Sometimes I am rewarded for fretting1 myself so much about present matters by a quite unasked-for pleasant dream. I mean when I am asleep. This dream is as it were a present of an architectural peep-show. I see some beautiful and noble building new made, as it were for the occasion, as clearly as if I were awake; not vaguely2 or absurdly, as often happens in dreams, but with all the detail clear and reasonable. Some Elizabethan house with its scrap3 of earlier fourteenth-century building, and its later degradations4 of Queen Anne and Silly Billy and Victoria, marring but not destroying it, in an old village once a clearing amid the sandy woodlands of Sussex. Or an old and unusually curious church, much churchwardened, and beside it a fragment of fifteenth-century domestic architecture amongst the not unpicturesque lath and plaster of an Essex farm, and looking natural enough among the sleepy elms and the meditative6 hens scratching about in the litter of the farmyard, whose trodden yellow straw comes up to the very jambs of the richly carved Norman doorway7 of the church. Or sometimes ’tis a splendid collegiate church, untouched by restoring parson and architect, standing8 amid an island of shapely trees and flower-beset cottages of thatched grey stone and cob, amidst the narrow stretch of bright green water-meadows that wind between the sweeping9 Wiltshire downs, so well beloved of William Cobbett. Or some new-seen and yet familiar cluster of houses in a grey village of the upper Thames overtopped by the delicate tracery of a fourteenth-century church; or even sometimes the very buildings of the past untouched by the degradation5 of the sordid10 utilitarianism that cares not and knows not of beauty and history: as once, when I was journeying (in a dream of the night) down the well-remembered reaches of the Thames betwixt Streatley and Wallingford, where the foothills of the White Horse fall back from the broad stream, I came upon a clear-seen mediaeval town standing up with roof and tower and spire11 within its walls, grey and ancient, but untouched from the days of its builders of old. All this I have seen in the dreams of the night clearer than I can force myself to see them in dreams of the day. So that it would have been nothing new to me the other night to fall into an architectural dream if that were all, and yet I have to tell of things strange and new that befell me after I had fallen asleep. I had begun my sojourn12 in the Land of Nod by a very confused attempt to conclude that it was all right for me to have an engagement to lecture at Manchester and Mitcham Fair Green at half-past eleven at night on one and the same Sunday, and that I could manage pretty well. And then I had gone on to try to make the best of addressing a large open-air audience in the costume I was really then wearing — to wit, my night-shirt, reinforced for the dream occasion by a pair of braceless trousers. The consciousness of this fact so bothered me, that the earnest faces of my audience — who would NOT notice it, but were clearly preparing terrible anti-Socialist posers for me — began to fade away and my dream grew thin, and I awoke (as I thought) to find myself lying on a strip of wayside waste by an oak copse just outside a country village.
I got up and rubbed my eyes and looked about me, and the landscape seemed unfamiliar13 to me, though it was, as to the lie of the land, an ordinary English low-country, swelling14 into rising ground here and there. The road was narrow, and I was convinced that it was a piece of Roman road from its straightness. Copses were scattered15 over the country, and there were signs of two or three villages and hamlets in sight besides the one near me, between which and me there was some orchard-land, where the early apples were beginning to redden on the trees. Also, just on the other side of the road and the ditch which ran along it, was a small close of about a quarter of an acre, neatly16 hedged with quick, which was nearly full of white poppies, and, as far as I could see for the hedge, had also a good few rose-bushes of the bright-red nearly single kind, which I had heard are the ones from which rose-water used to be distilled17. Otherwise the land was quite unhedged, but all under tillage of various kinds, mostly in small strips. From the other side of a copse not far off rose a tall spire white and brand-new, but at once bold in outline and unaffectedly graceful18 and also distinctly English in character. This, together with the unhedged tillage and a certain unwonted trimness and handiness about the enclosures of the garden and orchards19, puzzled me for a minute or two, as I did not understand, new as the spire was, how it could have been designed by a modern architect; and I was of course used to the hedged tillage and tumbledown bankrupt-looking surroundings of our modern agriculture. So that the garden-like neatness and trimness of everything surprised me. But after a minute or two that surprise left me entirely20; and if what I saw and heard afterwards seems strange to you, remember that it did not seem strange to me at the time, except where now and again I shall tell you of it. Also, once for all, if I were to give you the very words of those who spoke21 to me you would scarcely understand them, although their language was English too, and at the time I could understand them at once.
Well, as I stretched myself and turned my face toward the village, I heard horse-hoofs on the road, and presently a man and horse showed on the other end of the stretch of road and drew near at a swinging trot22 with plenty of clash of metal. The man soon came up to me, but paid me no more heed23 than throwing me a nod. He was clad in armour24 of mingled25 steel and leather, a sword girt to his side, and over his shoulder a long-handled bill-hook.
