‘I HAVE been here before,’ I said; I had been there before; first with Sebastian more than twenty years ago on a cloudless day in June, when the ditches were creamy with meadowsweet and the air heavy with all the scents1 of summer; it was a day of peculiar3 splendour, and though I had been there so often, in so many moods, it was to that first visit that my heart returned on this, my latest.
That day, too, I had come not knowing my destination. It was Eights Week. Oxford4 - submerged now and obliterated6, irrecoverable as Lyonnesse, so quickly have the waters come flooding -in - Oxford, in those days, was still a city of aquatint. In her spacious7 and quiet streets men walked and spoke8 as they had done in Newman’s day; her autumnal mists, her grey springtime, and the rare glory of her summer days - such as that day - when the chestnut9 was in flower and the bells rang out high and clear over her gables and cupolas exhaled10 the soft airs of centuries of youth. It was this cloistral11 hush12 which gave our laughter its resonance13, and carried it still, joyously14, -over the intervening clamour. Here, discordantly15, in Eights Week, came a rabble16 of womankind, some hundreds strong, twittering and fluttering over the cobbles and up the steps, sight-seeing and pleasure-seeking, drinking claret cup, eating cucumber sandwiches; pushed in punts about the river, herded17 in droves to the college barges18; greeted in the Isis and in the Union by a sudden display of peculiar, facetious19, wholly distressing20 Gilbert-and-Sullivan badinage21, and by peculiar choral effects in the College chapels23. Echoes of the intruders penetrated24 every corner, and in my own College was no echo, but an original fount of the grossest disturbance25. We were giving a ball. The front quad26, where I lived, was floored and tented; palms and azaleas were banked round the porter’s lodge27; worst of all, the don who lived above me, a mouse of a man connected with the Natural Sciences, had lent his rooms for a Ladies’ Cloakroom, and a printed notice proclaiming this outrage28 hung not six inches from my oak.
No one felt more strongly about it than my scout29.
‘Gentlemen who haven’t got ladies are asked as far as possible to take their meals out in the next few days,’ he announced despondently30. ‘Will you be lunching in?’ ‘No, Lunt.’
‘So as to give the servants a chance, they say. What a chance! I’ve got to buy a pin-cushion for the Ladies’ Cloakroom. What do they want with dancing? I don’t see the reason in it. There never was dancing before in Eights Week. Commem. now is another matter being in the vacation, but not in Eights Week, as if teas and the river wasn’t enough. If you ask me, sir, it’s all on account of the war. It couldn’t have happened but for that.’ For this was 1923 and for Lunt, as for thousands of others, things could never be the same as they had been in 1914. ‘Now wine in the evening, he continued, as was his habit half in and half out of the door’ Cor one or two gentlemen to luncheon31, there’s reason in. But not dancing. It all came in with the men back from the war. They were too old and they didn’t know and they wouldn’t learn. That’s the truth. And there’s some even goes dancing with the town at the Masonic - but the proctors will get them, you see . . . Well, here’s Lord Sebastian. I mustn’t stand here talking when there’s pin-cushions to get.’
Sebastian entered - dove-grey flannel32, white crepe de Chine, a Charvet tie, my tie as it happened, a pattern of postage stamps ‘Charles - what in the world’s happening at your college? Is there a circus? I’ve seen everything except elephants. I must say the whole of Oxford has become most peculiar suddenly. Last night it was pullulating with women. You’re to come away at once, out of danger. I’ve got a motor-car and a basket of strawberries and a bottle of Chateau33 Peyraguey - which isn’t a wine you’ve ever tasted, so don’t pretend. It’s heaven with strawberries.’
‘Where are we going?’
‘To see a friend.’
‘Who?’
‘Name of Hawkins. Bring some money in case we see anything we want to buy. The motor-car is the property of a man called Hardcastle. Return the bits to him if I kill myself; I’m not very good at driving.
Beyond the gate, beyond the winter garden that was once the lodge, stood an open two-seater Morris-Cowley. Sebastian’s teddy bear sat at the wheel. We put him, between us - ‘Take care he’s not sick’ -and drove off. The bells of St Mary’s were chiming nine; we escaped collision with a clergyman, blackstraw-hatted, white-bearded) pedalling quietly down the wrong side of the High Street, crossed Carfax, passed the station, and were soon in open country on the Botley Road; open country was easily reached in those days.
(‘Isn’t it early?’ said Sebastian. ‘The women are still doing whatever women do to themselves before they come downstairs. Sloth34 has undone35 them. We’re away. God bless Hardcastle.’
‘Whoever he may be.’
