— EMERSON.
“OF course, Hester,” said Mr. Gresley, leading the way to his study and speaking in his lesson-for-the-day voice, “I don’t pretend to write”—(“They always say that,” thought Hester)—“I have not sufficient leisure to devote to the subject to ensure becoming a successful author. And even if I had I am afraid I should not be willing to sell my soul to obtain popularity, for that is what it comes to in these days. The public must be pandered1 to. It must be amused. The public likes smooth things, and the great truths — the only things I should care to write about — are not smooth, far from it.”
“No, indeed.”
“This little paper on ‘Dissent2,’ which I propose to publish in pamphlet form after its appearance as a serial3 — it will run to two numbers in the Southminster Advertiser — was merely thrown off in a few days when I had influenza4, and could not attend to my usual work.”
“It must be very difficult to work in illness,” said Hester, who had evidently made a vow5 during her brief sojourn6 in the garden, and was now obviously going through that process which the society of some of our fellow creatures makes as necessary as it is fatiguing7 — namely, that of thinking beforehand what we are going to say.
Mr. Gresley liked Hester immensely when she had freshly ironed herself flat under one of these resolutions. He was wont8 to say that no one was pleasanter than Hester when she was reasonable, or made more suitable remarks. He perceived with joy that she was reasonable now, and the brother and sister sat down close together at the writing-table with the printed sheets between them.
“I will read aloud,” said Mr. Gresley, “and you can follow me, and stop me if you think — er — the sense is not quite clear.”
“I see.”
The two long noses, the larger freckled9 one surmounted10 by a pince-nez, the other slightly pink as if it had absorbed the tint11 of the blotting-paper over which it was so continually poised12, both bent13 over the sheets.
Through the thin wall which separated the schoolroom from the study came the sound of Mary’s scales. Mary was by nature a child of wrath14, as far as music was concerned, and Fraülein — anxious, musical Fraülein — was strenuously15 endeavouring to impart to her pupil the rudiments17 of what was her chief joy in life.
“Modern Dissent,” read aloud Mr. Gresley, “by Veritas.”
“Veritas!“ repeated Hester. Astonishment18 jerked the word out of her before she was aware. She pulled herself hastily together.
“Certainly,” said the author, looking at his sister through his glasses, which made the pupils of his eyes look as large as the striped marbles on which Mary and Regie spent their pennies. “Veritas,” he continued, “is a Latin word signifying Truth.”
“So I fancied. But is not Truth rather a large name to adopt as a nom de guerre? Might it not seem rather — er — in a layman19 it would appear arrogant20.”
“I am not a layman, and I do not pretend to write on subjects of which I am ignorant,” said Mr. Gresley with dignity. “This is not a work of fiction. I don’t imagine this, or fancy that, or invent the other. I merely place before the public forcibly and in a novel manner a few great truths.”
Mary was doing her finger exercises. C C C with the thumb, D D D with the first finger. Fraülein was repeating, “Won! Two! Free! Won! Two! Free!” with a new intonation21 of cheerful patience at each repetition.
“Ah!” said Hester. “A few great truths. Then the name must be Veritas. You would not reconsider it.”
“Certainly not,” said Mr. Gresley, his eye challenging hers. “It is the name I am known by as the author of ‘Schism.’”
“I had momentarily forgotten ‘Schism’,” said Hester dropping her glance.
“I went through a good deal of obloquy22 about ‘Schism,’” said Mr. Gresley with pride, “and I should not wonder if ‘Modern Dissent’ caused quite a ferment23 in Middleshire. If it does I am willing to bear a little spite and ill-will. All history shows that truth is met at first by opposition24. Half the country clergy25 round here are asleep. Good men, but lax. They want waking up. I said as much to the Bishop26 the other day, and he agreed with me, for he said that if some of his younger clergy could be waked up to a sense of their own arrogance27 and narrowness he would hold a public thanksgiving in the cathedral. But he added that he thought nothing short of the last trump28 would do it.”
“I agree with him,” said Hester, having first said the sentence to herself, and having decided29 it was innocuous.
The climax30 of the music lesson had arrived. “The Blue Bells of Scotland”-the sole Klavier Stück which Mary’s rigidly31 extended little starfishes of hands could wrench32 out of the schoolroom piano — was at its third bar.
“Well,” said Mr. Gresley, refreshed by a cheering retrospects33. “Now for ‘Modern Dissent.’”
A strenuous16 hour ensued.