His armour was fantastic in form and well wrought26; but by this time I was quite used to the strangeness of him, and merely muttered to myself, “He is coming to summon the squire27 to the leet;” so I turned toward the village in good earnest. Nor, again, was I surprised at my own garments, although I might well have been from their unwontedness. I was dressed in a black cloth gown reaching to my ankles, neatly embroidered28 about the collar and cuffs29, with wide sleeves gathered in at the wrists; a hood30 with a sort of bag hanging down from it was on my head, a broad red leather girdle round my waist, on one side of which hung a pouch31 embroidered very prettily32 and a case made of hard leather chased with a hunting scene, which I knew to be a pen and ink case; on the other side a small sheath-knife, only an arm in case of dire33 necessity.
Well, I came into the village, where I did not see (nor by this time expected to see) a single modern building, although many of them were nearly new, notably34 the church, which was large, and quite ravished my heart with its extreme beauty, elegance35, and fitness. The chancel of this was so new that the dust of the stone still lay white on the midsummer grass beneath the carvings36 of the windows. The houses were almost all built of oak frame-work filled with cob or plaster well whitewashed38; though some had their lower stories of rubble-stone, with their windows and doors of well-moulded freestone. There was much curious and inventive carving37 about most of them; and though some were old and much worn, there was the same look of deftness39 and trimness, and even beauty, about every detail in them which I noticed before in the field-work. They were all roofed with oak shingles40, mostly grown as grey as stone; but one was so newly built that its roof was yet pale and yellow. This was a corner house, and the corner post of it had a carved niche41 wherein stood a gaily42 painted figure holding an anchor — St. Clement43 to wit, as the dweller44 in the house was a blacksmith. Half a stone’s throw from the east end of the churchyard wall was a tall cross of stone, new like the church, the head beautifully carved with a crucifix amidst leafage. It stood on a set of wide stone steps, octagonal in shape, where three roads from other villages met and formed a wide open space on which a thousand people or more could stand together with no great crowding.
All this I saw, and also that there was a goodish many people about, women and children, and a few old men at the doors, many of them somewhat gaily clad, and that men were coming into the village street by the other end to that by which I had entered, by twos and threes, most of them carrying what I could see were bows in cases of linen45 yellow with wax or oil; they had quivers at their backs, and most of them a short sword by their left side, and a pouch and knife on the right; they were mostly dressed in red or brightish green or blue cloth jerkins, with a hood on the head generally of another colour. As they came nearer I saw that the cloth of their garments was somewhat coarse, but stout46 and serviceable. I knew, somehow, that they had been shooting at the butts47, and, indeed, I could still hear a noise of men thereabout, and even now and again when the wind set from that quarter the twang of the bowstring and the plump of the shaft48 in the target.
I leaned against the churchyard wall and watched these men, some of whom went straight into their houses and some loitered about still; they were rough-looking fellows, tall and stout, very black some of them, and some red-haired, but most had hair burnt by the sun into the colour of tow; and, indeed, they were all burned and tanned and freckled49 variously. Their arms and buckles50 and belts and the finishings and hems51 of their garments were all what we should now call beautiful, rough as the men were; nor in their speech was any of that drawling snarl52 or thick vulgarity which one is used to hear from labourers in civilisation53; not that they talked like gentlemen either, but full and round and bold, and they were merry and good-tempered enough; I could see that, though I felt shy and timid amongst them.
One of them strode up to me across the road, a man some six feet high, with a short black beard and black eyes and berry-brown skin, with a huge bow in his hand bare of the case, a knife, a pouch, and a short hatchet54, all clattering55 together at his girdle.
“Well, friend,” said he, “thou lookest partly mazed56; what tongue hast thou in thine head?”
“A tongue that can tell rhymes,” said I.
“So I thought,” said he. “Thirstest thou any?”
“Yea, and hunger,” said I.
And therewith my hand went into my purse, and came out again with but a few small and thin silver coins with a cross stamped on each, and three pellets in each corner of the cross. The man grinned.
“Aha!” said he, “is it so? Never heed it, mate. It shall be a song for a supper this fair Sunday evening. But first, whose man art thou?”
“No one’s man,” said I, reddening angrily; “I am my own master.”
He grinned again.
“Nay, that’s not the custom of England, as one time belike it will be. Methinks thou comest from heaven down, and hast had a high place there too.”
He seemed to hesitate a moment, and then leant forward and whispered in my ear: “John the Miller57, that ground small, small, small,” and stopped and winked58 at me, and from between my lips without my mind forming any meaning came the words, “The king’s son of heaven shall pay for all.”
He let his bow fall on to his shoulder, caught my right hand in his and gave it a great grip, while his left hand fell among the gear at his belt, and I could see that he half drew his knife.
“Well, brother,” said he, “stand not here hungry in the highway when there is flesh and bread in the Rose yonder. Come on.”
