And people passing by the coffin paused for a moment and stared at the name with a feeling of unspoken wonder in their hearts. Eliza stood looking at the wreath a moment with hands clasped across her waist, and then turned away, shaking her head rapidly, with a short convulsive pucker6 of her lips, as she spoke5 to Helen in a low voice:
“I tell you what — it’s pretty strange when you come to think of it — it gives you a queer feeling — I tell you what, it does.”
And this expressed the emotion that everyone felt when they saw the wreath. For Hugh McGuire had been found dead at his desk at six o’clock that morning, the news had just spread through the town, and now, when people saw the wreath upon Gant’s coffin, there was something in their hearts they could not utter.
Gant lay in the splendid coffin, with his great hands folded quietly on his breast. Later, the boy could not forget his father’s hands. They were the largest, most powerful, and somehow the most shapely hands he had ever seen. And even though his great right hand had been so crippled and stiffened7 by an attack of inflammatory rheumatism8 ten years before that he had never regained9 the full use of it, and since that time could only hold the great wooden mallet10 that the stone-cutters use in a painful and clumsy half-clasp between the thumb and the big stiffened fingers, his hands had never lost their character of life, strength, and powerful shapeliness.
The hands had given to the interminable protraction of his living death a kind of concrete horror that it otherwise would not have had. For as his powerful gaunt figure waned11 and wasted under the ravages12 of the cancer that was consuming him until he had become only the enfeebled shadow of his former self, his gaunt hands, on which there was so little which death could consume, lost none of their former rock-like heaviness, strength and shapely power. Thus, even when the giant figure of the man had become nothing but a spectral13 remnant of itself, sunk in a sorrow of time, awaiting death, those great, still-living hands of power and strength hung incredibly, horribly, from that spectral form of death to which they were attached.
And for this reason those powerful hands of life evoked14, as nothing else could have done, in an instant searing flash of memory and recognition the lost world of his father’s life of manual power, hunger, fury, savage15 abundance and wild joy, the whole enchanted16 structure of that lost life of magic he had made for them. Constantly, those great hands of life joined, with an almost grotesque17 incongruity18, to that scarecrow form of wasting death would awake for them, as nothing else on earth could do, all of the sorrowful ghosts of time, the dream-like spell and terror of the years between, the years of phantom19 death, the horror of unreality, strangeness, disbelief, and memory, that haunted them.
So was it now, even in death, with his father’s hands. In their powerful, gaunt and shapely clasp, as he lay dead in his coffin, there seemed to be held and gathered, somehow, all of his life that could never die — a living image of the essential quality of his whole life with its fury and unrest, desire and hunger, the tremendous sweep and relish20 of its enormous appetites and the huge endowment of its physical and sensual powers.
Thus, one could suppose that on the face of a dead poet there might remain — how, where or in what way we could not tell, a kind of flame, a light, a glory — the magic and still living chrysm of his genius. And on the face of the dead conqueror21 we might still see living, arrogant22, and proud with all its dark authorities the frown of power, the inflexible23 tyranny of stern command, the special infinitude of the invincible24 will that would not die with life, and that incredibly remains25, still dark and living in its scorn and mockery of time.
Then, on the face of an old dead prophet or philosopher there would live and would not die the immortality26 of proud, lonely thought. We could not say just where that spirit rested. Sometimes it would seem to rest upon the temples of the grand and lonely head. Sometimes we would think it was a kind of darkness in the shadows of the closed and sunken eyes, sometimes the marsh27 fire of a dark and lambent flame that hovered28 round the face, that could never be fixed29, but that we always knew was there.
And just as poet, prophet, priest and conqueror might each retain in death some living and fitting image of his whole life’s truth, so would the strength, the skill, all of the hope, hunger, fury, and unrest that had lashed30 and driven on through life the gaunt figure of a stone-cutter be marvellously preserved in the granite31 power and symmetry of those undying hands.
Now the corpse32 was stretched out on the splendid satin cushions of the expensive coffin. It had been barbered, powdered, disembowelled, and pumped full of embalming33 fluid. As it lay there with its waxen head set forward in its curious gaunt projectiveness, the pale lips firmly closed and with a little line of waxen mucus in the lips, the women came forward with their oily swollen34 faces, and a look of ravenous35 eagerness in their eyes, stared at it hard and long, lifted their sodden36 handkerchiefs slowly to their oily mouths, and were borne away, sobbing37 hysterically38, by their equally oily, ravenous, sister orgiasts in sorrow.
Meanwhile his father’s friends, the stone-cutters, masons, building contractors39, butchers, business men and male relatives were standing40 awkwardly about, dressed in their good, black clothes which they seemed not to wear so much as to inhabit with a kind of unrestful itchiness, lowering their eyes gravely and regretfully as the women put on their revolting show, talking together in low voices, and wondering when it would all be over.
These circumstances, together with the heavy unnatural41 languor42 of the funeral smells, the sweet-sick heaviness of the carnations, the funereal43 weepy blacks in which the women had arrayed themselves, the satiny sandalwood scent44 that came from the splendid coffin, and the fragrant45 faintly acrid46 odour of embalmed47 flesh, particularly when blended with the smell of cooking turnip48 greens, roast pork and apple sauce out in the kitchen, combined to create an atmosphere somewhat like a dinner in a comfortably furnished morgue.