Hester was torn in different directions, at one moment tempted34 to allow the most flagrant passages to pass unchallenged rather than attempt the physical impossibility of interrupting the reader only to be drawn35 into a dispute with him at another burning to save her brother from the consequences which wait on certain utterances36.
Presently Mr. Gresley’s eloquence37, after various tortuous38 and unnatural39 windings40, swept in the direction of a pun, as a carriage after following the artificial curves of a deceptive41 approach nears a villa42. Hester had seen the pun coming for half a page, as we see the villa through the trees long before we are allowed to approach it, and she longed to save her brother from what was in her eyes as much a degradation43 as a tu quoque. But she remembered in time that the Gresleys considered she had no sense of humour, and she decided to let it pass. Mr. Gresley enjoyed it so much himself that he hardly noticed her fixed44 countenance45.
Why does so deep a gulf46 separate those who have a sense of humour and those who, having none, are compensated47 by the conviction that they possess it more abundantly. The crevasse48 seems to extend far inland to the very heights and water-sheds of character. Those who differ on humour will differ on principles. The Gresleys and the Pratts belonged to that large class of our fellow creatures, who, conscious of a genius for adding to the hilarity49 of our sad planet, discover an irresistible50 piquancy51 in putting a woman’s hat on a man’s head, and in that “verbal romping” which playfully designates a whisky and soda52 as a gargle, and says “au reservoir” instead of “au revoir.”
At last, however, Hester nervously53 put her hand over the next sheet, as he read the final words of the last.
“Wait a moment,” she said hurriedly. “This last page, James. Might it not be well to reconsider it? Is it politic54 to assume such great ignorance on the part of Nonconformists? Many I know are better educated than I am.”
“My dear,” said Mr. Gresley, “ignorance is at the root of any difference of opinion on such a subject as this. I do not say wilful55 ignorance, but the want of sound Church teaching. I must cut at the roots of this ignorance.”
“Dear James, it is thrice killing56 the slain57. No one believes these fallacies which you are exposing; the Nonconformists least of all. Those I have talked with don’t hold these absurd opinions that you put down to them. You don’t even touch their real position. You are elaborately knocking down ninepins that have never stood up because they have nothing to stand on.”
“I am not proposing to play a game of mental skittles,” said the clerical author. “It is enough for me, as I said before, to cut at the roots of ignorance wherever I see it flourishing, not to pull off the leaves one by one as you would have me to do by dissecting58 their opinions. This may not be novel, it may not even be amusing, but nevertheless, Hester, a clergyman’s duty is to wage unceasing war against spiritual ignorance. And what,” read on Mr. Gresley, after a triumphant59 moment in which Hester remained silent, “is the best means of coping against ignorance, against darkness”—(“It was a root a moment ago,” thought Hester)—“but by the infusion60 of light? The light shineth in darkness, and the darkness comprehendeth it not.” Half a page more and the darkness was modern Dissent. Hester put her hand over her mouth and kept it there.
The familiar drama of a clerical bull and a red rag was played out before her eyes, and, metaphorically61 speaking, she followed the example of the majority of laymen62, and crept up a tree to be out of the way.
When it was all over she came down trembling.
“Well! what do you think of it?” said Mr. Gresley, rising and pacing up and down the room.
“You hit very hard,” said Hester, after a moment’s consideration. She did not say “You strike home.”
“I have no opinion of being mealy mouthed,” said Mr. Gresley, who was always perfectly63 satisfied with a vague statement. “If you have anything worth saying say it plainly. That is my motto. Don’t hint this or that, but take your stand upon a truth and strike out.”
“Why not hold out our hands to our fellow creatures instead of striking at them?” said Hester, moving towards the door.
“I have no belief in holding out our hands to the enemies of Christ," Mr. Gresley began, who in the course of his pamphlet had thus gracefully64 designated the great religious bodies who did not view Christianity through the convex glasses of his own mental pince-nez. “In these days we see too much of that. I leave that to the Broad Church who want to run with the hare and hunt with the hounds. I, on the contrary —”
But Hester had vanished.
There was a dangerous glint in her grey eyes, as she ran up to her little attic65.
“According to him, our Lord must have been the first Nonconformist,” she said to herself. “If I had stayed a moment longer I should have said so. For once I got out of the room in time.”
Hester’s attic was blisteringly hot. It was over the kitchen, and through the open window came the penetrating66 aroma67 of roast mutton newly wedded68 to boiled cabbage. Hester had learned during the last six months all the variations of smells, evil, subtle, nauseous, and overpowering, of which the preparation of food — and still worse the preparation of chicken food — is capable. She seized her white hat and umbrella and fled out of the house.