And with that he drew me along toward what was clearly a tavern59 door, outside which men were sitting on a couple of benches and drinking meditatively60 from curiously61 shaped earthen pots glazed62 green and yellow, some with quaint63 devices on them.
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1
fretting
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| n. 微振磨损 adj. 烦躁的, 焦虑的 | |
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vaguely
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| adv.含糊地，暖昧地 | |
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scrap
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| n.碎片；废料；v.废弃，报废 | |
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degradations
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| 堕落( degradation的名词复数 )； 下降； 陵削； 毁坏 | |
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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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meditative
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| adj.沉思的，冥想的 | |
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doorway
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| n.门口，(喻)入门；门路，途径 | |
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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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sweeping
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| adj.范围广大的，一扫无遗的 | |
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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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spire
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| n.(教堂)尖顶，尖塔，高点 | |
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sojourn
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| v./n.旅居，寄居；逗留 | |
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unfamiliar
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| adj.陌生的，不熟悉的 | |
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swelling
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| n.肿胀 | |
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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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neatly
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| adv.整洁地，干净地，灵巧地，熟练地 | |
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distilled
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| adj.由蒸馏得来的v.蒸馏( distil的过去式和过去分词 )；从…提取精华 | |
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graceful
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| adj.优美的，优雅的；得体的 | |
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orchards
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| （通常指围起来的）果园( orchard的名词复数 ) | |
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entirely
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| ad.全部地，完整地；完全地，彻底地 | |
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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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trot
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| n.疾走，慢跑；n.老太婆；现成译本；(复数）trots:腹泻（与the 连用）；v.小跑，快步走，赶紧 | |
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heed
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| v.注意，留意；n.注意，留心 | |
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armour
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| （=armor）n.盔甲；装甲部队 | |
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mingled
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| 混合，混入( mingle的过去式和过去分词 )； 混进，与…交往[联系] | |
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wrought
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| v.引起；以…原料制作；运转；adj.制造的 | |
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squire
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| n.护卫, 侍从, 乡绅 | |
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embroidered
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| adj．绣花的 | |
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cuffs
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| n.袖口( cuff的名词复数 )v.掌打，拳打( cuff的第三人称单数 ) | |
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hood
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| n.头巾，兜帽，覆盖；v.罩上，以头巾覆盖 | |
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pouch
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| n.小袋，小包，囊状袋；vt.装...入袋中，用袋运输；vi.用袋送信件 | |
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32
prettily
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| adv.优美地；可爱地 | |
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dire
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| adj.可怕的，悲惨的，阴惨的，极端的 | |
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notably
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| adv.值得注意地，显著地，尤其地，特别地 | |
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elegance
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| n.优雅；优美，雅致；精致，巧妙 | |
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carvings
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| n.雕刻( carving的名词复数 )；雕刻术；雕刻品；雕刻物 | |
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carving
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| n.雕刻品，雕花 | |
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38
whitewashed
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| 粉饰，美化，掩饰( whitewash的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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39
deftness
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40
shingles
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| n.带状疱疹；（布满海边的）小圆石( shingle的名词复数 )；屋顶板；木瓦（板）；墙面板 | |
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41
niche
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| n.壁龛；合适的职务(环境、位置等) | |
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gaily
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| adv.欢乐地，高兴地 | |
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clement
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| adj.仁慈的；温和的 | |
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44
dweller
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| n.居住者，住客 | |
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45
linen
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| n.亚麻布，亚麻线，亚麻制品；adj.亚麻布制的，亚麻的 | |
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47
butts
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| 笑柄( butt的名词复数 )； （武器或工具的）粗大的一端； 屁股； 烟蒂 | |
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48
shaft
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| n.(工具的)柄，杆状物 | |
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49
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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50
buckles
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| 搭扣，扣环( buckle的名词复数 ) | |
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51
hems
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| 布的褶边，贴边( hem的名词复数 )； 短促的咳嗽 | |
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52
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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civilisation
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| n.文明，文化，开化，教化 | |
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54
hatchet
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| n.短柄小斧；v.扼杀 | |
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55
clattering
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| 发出咔哒声（clatter的现在分词形式） | |
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56
mazed
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| 迷惘的，困惑的 | |
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miller
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| n.磨坊主 | |
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58
winked
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| v.使眼色( wink的过去式和过去分词 )；递眼色（表示友好或高兴等）；（指光）闪烁；闪亮 | |
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tavern
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| n.小旅馆，客栈；小酒店 | |
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60
meditatively
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| adv.冥想地 | |
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curiously
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| adv.有求知欲地；好问地；奇特地 | |
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glazed
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| adj.光滑的，像玻璃的；上过釉的；呆滞无神的v.装玻璃( glaze的过去式)；上釉于，上光；（目光）变得呆滞无神 | |
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quaint
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| adj.古雅的，离奇有趣的，奇怪的 | |
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