‘He thought he was coming with us. Sloth, undid36 him too. Well, I did tell him ten. He’s a very gloomy man in my college. He leads a double life. At least I assume he does. He couldn’t go on being Hardcastle, day and night, always, could he? - or he’d die of it. He says he knows my father, which is impossible.’ ‘Why?’
‘No one knows papa. He’s a social leper. Hadn’t you heard?’
‘It’s a pity neither of us can sing,’ I said.
At Swindon we turned off the main road and, as the sun mounted high, we were among dry-stone walls and ashlar houses. It was about eleven when Sebastian, without warning, turned the car into a cart track and stopped. It was hot enough now to make us seek the shade. On a sheep-cropped knoll37 under a clump38 of elms we ate the strawberries and drank the wine - as Sebastian promised, they were delicious together - and we lit fat, Turkish cigarettes and lay on our backs, Sebastian’s eyes on the leaves above him, mine on his profile, while the blue-grey smoke rose, untroubled by any wind, to the blue-green shadows of foliage’, and the sweet scent2 of the tobacco, merged5 with the sweet summer scents around us and the fumes39 of the sweet golden wine seemed to lift us a finger’s breadth above the turf and hold us suspended. ‘Just the place to bury a crock of gold, ‘ said Sebastian. ‘I should like to bury something precious in every place where I’ve been happy and then when I was old and ugly and miserable40, -I could come back and dig it up and remember.’
This was my third term since matriculation, but I date my Oxford life from my first meeting with Sebastian, which had happened, by chance, in the middle of the term before. We were in different colleges and came from different schools; I might well have spent my three or four years in the University and never have met him, but for the chance of his getting drunk one evening in my college and of my having ground-floor rooms in .the front quadrangle.
I had been warned against the dangers of these rooms by my cousin Jasper, who alone, when I first came up, thought me a suitable subject for detailed41 guidance. My father offered me none. Then, as always, he eschewed42 serious conversation with me. It was not until I was within a fortnight of going up that he mentioned the subject at all; then he said, shyly and rather slyly: ‘I’ve been- talking about you. I met -your future Warden43 at the Athenaeum. I wanted to talk about Etruscan notions of immortality44; he wanted to talk about extension lectures for the working-class; so we compromised and talked about you. I asked him what your allowance should be. He said, “Three hundred a year; on no account give him more; that’s all most men have.” I thought that a deplorable answer. I had more than most men when I was up, and my recollection is that nowhere else in the world and at no other time, do a few hundred pounds, one way or the other, makee so much difference to one’s importance, and popularity. I toyed with the idea of giving you six hundred,’ said my father, snuffling a little, as he did when he was amused, ‘but I reflected that, should the Warden come to hear of it, it might sound deliberately45 impolite. So I shall e you five hundred and fifty.’ I thanked him.
Yes, it’s indulgent of me, but it all comes out of capital, you know. I suppose this is the time I should give you advice. I never had any myself except once from your cousin Alfred. Do you know, in the summer before I was going up, your cousin Alfred rode over to Boughton especially to give me a piece of advice? And do you know what the advice was? “Ned,” he said, “there’s one thing I must beg of you. Always wear a tall hat on Sundays during term. It is by that, more than anything, that a man is judged.” And do you know,’ continued my father, snuffling deeply, ‘I always did? Some men did, some didn’t. I never saw any difference between them or heard it commented on, but I always wore mine. It only shows what effect judicious46 advice can have, properly delivered at the right moment. I wish I had some for you, but I haven’t.’