She moved quickly across a patch of sunlight, looking, with her large white, pink-lined umbrella, like a travelling mushroom on a slender stem, and only drew rein69 in the shady walk near the beehives, where the old gardener Abel was planting something large in the way of “runners” or “suckers,” making a separate hole for each with his thumb.
Abel was a solid, pear-shaped man, who passed through life bent double over the acre of Vicarage garden, to which he committed long lines of seeds, which an attentive70 Providence71 brought up in due season as “curly kebbidge,” or “salary,” or “sparrow-grass.”
Abel had his back towards Hester, and only the corduroy half of him was visible as he stooped over his work. Occasionally he could be induced to straighten himself, and — holding himself strongly at the hinge, with earth-ingrained hands — to discourse72 on politics and religion, and to opine that our policy in China was “neither my eye nor my elber.” “The little lady,” as he called Hester, had a knack73 of drawing out Abel; but to-day, as he did not see her, she slipped past him, and crossing the churchyard sat down for a moment in the porch to regain74 her breath, under the card of printed texts offered for the consideration of his flock by their young pastor75.
“How dreadful is this place. This is none other but the house of God,” was the culling76 from the Scriptures77 which headed the selection.? Hester knew that card well, though she never by any chance looked at it. She had offended her brother deeply by remonstrating78, or, as he called it, by “interfering in church matters,” when he nailed it up. After a few minutes she dropped over the low churchyard wall into the meadow below, and flung herself down on the grass in the short shadow of a yew79 near at hand. What little air there was to be had came to her across the Drone, together with the sound of the water lazily nudging the bank, and whispering to the reeds little jokelets which they had heard a hundred times before.
? A card, headed by the above text, was seen by the writer in August 1898, in the porch of a country church.
Hester’s irritable80 nerves relaxed. She stretched out her small neatly81 shod foot in front of her, leaned her back against the wall, and presently could afford to smile.
“Dear James,” she said, shaking her head gently to and fro, “I wish we were not both writers, or, as he calls it, ‘dabblers with the pen.’ One dabbler82 in a Vicarage is quite enough.”
She took out her letters and read them. Only half of them had been opened.
“I shall stay here till the luncheon83 bell rings,” she said as she settled herself comfortably.
Rachel’s letter was read last, on the principle of keeping the best to the end.
“And so she is leaving London — isn’t this rather sudden? — and coming down at once — to-day — no, yesterday, to South minster, to the Palace. And I am to stay in this afternoon, as she will come over, and probably the Bishop will come too. I should be glad if I were not so tired.”
Hester looked along the white high road which led to Southminster. In the hot haze84 she could just see the two ears of the cathedral pricking85 up through the blue. Everything was very silent, so silent that she could hear the church clock of Slumberleigh, two miles away, strike twelve. A whole hour before luncheon!
The miller’s old white horse with a dip in his long back and a corresponding curve in his under outline, was standing86 motionless in the sun, fast asleep, his front legs bent like a sailor’s.
A little bunch of red and white cows knee-deep in the water were swishing off the flies with the wet tufts of their tails. Hester watched their every movement. She was no longer afraid of cows. Presently, as if with one consent, they all made up their minds to relieve the tedium87 of the contemplative life by an exhibition of humour, and scrambling88 out of the water proceeded to canter along the bank with stiff raised tails, with an artificial noose89 sustained with difficulty just above the tuft.
“How like James and the Pratts,” hester said to herself, watching the grotesque90 gambols91 and nudgings of the dwindling92 humorists. “It must be very fatiguing to be so comic.”
Hester had been up since five o’clock, utilising the quiet hours before the house was astir. She was tired out. A “bumble bee” was droning sleepily near at hand. The stream talked and talked and talked about what he was going to do when he was a river. “How tired the banks must be of listening to him,” thought Hester with closed eyes.
And the world melted slowly away in a delicious sense of well-being93, from which the next moment, as it seemed to her, she was suddenly awakened94 by Mr. Gresley’s voice near at hand.
“Hester! Hester! HESTER!”
“Here! Here!” gasped95 Hester with a start, upsetting her lapful of letters, as she scrambled96 hastily to her feet.
The young Vicar drew near, and looked over the churchyard wall. A large crumb97 upon his upper lip did not lessen98 the awful severity of his countenance.
