaffed Hyacinth occasionally for taking him too seriously. To-day his young friend hardly knew just how to take him; the episode of which Hoffendahl was the central figure had, as far as one could see, made so little change in his life. As a conspirator28 he was so extraordinarily29 candid30, and bitterness and denunciation so rarely sat on his lips. It was as if he had been ashamed to complain; and indeed, for himself, as the months went on, he had nothing particular to complain of. He had had a rise, at the chemical works, and a plan of getting a larger room for Rosy31 was under serious consideration. On behalf of others he never sounded the pathetic note – he thought that sort of thing unbusiness-like; and the most that he did in the way of expatiation32 on the wrongs of humanity was occasionally to mention certain statistics, certain ‘returns’, in regard to the remuneration of industries, applications for employment and the discharge of hands. In such matters as these he was deeply versed33, and he moved in a dry statistical34 and scientific air in which it cost Hyacinth an effort of respiration35 to accompany him. Simple and kindly36 as he was, and thoughtful of the woes37 of beasts, attentive38 and merciful to small insects, and addicted39 even to kissing dirty babies in Audley Court, he sometimes emitted a short satiric40 gleam which showed that his esteem41 for the poor was small and that if he had no illusions about the people who had got everything into their hands he had as few about those who had egregiously42 failed to do so. He was tremendously reasonable, which was largely why Hyacinth admired him, having a desire to be so himself but finding it terribly difficult.
Muniment’s absence of passion, his fresh-coloured coolness, his easy, exact knowledge, the way he kept himself clean (except for the chemical stains on his hands) in circumstances of foul43 contact, constituted a group of qualities that had always appeared to Hyacinth singularly enviable. Most enviable of all was the force that enabled him to sink personal sentiment where a great public good was to be attempted and yet keep up the form of caring for that minor44 interest. It seemed to Hyacinth that if he had introduced a young fellow to Hoffendahl for his purposes, and Hoffendahl had accepted him on such a recommendation, and everything had been settled, he would have preferred never to look at the young fellow again. That was his weakness, and Muniment carried it off far otherwise. It must be added that he had never made an allusion45 to their visit to Hoffendahl; so that Hyacinth also, out of pride, held his tongue on the subject. If his friend didn’t wish to express any sympathy for him he was not going to beg for it (especially as he didn’t want it) by restless references. It had originally been a surprise to him that Muniment should be willing to countenance46 a possible assassination47; but after all none of his ideas were narrow (Hyacinth had a sense that they ripened48 all the while), and if a pistol-shot would do any good he was not the man to raise pedantic49 objections. It is true that, as regards his quiet acceptance of the predicament in which Hyacinth might be placed by it, our young man had given him the benefit of a certain amount of doubt; it had occurred to him that perhaps Muniment had his own reasons for believing that the summons from Hoffendahl would never really arrive, so that he might only be treating himself to the entertainment of judging of a little bookbinder’s nerve. But in this case, why did he take an interest in the little bookbinder’s going to Paris? That was a thing he would not have cared for if he had held that in fact there was nothing to fear. He despised the sight of idleness, and in spite of the indulgence he had more than once been good enough to express on the subject of Hyacinth’s epicurean tendencies what he would have been most likely to say at present was, ‘Go to Paris? Go to the dickens! Haven’t you been out at grass long enough for one while, didn’t you lark50 enough in the country there with the noble lady, and hadn’t you better take up your tools again before you forget how to handle them?’ Rosy had said something of that sort, in her free, familiar way (whatever her intention, she had been, in effect, only a little less sarcastic51 than old Crookenden): that Mr Robinson was going in for a life of leisure, a life of luxury, like herself; she must congratulate him on having the means and the time. Oh, the time – that was the great thing! She could speak with knowledge, having always enjoyed these advantages herself. And she intimated – or was she mistaken? – that his good fortune emulated52 hers also in the matter of his having a high-born and beneficent friend (such a blessing53, now he had lost dear Miss Pynsent), who covered him with little attentions. Rose Muniment, in short, had been more exasperating54 than ever.