In all this obscene pomp of burial there was something so grotesque, unnatural, disgusting, and remote from all he could remember of the dead man’s life and personality that everything about him — even the physical horror of his bloody49 death — now seemed so far away he could hardly believe it ever happened. Therefore, he stared at this waxen and eviscerated50 relic51 in the coffin with a sense of weird52 disbelief, unable to relate it to the living man who had bled great lakes of blood the night before.
Yet, even in his death, his father’s hands still seemed to live, and would not die. And this was the reason why the memory of those hands haunted him then and would haunt him for ever after. This was the reason why, when he would try to remember how he looked when dead, he could remember nothing clearly except the powerful sculptured weight and symmetry of his tremendous hands as they lay folded on his body in the coffin. The great hands had a stony53, sculptured and yet living strength and vitality54, as if Michelangelo had carved them. They seemed to rest there upon the groomed55, bereft56 and vacant horror of the corpse with a kind of terrible reality as if there really is, in death, some energy of life that will not die, some element of man’s life that must persist and that resumes into a single feature of his life the core and essence of his character.
点击收听单词发音
1 cloying | |
adj.甜得发腻的 | |
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2 fragrance | |
n.芬芳,香味,香气 | |
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3 carnations | |
n.麝香石竹,康乃馨( carnation的名词复数 ) | |
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4 coffin | |
n.棺材,灵柩 | |
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5 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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6 pucker | |
v.撅起,使起皱;n.(衣服上的)皱纹,褶子 | |
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7 stiffened | |
加强的 | |
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8 rheumatism | |
n.风湿病 | |
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9 regained | |
复得( regain的过去式和过去分词 ); 赢回; 重回; 复至某地 | |
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10 mallet | |
n.槌棒 | |
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11 waned | |
v.衰落( wane的过去式和过去分词 );(月)亏;变小;变暗淡 | |
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12 ravages | |
劫掠后的残迹,破坏的结果,毁坏后的残迹 | |
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13 spectral | |
adj.幽灵的,鬼魂的 | |
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14 evoked | |
[医]诱发的 | |
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15 savage | |
adj.野蛮的;凶恶的,残暴的;n.未开化的人 | |
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16 enchanted | |
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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17 grotesque | |
adj.怪诞的,丑陋的;n.怪诞的图案,怪人(物) | |
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18 incongruity | |
n.不协调,不一致 | |
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19 phantom | |
n.幻影,虚位,幽灵;adj.错觉的,幻影的,幽灵的 | |
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20 relish | |
n.滋味,享受,爱好,调味品;vt.加调味料,享受,品味;vi.有滋味 | |
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21 conqueror | |
n.征服者,胜利者 | |
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22 arrogant | |
adj.傲慢的,自大的 | |
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23 inflexible | |
adj.不可改变的,不受影响的,不屈服的 | |
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24 invincible | |
adj.不可征服的,难以制服的 | |
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25 remains | |
n.剩余物,残留物;遗体,遗迹 | |
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26 immortality | |
n.不死,不朽 | |
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27 marsh | |
n.沼泽,湿地 | |
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28 hovered | |
鸟( hover的过去式和过去分词 ); 靠近(某事物); (人)徘徊; 犹豫 | |
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29 fixed | |
adj.固定的,不变的,准备好的;(计算机)固定的 | |
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30 lashed | |
adj.具睫毛的v.鞭打( lash的过去式和过去分词 );煽动;紧系;怒斥 | |
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31 granite | |
adj.花岗岩,花岗石 | |
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32 corpse | |
n.尸体,死尸 | |
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33 embalming | |
v.保存(尸体)不腐( embalm的现在分词 );使不被遗忘;使充满香气 | |
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34 swollen | |
adj.肿大的,水涨的;v.使变大,肿胀 | |
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35 ravenous | |
adj.极饿的,贪婪的 | |
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36 sodden | |
adj.浑身湿透的;v.使浸透;使呆头呆脑 | |
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37 sobbing | |
<主方>Ⅰ adj.湿透的 | |
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38 hysterically | |
ad. 歇斯底里地 | |
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39 contractors | |
n.(建筑、监造中的)承包人( contractor的名词复数 ) | |
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40 standing | |
n.持续,地位;adj.永久的,不动的,直立的,不流动的 | |
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41 unnatural | |
adj.不自然的;反常的 | |
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42 languor | |
n.无精力,倦怠 | |
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43 funereal | |
adj.悲哀的;送葬的 | |
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44 scent | |
n.气味,香味,香水,线索,嗅觉;v.嗅,发觉 | |
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45 fragrant | |
adj.芬香的,馥郁的,愉快的 | |
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46 acrid | |
adj.辛辣的,尖刻的,刻薄的 | |
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47 embalmed | |
adj.用防腐药物保存(尸体)的v.保存(尸体)不腐( embalm的过去式和过去分词 );使不被遗忘;使充满香气 | |
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48 turnip | |
n.萝卜,芜菁 | |
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49 bloody | |
adj.非常的的;流血的;残忍的;adv.很;vt.血染 | |
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50 eviscerated | |
v.切除…的内脏( eviscerate的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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51 relic | |
n.神圣的遗物,遗迹,纪念物 | |
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52 weird | |
adj.古怪的,离奇的;怪诞的,神秘而可怕的 | |
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53 stony | |
adj.石头的,多石头的,冷酷的,无情的 | |
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54 vitality | |
n.活力,生命力,效力 | |
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55 groomed | |
v.照料或梳洗(马等)( groom的过去式和过去分词 );使做好准备;训练;(给动物)擦洗 | |
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56 bereft | |
adj.被剥夺的 | |
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