“We have nearly finished luncheon,” he observed. “The servants could not find you anywhere. I don’t want to be always finding fault, Hester, but I wish for your own sake as well as ours you would be more punctual at meals.”
Hester had never been late before, but she felt that this was not the moment to remind her brother of that fact.
“I beg pardon,” she said humbly99. “I fell asleep.”
“You fell asleep!” said Mr. Gresley, who had been wrestling all the morning with platitudes100 on Thy will be done. “All I can say, Hester, is that it is unfortunate you have no occupation. I cannot believe it is for the good of any of us to lead so absolutely idle a life that we fall asleep in the morning.”
Hester made no reply.
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1
pandered
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| v.迎合（他人的低级趣味或淫欲）( pander的过去式和过去分词 )；纵容某人；迁就某事物 | |
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dissent
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| n./v.不同意，持异议 | |
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serial
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| n.连本影片，连本电视节目；adj.连续的 | |
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influenza
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| n.流行性感冒，流感 | |
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vow
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| n.誓(言)，誓约；v.起誓，立誓 | |
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sojourn
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| v./n.旅居，寄居；逗留 | |
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fatiguing
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| a.使人劳累的 | |
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wont
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| adj.习惯于；v.习惯；n.习惯 | |
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freckled
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| adj.雀斑；斑点；晒斑；（使）生雀斑v.雀斑，斑点( freckle的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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surmounted
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| 战胜( surmount的过去式和过去分词 )； 克服（困难）； 居于…之上； 在…顶上 | |
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tint
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| n.淡色，浅色；染发剂；vt.着以淡淡的颜色 | |
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poised
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| a.摆好姿势不动的 | |
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bent
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| n.爱好，癖好；adj.弯的；决心的，一心的 | |
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wrath
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| n.愤怒，愤慨，暴怒 | |
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strenuously
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| adv.奋发地，费力地 | |
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strenuous
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| adj.奋发的，使劲的；紧张的；热烈的，狂热的 | |
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rudiments
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| n.基础知识，入门 | |
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astonishment
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| n.惊奇，惊异 | |
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layman
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| n.俗人，门外汉，凡人 | |
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arrogant
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| adj.傲慢的，自大的 | |
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intonation
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| n.语调，声调；发声 | |
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obloquy
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| n.斥责，大骂 | |
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ferment
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| vt.使发酵；n./vt.（使）激动，（使）动乱 | |
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opposition
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| n.反对，敌对 | |
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clergy
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| n.[总称]牧师，神职人员 | |
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bishop
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| n.主教，（国际象棋）象 | |
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arrogance
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| n.傲慢，自大 | |
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trump
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| n.王牌，法宝；v.打出王牌，吹喇叭 | |
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decided
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| adj.决定了的，坚决的；明显的，明确的 | |
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climax
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| n.顶点；高潮；v.(使)达到顶点 | |
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rigidly
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| adv.刻板地，僵化地 | |
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wrench
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| v.猛拧；挣脱；使扭伤；n.扳手；痛苦，难受 | |
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retrospects
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| n.回顾，回想( retrospect的名词复数 )v.回顾，回想( retrospect的第三人称单数 ) | |
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tempted
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| v.怂恿（某人）干不正当的事；冒…的险（tempt的过去分词） | |
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drawn
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| v.拖，拉，拔出；adj.憔悴的，紧张的 | |
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utterances
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| n.发声( utterance的名词复数 )；说话方式；语调；言论 | |
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eloquence
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| n.雄辩；口才，修辞 | |
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tortuous
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| adj.弯弯曲曲的，蜿蜒的 | |
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unnatural
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| adj.不自然的；反常的 | |
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windings
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| （道路、河流等）蜿蜒的，弯曲的( winding的名词复数 )； 缠绕( wind的现在分词 )； 卷绕； 转动（把手） | |
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deceptive
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| adj.骗人的，造成假象的，靠不住的 | |
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villa
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| n.别墅，城郊小屋 | |
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degradation
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| n.降级；低落；退化；陵削；降解；衰变 | |
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fixed
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| adj.固定的，不变的，准备好的；(计算机)固定的 | |
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countenance
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| n.脸色，面容；面部表情；vt.支持，赞同 | |
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46
gulf
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| n.海湾；深渊，鸿沟；分歧，隔阂 | |
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47
compensated
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| 补偿，报酬( compensate的过去式和过去分词 )； 给（某人）赔偿（或赔款） | |
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crevasse
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| n. 裂缝，破口；v.使有裂缝 | |