The boulevard became even more brilliant as the evening went on, and Hyacinth wondered whether he had a right to occupy the same table for so many hours. The theatre on the other side discharged its multitude; the crowd thickened on the wide asphalt, on the terrace of the café; gentlemen, accompanied by ladies of whom he knew already how to characterise the type – des femmes très-chic – passed into the portals of Tortoni. The nightly emanation of Paris seemed to rise more richly, to float and hang in the air, to mingle55 with the universal light and the many-voiced sound, to resolve itself into a thousand solicitations and opportunities, addressed however mainly to those in whose pockets the chink of a little loose gold might respond. Hyacinth’s retrospections had not made him drowsy56, but quite the reverse; he grew restless and excited, and a kind of pleasant terror of the place and hour entered into his blood. But it was nearly midnight, and he got up to walk home, taking the line of the boulevard toward the Madeleine. He passed down the Rue Royale, where comparative stillness reigned57; and when he reached the Place de la Concorde, to cross the bridge which faces the Corps58 Législatif, he found himself almost isolated59. He had left the human swarm60 and the obstructed61 pavements behind, and the wide spaces of the splendid square lay quiet under the summer stars. The plash of the great fountains was audible, and he could almost hear the wind-stirred murmur62 of the little wood of the Tuileries on one side, and of the vague expanse of the Champs Elysées on the other. The place itself – the Place Louis Quinze, the Place de la Révolution – had given him a sensible emotion, from the day of his arrival; he had recognised so quickly its tremendously historic character. He had seen, in a rapid vision, the guillotine in the middle, on the site of the inscrutable obelisk63, and the tumbrils, with waiting victims, were stationed round the circle now made majestic64 by the monuments of the cities of France. The great legend of the French Revolution, sanguinary and heroic, was more real to him here than anywhere else; and, strangely, what was most present was not its turpitude65 and horror, but its magnificent energy, the spirit of life that had been in it, not the spirit of death. That shadow was effaced66 by the modern fairness of fountain and statue, the stately perspective and composition; and as he lingered, before crossing the Seine, a sudden sense overtook him, making his heart sink with a kind of desolation – a sense of everything that might hold one to the world, of the sweetness of not dying, the fascination67 of great cities, the charm of travel and discovery, the generosity68 of admiration69. The tears rose to his eyes, as they had done more than once in the past six months, and a question, low but poignant70, broke from his lips, ending in nothing: “How could he – how could he —?” It may be explained that ‘he’ was a reference to Paul Muniment; for Hyacinth had dreamed of the religion of friendship.
Three weeks after this he found himself in Venice, whence he addressed to the Princess Casamassima a letter of which I reproduce the principal passages.
‘This is probably the last time I shall write to you before I return to London. Of course you have been in this place, and you will easily understand why here, especially here, the spirit should move me. Dear Princess, what an enchanted71 city, what ineffable72 impressions, what a revelation of the exquisite73! I have a room in a little campo opposite to a small old church, which has cracked marble slabs74 let into the front; and in the cracks grow little wild delicate flowers, of which I don’t know the name. Over the door of the church hangs an old battered75 leather curtain, polished and tawny76, as thick as a mattress77, and with buttons in it, like a sofa; and it flops78 to and fro, laboriously79, as women and girls, with shawls on their heads and their feet in little wooden shoes which have nothing but toes, pass in and out. In the middle of the campo is a fountain, which looks still older than the church; it has a primitive80, barbaric air, and I have an idea it was put there by the first settlers – those who came to Venice from the mainland, from Aquileia. Observe how much historical information I have already absorbed; it won’t surprise you, however, for you never wondered at anything after you discovered I knew something of Schopenhauer. I assure you, I don’t think of that musty misogynist81 in the least to-day, for I bend a genial82 eye on the women and girls I just spoke11 of, as they glide83, with a small clatter84 and with their old copper85 water-jars, to the fountain. The Venetian girl-face is wonderfully sweet and the effect is charming when its pale, sad oval (they all look under-fed) is framed in the old faded shawl. They also have very fascinating hair, which never has done curling, and they slip along together, in couples or threes, interlinked by the arms and never meeting one’s eye (so that its geniality86 doesn’t matter), dressed in thin, cheap cotton gowns, whose limp folds make the same delightful87 line that everything else in Italy makes. The weather is splendid and I roast – but I like it; apparently88, I was made to be spitted and “done”, and I discover that I have been cold all my life, even when I thought I was warm. I have seen none of the beautiful patricians89 who sat for the great painters – the gorgeous beings whose golden hair was intertwined with pearls; but I am studying Italian in order to talk with the shuffling90, clicking maidens91 who work in the bead-factories – I am determined92 to make one or two of them look at me. When they have filled their old water-pots at the fountain it is jolly to see them perch93 them on their heads and patter away over the polished Venetian stones. It’s a charm to be in a country where the women don’t wear the hideous94 British bonnet95. Even in my own class (excuse the expression – I remember it used to offend you), I have never known a young female, in London, to put her nose out of the door without it; and if you had frequented such young females as much as I have you would have learned of what degradation96 that dreary97 necessity is the source. The floor of my room is composed of little brick tiles, and to freshen the air, in this temperature, one sprinkles it, as you no doubt know, with water. Before long, if I keep on sprinkling, I shall be able to swim about; the green shutters98 are closed, and the place makes a very good tank. Through the chinks the hot light of the campo comes in. I smoke cigarettes, and in the pauses of this composition recline on a faded magenta99 divan100 in the corner. Convenient to my hand, in that attitude, are the works of Leopardi and a second-hand101 dictionary. I am very happy – happier than I have ever been in my life save at Medley102 – and I don’t care for anything but the present hour. It won’t last long, for I am spending all my money. When I have finished this I shall go forth103 and wander about in the splendid Venetian afternoon; and I shall spend the evening in that enchanted square of St Mark’s, which resembles an immense open-air drawing-room, listening to music and feeling the sea-breeze blow in between those two strange old columns, in the piazzetta, which seem to make a portal for it. I can scarcely believe that it’s of myself that I am telling these fine things; I say to myself a dozen times a day that Hyacinth Robinson is not in it – I pinch my leg to see if I’m not dreaming. But a short time hence, when I have resumed the exercise of my profession, in sweet Soho, I shall have proof enough that it has been my very self : I shall know that by the terrible grind I shall feel my work to be.
