The Procession
In one of those corners of our land canopied1 by the fumes2 of blind industry, there was, on that day, a lull3 in darkness. A fresh wind had split the customary heaven, or roof of hell; was sweeping4 long drifts of creamy clouds across a blue still pallid5 with reek6. The sun even shone — a sun whose face seemed white and wondering. And under that rare sun all the little town, among its slag7 heaps and few tall chimneys, had an air of living faster. In those continuous courts and alleys8, where the women worked, smoke from each little forge rose and dispersed10 into the wind with strange alacrity11; amongst the women, too, there was that same eagerness, for the sunshine had crept in and was making pale all those dark-raftered, sooted12 ceilings which covered them in, together with their immortal13 comrades, the small open furnaces. About their work they had been busy since seven o’clock; their feet pressing the leather lungs which fanned the conical heaps of glowing fuel, their hands poking14 into the glow a thin iron rod till the end could be curved into a fiery15 hook; snapping it with a mallet16; threading it with tongs17 on to the chain; hammering, closing the link; and; without a second’s pause, thrusting the iron rod again into the glow. And while they worked they chattered18, laughed sometimes, now and then sighed. They seemed of all ages and all types; from her who looked like a peasant of Provence, broad, brown, and strong, to the weariest white consumptive wisp; from old women of seventy, with straggling grey hair, to fifteen-year-old girls. In the cottage forges there would be but one worker, or two at most; in the shop forges four, or even five, little glowing heaps; four or five of the grimy, pale lung-bellows; and never a moment without a fiery hook about to take its place on the growing chains, never a second when the thin smoke of the forges, and of those lives consuming slowly in front of them, did not escape from out of the dingy19, whitewashed20 spaces past the dark rafters, away to freedom.
But there had been in the air that morning something more than the white sunlight. There had been anticipation21. And at two o’clock began fulfilment. The forges were stilled, and from court and alley9 forth22 came the women. In their ragged23 working clothes, in their best clothes — so little different; in bonnets24, in hats, bareheaded; with babies born and unborn, they swarmed25 into the high street and formed across it behind the band. A strange, magpie26, jay-like flock; black, white, patched with brown and green and blue, shifting, chattering27, laughing, seeming unconscious of any purpose. A thousand and more of them, with faces twisted and scored by those myriad28 deformings which a desperate town-toiling and little food fasten on human visages; yet with hardly a single evil or brutal29 face. Seemingly it was not easy to be evil or brutal on a wage that scarcely bound soul and body. A thousand and more of the poorest-paid and hardest-worked human beings in the world.
On the pavement alongside this strange, acquiescing30 assembly of revolt, about to march in protest against the conditions of their lives, stood a young woman without a hat and in poor clothes, but with a sort of beauty in her rough-haired, high cheek-boned, dark-eyed face. She was not one of them; yet, by a stroke of Nature’s irony31, there was graven on her face alone of all those faces, the true look of rebellion; a haughty32, almost fierce, uneasy look — an untamed look. On all the other thousand faces one could see no bitterness, no fierceness, not even enthusiasm; only a half-stolid, half-vivacious patience and eagerness as of children going to a party.
The band played; and they began to march.
Laughing, talking, waving flags, trying to keep step; with the same expression slowly but surely coming over every face; the future was not; only the present — this happy present of marching behind the discordance33 of a brass34 band; this strange present of crowded movement and laughter in open air.
We others — some dozen accidentals like myself, and the tall, grey-haired lady interested in “the people,” together with those few kind spirits in charge of “the show”— marched too, a little self-conscious, desiring with a vague military sensation to hold our heads up, but not too much, under the eyes of the curious bystanders. These — nearly all men — were well-wishers, it was said, though their faces, pale from their own work in shop or furnace, expressed nothing but apathy35. They wished well, very dumbly, in the presence of this new thing, as if they found it queer that women should be doing something for themselves; queer and rather dangerous. A few, indeed, shuffled36 along between the column and the little hopeless shops and grimy factory sheds, and one or two accompanied their women, carrying the baby. Now and then there passed us some better-to-do citizen-a housewife, or lawyer’s clerk, or ironmonger, with lips pressed rather tightly together and an air of taking no notice of this disturbance37 of traffic, as though the whole thing were a rather poor joke which they had already heard too often.