My cousin Jasper made good the loss; he was the son of my father’s elder brother, to whom he referred more than once, only half facetiously47, as ‘the Head of the Family’; he was in his fourth year and, the term before, had come within appreciable48 distance of getting his rowing blue; he was secretary of the Canning and president of the J.C.R.; a considerable person in college. He called on me formally during my first week and stayed to tea; he ate a very heavy meal of honey-buns, anchovy49 toast, and Fuller’s walnut50 cake, then he lit his pipe and, lying back in the basketchair, laid down the rules of conduct which I should follow; he covered most subjects; even today I could repeat much of what he said, word for, word. ‘...You’re reading History? A perfectly51 respectable school. The very worst is English literature and the next worst is Modern Greats. You want either a first or a fourth. There is no value in anything between. Time spent on a good second is time thrown away. You should go to the best lectures Arkwright on Demosthenes for instance - irrespective of whether they are in your school or not...Clothes. Dress as you do in a country house. Never wear a tweed coat and flannel trousers - always a suit. And go to a London tailor; you get better cut and longer credit...Clubs. Join the Carlton now and the Grid52 at the beginning of your second year. If you want to run for the Union - and it’s not a bad thing to do - make your reputation outside first, at the Canning or the Chatham, and begin by speaking on the paper...Keep clear of Boar’s Hill...’ The sky over the opposing gables glowed and then darkened; I put more coal on the fire and turned on the light, revealing in their respectability his London-made plus-fours and his Leander tie...’Don’t treat dons like schoolmasters; treat them as you would the vicar at home...You’ll find you spend half your second year shaking off the undesirable53 friends you made in your first...Beware of the Anglo-Catholics - they’re all sodomites with unpleasant accents. In fact, steer54 clear of all the religious groups; they do nothing but harm...’ Finally, just as he was going, he said, ‘One last point. Change your rooms’ - They were large, with deeply recessed55 windows and painted, eighteenth-century panelling; I was lucky as a freshman56 to get them. ‘I’ve seen many a man ruined through having ground-floor rooms in the front quad,’ said my cousin with deep gravity. ‘People start dropping in. They leave their, gowns here and come and collect them before hall; you start giving them a sherry. Before you know where you are, you’ve opened a free bar for all the undesirables57 of the college.’
I do not know that I ever, consciously, followed any of this advice. I certainly never changed my rooms - there were gillyflowers growing below the windows which on summer evenings filled them with fragrance58.
It is easy, retrospectively, to endow one’s youth with a false precocity59 or a false innocence60; to tamper61 with the dates marking one’s stature62 on the edge of the door. I should like to think - indeed I sometimes do think - that I decorated those rooms with Morris stuffs and Arundel prints and that my shelves we’re filled with seventeenth-century folios and French novels of the second empire in Russia-leather and watered silk. But this was not the truth. On my first afternoon I proudly hung a reproduction of Van Gogh’s Sunflowers over the fire and set up a screen, painted by Roger Fry with a Provencal landscape, which I had bought inexpensively when the Omega workshops were sold up. I displayed also a poster by McKnight Kauffer and Rhyme Sheets from the Poetry Bookshop, and, most painful to recall, a porcelain63 figure of Polly Peachum which stood between black tapers64 on the chimney-piece. My books were meagre and commonplace - Roger Fry’s Vision and Design, the Medici Press edition of A Shropshire Lad, Eminent65 Victorians, some volumes of Georgian Poetry, Sinister66 Street, and South Wind - and my earliest friends fitted well into this background; they were Collins, a Wykehamist, an embryo67 don, a man of solid reading and childlike humour, and a small circle of college intellectuals, who maintained a middle course of culture between the flamboyant68 ‘aesthetes’ and the roletarian scholars who scrambled69 fiercely for facts in the lodging70 houses of the Iffley Road and Wellington Square. It was by this circle that I found myself adopted during my first term; they provided the kind of company I had enjoyed in the sixth form at school, for which the sixth form had prepared me; but even in the earliest days, when the whole business of living at Oxford, with rooms of my own and my own cheque book, was a source of excitement, I felt at heart that this was not all which Oxford had to offer.
At Sebastian’s approach these grey figures seemed quietly to fade into the landscape and vanish, like highland72 sheep in the misty73 heather. Collins had exposed the fallacy of modern aesthetics74 to me: ‘...the whole argument from Significant Form stands or falls by volume. If you allow C’ezanne to represent a third dimension on his two-dimensional canvas, then you must allow Landseer his gleam of loyalty75 in the spaniel’s eye’...but it was not until Sebastian, idly turning the page of Clive Bell’s Art, read: “’Does anyone feel the same kind of emotion for a butterfly or a flower that he feels for a cathedral or a picture?” Yes. I do,’ that my eyes were opened.
I knew Sebastian by sight long before I met him. That was unavoidable for, from his first week, he was the most conspicuous76 man of his year by reason of his beauty, which was arresting, and his eccentricities77 of behaviour, which seemed to know no bounds. My first sight of him was in the door of Germer’s, and, on that occasion, I was struck less by his looks than by the fact that he was carrying a large teddy-bear. ‘That,’ said the barber, as I took his chair, ‘was Lord Sebastian Flyte. A most amusing young gentleman.’
‘Apparently,’ I said coldly.