‘That will mean, no doubt, that I’m deeply demoralised. It won’t be for you, however, in this case, to cast the stone at me; for my demoralisation began from the moment I first approached you. Dear Princess, I may have done you good, but you haven’t done me much. I trust you will understand what I mean by that speech, and not think it flippant or impertinent. I may have helped you to understand and enter into the misery104 of the people (though I protest I don’t know much about it), but you have led my imagination into quite another train. However, I don’t mean to pretend that it’s all your fault if I have lost sight of the sacred cause almost altogether in my recent adventures. It is not that it has not been there to see, for that perhaps is the clearest result of extending one’s horizon – the sense, increasing as we go, that want and toil105 and suffering are the constant lot of the immense majority of the human race. I have found them everywhere, but I haven’t minded them. Excuse the cynical106 confession107. What has struck me is the great achievements of which man has been capable in spite of them – the splendid accumulations of the happier few, to which, doubtless, the miserable108 many have also in their degree contributed. The face of Europe appears to be covered with them, and they have had much the greater part of my attention. They seem to me inestimably precious and beautiful, and I have become conscious, more than ever before, of how little I understand what, in the great rectification109, you and Poupin propose to do with them. Dear Princess, there are things which I shall be sorry to see you touch, even you with your hands divine; and – shall I tell you le fond de ma pensée, as you used to say? – I feel myself capable of fighting for them. You can’t call me a traitor110, for you know the obligation that I recognise. The monuments and treasures of art, the great palaces and properties, the conquests of learning and taste, the general fabric111 of civilisation112 as we know it, based, if you will, upon all the despotisms, the cruelties, the exclusions113, the monopolies and the rapacities of the past, but thanks to which, all the same, the world is less impracticable and life more tolerable – our friend Hoffendahl seems to me to hold them too cheap and to wish to substitute for them something in which I can’t somehow believe as I do in things with which the aspirations114 and the tears of generations have been mixed. You know how extraordinary I think our Hoffendahl (to speak only of him); but if there is one thing that is more clear about him than another it is that he wouldn’t have the least feeling for this incomparable, abominable115 old Venice. He would cut up the ceilings of the Veronese into strips, so that every one might have a little piece. I don’t want every one to have a little piece of anything, and I have a great horror of that kind of invidious jealousy116 which is at the bottom of the idea of a redistribution. You will say that I talk of it at my ease, while, in a delicious capital, I smoke cigarettes on a magenta divan; and I give you leave to scoff117 at me if it turns out that, when I come back to London without a penny in my pocket, I don’t hold the same language. I don’t know what it comes from, but during the last three months there has crept over me a deep mistrust of that same grudging118 attitude – the intolerance of positions and fortunes that are higher and brighter than one’s own; a fear, moreover, that I may, in the past, have been actuated by such motives119, and a devout120 hope that if I am to pass away while I am yet young it may not be with that odious121 stain upon my soul.’