So, with laughter and a continual crack of voices our jay-like crew swung on, swaying and thumping38 in the strange ecstasy39 of irreflection, happy to be moving they knew not where, nor greatly why, under the visiting sun, to the sound of murdered music. Whenever the band stopped playing, discipline became as tatterdemalion as the very flags and garments; but never once did they lose that look of essential order, as if indeed they knew that, being the worst-served creatures in the Christian40 world, they were the chief guardians41 of the inherent dignity of man.
Hatless, in the very front row, marched a tall slip of a girl, arrow-straight, and so thin, with dirty fair hair, in a blouse and skirt gaping42 behind, ever turning her pretty face on its pretty slim neck from side to side, so that one could see her blue eyes sweeping here, there, everywhere, with a sort of flower-like wildness, as if a secret embracing of each moment forbade her to let them rest on anything and break this pleasure of just marching. It seemed that in the never-still eyes of that anaemic, happy girl the spirit of our march had elected to enshrine itself and to make thence its little excursions to each ecstatic follower43. Just behind her marched a little old woman — a maker44 of chains, they said, for forty years — whose black slits45 of eyes were sparkling, who fluttered a bit of ribbon, and reeled with her sense of the exquisite46 humour of the world. Every now and then she would make a rush at one of her leaders to demonstrate how immoderately glorious was life. And each time she spoke47 the woman next to her, laden48 with a heavy baby, went off into squeals49 of laughter. Behind her, again, marched one who beat time with her head and waved a little bit of stick, intoxicated50 by this noble music.
For an hour the pageant51 wound through the dejected street, pursuing neither method nor set route, till it came to a deserted52 slag-heap, selected for the speech-making. Slowly the motley regiment53 swung into that grim amphitheatre under the pale sunshine; and, as I watched, a strange fancy visited my brain. I seemed to see over every ragged head of those marching women a little yellow flame, a thin, flickering54 gleam, spiring55 upward and blown back by the wind. A trick of the sunlight, maybe? Or was it that the life in their hearts, the inextinguishable breath of happiness, had for a moment escaped prison, and was fluttering at the pleasure of the breeze?
Silent now, just enjoying the sound of the words thrown down to them, they stood, unimaginably patient, with that happiness of they knew not what gilding56 the air above them between the patchwork57 ribands of their poor flags. If they could not tell very much why they had come, nor believe very much that they would gain anything by coming; if their demonstration58 did not mean to the world quite all that oratory59 would have them think; if they themselves were but the poorest, humblest, least learned women in the land — for all that, it seemed to me that in those tattered61, wistful figures, so still, so trustful, I was looking on such beauty as I had never beheld62. All the elaborated glory of things made, the perfected dreams of aesthetes63, the embroideries64 of romance, seemed as nothing beside this sudden vision of the wild goodness native in humble60 hearts.
1910.
1 canopied | |
adj. 遮有天篷的 | |
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2 fumes | |
n.(强烈而刺激的)气味,气体 | |
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3 lull | |
v.使安静,使入睡,缓和,哄骗;n.暂停,间歇 | |
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4 sweeping | |
adj.范围广大的,一扫无遗的 | |
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5 pallid | |
adj.苍白的,呆板的 | |
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6 reek | |
v.发出臭气;n.恶臭 | |
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7 slag | |
n.熔渣,铁屑,矿渣;v.使变成熔渣,变熔渣 | |
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8 alleys | |
胡同,小巷( alley的名词复数 ); 小径 | |
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9 alley | |
n.小巷,胡同;小径,小路 | |
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10 dispersed | |
adj. 被驱散的, 被分散的, 散布的 | |
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11 alacrity | |
n.敏捷,轻快,乐意 | |
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12 sooted | |
v.煤烟,烟灰( soot的过去分词 ) | |
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13 immortal | |
adj.不朽的;永生的,不死的;神的 | |
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14 poking | |
n. 刺,戳,袋 vt. 拨开,刺,戳 vi. 戳,刺,捅,搜索,伸出,行动散慢 | |
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15 fiery | |
adj.燃烧着的,火红的;暴躁的;激烈的 | |
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16 mallet | |
n.槌棒 | |
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17 tongs | |