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49
hilarity
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| n.欢乐；热闹 | |
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50
irresistible
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| adj.非常诱人的，无法拒绝的，无法抗拒的 | |
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51
piquancy
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| n.辛辣，辣味，痛快 | |
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52
soda
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| n.苏打水；汽水 | |
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53
nervously
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| adv.神情激动地，不安地 | |
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54
politic
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| adj.有智虑的；精明的；v.从政 | |
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55
wilful
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| adj.任性的，故意的 | |
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killing
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| n.巨额利润；突然赚大钱，发大财 | |
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57
slain
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| 杀死，宰杀，杀戮( slay的过去分词 )； (slay的过去分词) | |
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58
dissecting
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| v.解剖（动物等）( dissect的现在分词 )；仔细分析或研究 | |
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59
triumphant
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| adj.胜利的，成功的；狂欢的，喜悦的 | |
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60
infusion
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| n.灌输 | |
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metaphorically
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| adv. 用比喻地 | |
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laymen
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| 门外汉，外行人( layman的名词复数 )； 普通教徒（有别于神职人员） | |
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perfectly
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| adv.完美地，无可非议地，彻底地 | |
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64
gracefully
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| ad.大大方方地；优美地 | |
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attic
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| n.顶楼，屋顶室 | |
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66
penetrating
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| adj.（声音）响亮的，尖锐的adj.（气味）刺激的adj.（思想）敏锐的，有洞察力的 | |
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aroma
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| n.香气，芬芳，芳香 | |
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68
wedded
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| adj.正式结婚的；渴望…的，执著于…的v.嫁，娶，（与…）结婚( wed的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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rein
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| n.疆绳，统治，支配；vt.以僵绳控制，统治 | |
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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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providence
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| n.深谋远虑，天道，天意；远见；节约；上帝 | |
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72
discourse
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| n.论文，演说；谈话；话语；vi.讲述，著述 | |
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73
knack
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| n.诀窍，做事情的灵巧的，便利的方法 | |
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74
regain
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| vt.重新获得，收复，恢复 | |
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75
pastor
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| n.牧师，牧人 | |
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76
culling
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| n.选择，大批物品中剔出劣质货v.挑选，剔除( cull的现在分词 ) | |
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77
scriptures
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| 经文，圣典( scripture的名词复数 )； 经典 | |
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78
remonstrating
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| v.抗议( remonstrate的现在分词 )；告诫 | |
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79
yew
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| n.紫杉属树木 | |
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80
irritable
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| adj.急躁的；过敏的；易怒的 | |
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81
neatly
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| adv.整洁地，干净地，灵巧地，熟练地 | |
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82
dabbler
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| n. 戏水者, 业余家, 半玩半认真做的人 | |
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83
luncheon
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| n.午宴，午餐，便宴 | |
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84
haze
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| n.霾，烟雾；懵懂，迷糊；vi.(over)变模糊 | |
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85
pricking
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| 刺，刺痕，刺痛感 | |
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86
standing
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| n.持续，地位；adj.永久的，不动的，直立的，不流动的 | |
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tedium
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| n.单调；烦闷 | |
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88
scrambling
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| v.快速爬行( scramble的现在分词 )；攀登；争夺；（军事飞机）紧急起飞 | |
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noose
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| n.绳套，绞索（刑）；v.用套索捉；使落入圈套；处以绞刑 | |
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grotesque
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| adj.怪诞的，丑陋的；n.怪诞的图案，怪人（物） | |
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gambols
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| v.蹦跳，跳跃，嬉戏( gambol的第三人称单数 ) | |
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dwindling
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| adj.逐渐减少的v.逐渐变少或变小( dwindle的现在分词 ) | |
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well-being
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| n.安康，安乐，幸福 | |
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awakened
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| v.（使）醒( awaken的过去式和过去分词 )；（使）觉醒；弄醒；（使）意识到 | |
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95
gasped
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| v.喘气( gasp的过去式和过去分词 )；喘息；倒抽气；很想要 | |
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scrambled
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| v.快速爬行( scramble的过去式和过去分词 )；攀登；争夺；（军事飞机）紧急起飞 | |
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crumb
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| n.饼屑，面包屑，小量 | |
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98
lessen
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| vt.减少，减轻；缩小 | |
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99
humbly
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| adv. 恭顺地，谦卑地 | |
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100
platitudes
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| n.平常的话，老生常谈，陈词滥调( platitude的名词复数 )；滥套子 | |
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