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1
intercourse
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| n.性交；交流，交往，交际 | |
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considerably
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| adv.极大地；相当大地；在很大程度上 | |
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approbation
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| n.称赞；认可 | |
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unanimity
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| n.全体一致，一致同意 | |
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zealous
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| adj.狂热的，热心的 | |
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everlasting
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| adj.永恒的，持久的，无止境的 | |
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grove
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| n.林子，小树林，园林 | |
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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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9
refreshing
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| adj.使精神振作的，使人清爽的，使人喜欢的 | |
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outspoken
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| adj.直言无讳的，坦率的，坦白无隐的 | |
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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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12
bloody
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| adj.非常的的；流血的；残忍的；adv.很；vt.血染 | |
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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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alcoholic
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| adj.（含）酒精的，由酒精引起的；n.酗酒者 | |
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torpor
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| n.迟钝；麻木；（动物的）冬眠 | |
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ornamental
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| adj.装饰的；作装饰用的；n.装饰品；观赏植物 | |
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lighter
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| n.打火机，点火器；驳船；v.用驳船运送；light的比较级 | |
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brutal
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| adj.残忍的，野蛮的，不讲理的 | |
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illiterate
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| adj.文盲的；无知的；n.文盲 | |
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remodel
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| v.改造，改型，改变 | |
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appreciation
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| n.评价；欣赏；感谢；领会，理解；价格上涨 | |
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infinitely
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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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consistency
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| n.一贯性，前后一致，稳定性；(液体的)浓度 | |
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fortitude
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| n.坚忍不拔；刚毅 | |
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placidly
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| adv.平稳地，平静地 | |
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partnership
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| n.合作关系，伙伴关系 | |
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conspirator
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| n.阴谋者，谋叛者 | |
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extraordinarily
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| adv.格外地；极端地 | |
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candid
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| adj.公正的，正直的；坦率的 | |
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rosy
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| adj.美好的，乐观的，玫瑰色的 | |
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expatiation
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| n.详细的说明，详述，铺陈 | |
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versed
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| adj. 精通，熟练 | |
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statistical
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| adj.统计的，统计学的 | |
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respiration
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| n.呼吸作用；一次呼吸；植物光合作用 | |
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kindly
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| adj.和蔼的，温和的，爽快的；adv.温和地，亲切地 | |
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woes
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| 困境( woe的名词复数 )； 悲伤； 我好苦哇； 某人就要倒霉 | |
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attentive
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| adj.注意的，专心的；关心(别人)的，殷勤的 | |
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addicted
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| adj.沉溺于....的，对...上瘾的 | |
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satiric
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| adj.讽刺的，挖苦的 | |
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esteem
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| n.尊敬，尊重；vt.尊重，敬重；把…看作 | |
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egregiously
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| adv.过份地，卓越地 | |
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foul
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| adj.污秽的；邪恶的；v.弄脏；妨害；犯规；n.犯规 | |
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minor
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| adj.较小(少)的，较次要的；n.辅修学科；vi.辅修 | |
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45
allusion
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| n.暗示，间接提示 | |
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46
countenance
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| n.脸色，面容；面部表情；vt.支持，赞同 | |
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assassination
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| n.暗杀；暗杀事件 | |
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48
ripened
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| v.成熟，使熟( ripen的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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pedantic
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| adj.卖弄学问的；迂腐的 | |
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50
lark
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| n.云雀，百灵鸟；n.嬉戏，玩笑；vi.嬉戏 | |
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51
sarcastic
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| adj.讥讽的，讽刺的，嘲弄的 | |
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52
emulated
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| v.与…竞争( emulate的过去式和过去分词 )；努力赶上；计算机程序等仿真；模仿 | |
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53
blessing
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| n.祈神赐福；祷告；祝福，祝愿 | |
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54
exasperating
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| adj. 激怒的 动词exasperate的现在分词形式 | |
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55
mingle
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| vt.使混合，使相混；vi.混合起来；相交往 | |
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56
drowsy
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| adj.昏昏欲睡的，令人发困的 | |
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57
reigned
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| vi.当政，统治（reign的过去式形式） | |
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58
corps
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| n.(通信等兵种的)部队；(同类作的)一组 | |
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isolated
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| adj.与世隔绝的 | |
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swarm
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| n.(昆虫)等一大群；vi.成群飞舞；蜂拥而入 | |
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obstructed
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| 阻塞( obstruct的过去式和过去分词 )； 堵塞； 阻碍； 阻止 | |
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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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obelisk