n.钳;夹子 | |
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18 chattered | |
(人)喋喋不休( chatter的过去式 ); 唠叨; (牙齿)打战; (机器)震颤 | |
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19 dingy | |
adj.昏暗的,肮脏的 | |
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20 whitewashed | |
粉饰,美化,掩饰( whitewash的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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21 anticipation | |
n.预期,预料,期望 | |
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22 forth | |
adv.向前;向外,往外 | |
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23 ragged | |
adj.衣衫褴褛的,粗糙的,刺耳的 | |
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24 bonnets | |
n.童帽( bonnet的名词复数 );(烟囱等的)覆盖物;(苏格兰男子的)无边呢帽;(女子戴的)任何一种帽子 | |
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25 swarmed | |
密集( swarm的过去式和过去分词 ); 云集; 成群地移动; 蜜蜂或其他飞行昆虫成群地飞来飞去 | |
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26 magpie | |
n.喜欢收藏物品的人,喜鹊,饶舌者 | |
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27 chattering | |
n. (机器振动发出的)咔嗒声,(鸟等)鸣,啁啾 adj. 喋喋不休的,啾啾声的 动词chatter的现在分词形式 | |
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28 myriad | |
adj.无数的;n.无数,极大数量 | |
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29 brutal | |
adj.残忍的,野蛮的,不讲理的 | |
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30 acquiescing | |
v.默认,默许( acquiesce的现在分词 ) | |
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31 irony | |
n.反语,冷嘲;具有讽刺意味的事,嘲弄 | |
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32 haughty | |
adj.傲慢的,高傲的 | |
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33 discordance | |
n.不调和,不和,不一致性;不整合;假整合 | |
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34 brass | |
n.黄铜;黄铜器,铜管乐器 | |
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35 apathy | |
n.漠不关心,无动于衷;冷淡 | |
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36 shuffled | |
v.洗(纸牌)( shuffle的过去式和过去分词 );拖着脚步走;粗心地做;摆脱尘世的烦恼 | |
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37 disturbance | |
n.动乱,骚动;打扰,干扰;(身心)失调 | |
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38 thumping | |
adj.重大的,巨大的;重击的;尺码大的;极好的adv.极端地;非常地v.重击(thump的现在分词);狠打;怦怦地跳;全力支持 | |
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39 ecstasy | |
n.狂喜,心醉神怡,入迷 | |
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40 Christian | |
adj.基督教徒的;n.基督教徒 | |
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41 guardians | |
监护人( guardian的名词复数 ); 保护者,维护者 | |
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42 gaping | |
adj.口的;张口的;敞口的;多洞穴的v.目瞪口呆地凝视( gape的现在分词 );张开,张大 | |
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43 follower | |
n.跟随者;随员;门徒;信徒 | |
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44 maker | |
n.制造者,制造商 | |
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45 slits | |
n.狭长的口子,裂缝( slit的名词复数 )v.切开,撕开( slit的第三人称单数 );在…上开狭长口子 | |
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46 exquisite | |
adj.精美的;敏锐的;剧烈的,感觉强烈的 | |
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47 spoke | |
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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48 laden | |
adj.装满了的;充满了的;负了重担的;苦恼的 | |
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49 squeals | |
n.长而尖锐的叫声( squeal的名词复数 )v.长声尖叫,用长而尖锐的声音说( squeal的第三人称单数 ) | |
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50 intoxicated | |
喝醉的,极其兴奋的 | |
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51 pageant | |
n.壮观的游行;露天历史剧 | |
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52 deserted | |
adj.荒芜的,荒废的,无人的,被遗弃的 | |
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53 regiment | |
n.团,多数,管理;v.组织,编成团,统制 | |
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54 flickering | |
adj.闪烁的,摇曳的,一闪一闪的 | |
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55 spiring | |
v.(教堂的) 塔尖,尖顶( spire的现在分词 ) | |
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56 gilding | |
n.贴金箔,镀金 | |
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57 patchwork | |
n.混杂物;拼缝物 | |
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58 demonstration | |
n.表明,示范,论证,示威 | |
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59 oratory | |
n.演讲术;词藻华丽的言辞 | |
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60 humble | |
adj.谦卑的,恭顺的;地位低下的;v.降低,贬低 | |
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61 tattered | |
adj.破旧的,衣衫破的 | |
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62 beheld | |
v.看,注视( behold的过去式和过去分词 );瞧;看呀;(叙述中用于引出某人意外的出现)哎哟 | |
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63 aesthetes | |
n.审美家,唯美主义者( aesthete的名词复数 ) | |
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64 embroideries | |
刺绣( embroidery的名词复数 ); 刺绣品; 刺绣法 | |
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