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| n.方尖塔 | |
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64
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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65
turpitude
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| n.可耻；邪恶 | |
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66
effaced
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| v.擦掉( efface的过去式和过去分词 )；抹去；超越；使黯然失色 | |
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67
fascination
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| n.令人着迷的事物，魅力，迷恋 | |
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68
generosity
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| n.大度，慷慨，慷慨的行为 | |
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69
admiration
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| n.钦佩，赞美，羡慕 | |
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poignant
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| adj.令人痛苦的，辛酸的，惨痛的 | |
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71
enchanted
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| adj. 被施魔法的，陶醉的，入迷的 动词enchant的过去式和过去分词 | |
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72
ineffable
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| adj.无法表达的，不可言喻的 | |
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73
exquisite
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| adj.精美的；敏锐的；剧烈的，感觉强烈的 | |
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74
slabs
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| n.厚板，平板，厚片( slab的名词复数 )；厚胶片 | |
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75
battered
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| adj.磨损的；v.连续猛击；磨损 | |
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76
tawny
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| adj.茶色的，黄褐色的；n.黄褐色 | |
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77
mattress
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| n.床垫，床褥 | |
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78
flops
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| n.失败( flop的名词复数 )v.（指书、戏剧等）彻底失败( flop的第三人称单数 )；（因疲惫而）猛然坐下；（笨拙地、不由自主地或松弛地）移动或落下；砸锅 | |
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79
laboriously
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| adv.艰苦地；费力地；辛勤地；（文体等）佶屈聱牙地 | |
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80
primitive
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| adj.原始的；简单的；n.原(始)人，原始事物 | |
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81
misogynist
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| n.厌恶女人的人 | |
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82
genial
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| adj.亲切的，和蔼的，愉快的，脾气好的 | |
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83
glide
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| n./v.溜，滑行；(时间)消逝 | |
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84
clatter
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| v./n.(使)发出连续而清脆的撞击声 | |
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85
copper
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| n.铜；铜币；铜器；adj.铜(制)的；(紫)铜色的 | |
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86
geniality
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| n.和蔼，诚恳；愉快 | |
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87
delightful
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| adj.令人高兴的，使人快乐的 | |
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88
apparently
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| adv.显然地；表面上，似乎 | |
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89
patricians
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| n.（古罗马的）统治阶层成员( patrician的名词复数 )；贵族，显贵 | |
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90
shuffling
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| adj. 慢慢移动的, 滑移的 动词shuffle的现在分词形式 | |
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91
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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determined
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| adj.坚定的；有决心的 | |
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93
perch
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| n.栖木，高位，杆；v.栖息，就位，位于 | |
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94
hideous
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| adj.丑陋的，可憎的，可怕的，恐怖的 | |
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95
bonnet
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| n.无边女帽；童帽 | |
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96
degradation
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| n.降级；低落；退化；陵削；降解；衰变 | |
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97
dreary
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| adj.令人沮丧的，沉闷的，单调乏味的 | |
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98
shutters
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| 百叶窗( shutter的名词复数 )； （照相机的）快门 | |
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99
magenta
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| n..紫红色（的染料）；adj.紫红色的 | |
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100
divan
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| n.长沙发；（波斯或其他东方诗人的）诗集 | |
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101
second-hand
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| adj.用过的，旧的，二手的 | |
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102
medley
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| n.混合 | |
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103
forth
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| adv.向前；向外，往外 | |
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104
misery
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| n.痛苦，苦恼，苦难；悲惨的境遇，贫苦 | |
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105
toil
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| vi.辛劳工作，艰难地行动；n.苦工，难事 | |
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106
cynical
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| adj.(对人性或动机)怀疑的，不信世道向善的 | |
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107
confession
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| n.自白，供认，承认 | |
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108
miserable
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| adj.悲惨的，痛苦的；可怜的，糟糕的 | |
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109
rectification
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| n. 改正, 改订, 矫正 | |
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110
traitor
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| n.叛徒，卖国贼 | |
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111
fabric
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| n.织物，织品，布；构造，结构，组织 | |
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112
civilisation
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| n.文明，文化，开化，教化 | |
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113
exclusions
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| n.不包括的项目：如接受服务项目是由投保以前已患有的疾病或伤害引致的，保险公司有权拒绝支付。；拒绝( exclusion的名词复数 )；排除；被排斥在外的人（或事物）；排外主义 | |
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114
aspirations
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| 强烈的愿望( aspiration的名词复数 )； 志向； 发送气音； 发 h 音 | |
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115
abominable
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| adj.可厌的，令人憎恶的 | |
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116
jealousy
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| n.妒忌，嫉妒，猜忌 | |
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117
scoff
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| n.嘲笑，笑柄，愚弄；v.嘲笑，嘲弄，愚弄，狼吞虎咽 | |
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118
grudging
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| adj.勉强的，吝啬的 | |
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119
motives
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| n.动机，目的( motive的名词复数 ) | |
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120
devout
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| adj.虔诚的，虔敬的，衷心的 (n.devoutness) | |
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121
odious
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| adj.可憎的，讨厌的 | |
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