‘The Marquis of Marchmain’s second boy. His brother, the Earl of Brideshead, went down last term. Now he was very different, a very quiet gentleman’, quite like an old man. What do you suppose Lord Sebastian wanted? A hair brush for his teddybear; it had to have very stiff bristies, not, Lord Sebastian said, to brush him with, but to threaten him with a spanking78 when he was sulky. He bought a very nice one with an ivory back and he’s having “Aloysius” engraved79 on it’ - that’s the bear’s name.’ The man, who, in his time, had had ample chance to tire of undergraduate fantasy, was plainly-captivated. I, however, remained censorious, and subsequent glimpses of him, driving in a hansom cab and dining at the George in false whiskers, did not soften80 me, although Collins, who was reading Freud, had a number of technical terms to cover everything. Nor, when at last we met, were the circumstances propitious81. It was shortly before midnight in early March; I had been entertaining the college intellectuals to mulled claret; the fire was roaring, the air of my room heavy with smoke and spice, and my mind weary with metaphysics. I threw open my windows and from the quad outside came the not uncommon82 sound of bibulous83 laughter and unsteady steps. A voice said:
‘Hold up’; another, ‘Come on’; another, ‘Plenty of time...House...till Tom stops ringing’; and another, clearer than the rest, ‘D’you know I feel most unaccountably unwell. I must leave you a minute,’ and there appeared at my window the face I knew to be Sebastian’s, but not, as I had formerly84 seen it, alive and alight with gaiety; he looked at me for a moment with unfocused eyes and then, leaning forward well into the room, he was sick. It was not unusual for dinner parties to end in that way; there was in fact a recognized tariff85 for the scout on such occasions; we were all learning, by trial and error, to carry our wine. There was also a kind of insane and endearing orderliness about Sebastian’s choice, in his extremity86, of an open window. But, when all is said, it remained an unpropitious meeting.
His friends bore him to the gate and, in a few minutes, his host, an amiable87 Etonian of my year, returned to apologize. He, too, was tipsy and his explanations were repetitive and, towards the end, tearful. ‘The wines were too various,’ he said: ‘it was neither the quality nor the quantity that was at fault. It was the mixture. Grasp that and you have the root of the matter. To understand all is to forgive all.’
‘Yes,’ I said, but it was with a sense of grievance88 that I faced Lunt’s reproaches next morning.
‘A couple of jugs89 of mulled claret between the five of you,’ Lunt said, ‘and this had to happen. Couldn’t even get to the window. Those that can’t keep it down are better without it.’
‘It wasn’t one of my party. It was someone from out of college.’
‘Well, it’s just as nasty clearing it up, whoever it was.’
‘There’s five shillings on the sideboard.’
‘So I saw and thank you, but I’d rather not have the money and not have the mess, any morning.’
I took my gown and left him to his task. I still frequented the lecture-room in those days, and it was after eleven when I returned to college. I found my room full of flowers; what looked like, and, in fact, was, the entire day’s stock of a market-stall stood in every conceivable vessel90 in every part of the room. Lunt was secreting91 the last of them in brown paper preparatory to taking them home. ‘Lunt, what is all this?’
‘The gentleman from last night, sir, he left a note for you.’ The note was written in conté crayon on a whole sheet of my choice Whatman H.P. drawing paper: I am very contrite92. Aloysius won’t speak to me until he sees I am forgiven, so please come to luncheon today. Sebastian Flyte. It was typical of him, I reflected, to assume I knew where he lived; but, then, I did know. ‘A most amusing gentleman, I’m sure it’s quite a pleasure to clean up after him. I take it you’re lunching out, sir. I told Mr Collins and Mr Partridge so - they wanted to have their commons in here with you.’
‘Yes, Lunt, lunching out.’
That luncheon party - for party it proved to be - was the beginning o f a new epoch93 in my life.
I went there uncertainly, for it was foreign ground and there was a tiny, priggish, warning voice in my ear which in the tones of Collins told me it was seemly to hold back. But I was in search of love in those days, and I went full of curiosity and the faint, unrecognized apprehension94 that here, at last, I should find that low door in the wall, which others, I knew had found before me, which opened on an enclosed and enchanted95 garden, which was somewhere, not overlooked by any window, in the heart of that grey city.
Sebastian lived at Christ Church, high in Meadow Buildings. He was alone when I came, peeling a plover’s egg taken from the large nest of moss96 in the centre of his table. ‘I’ve just counted them,’ he said. ‘There were five each and two over, so I’m having the two. I’m unaccountably hungry today. I put myself unreservedly in the hands of Dolbear and Goodall, and feel so drugged that I’ve begun to believe that the whole of yesterday evening was a dream. Please don’t wake me up.
He was entrancing, with that epicene beauty which in extreme youth sings aloud for love and withers97 at the first cold wind.
His room was filled with a. strange jumble98 of objects - a harmonium in a gothic case, an elephant’s-foot waste-paper basket, a dome99 of wax fruit, two disproportionately large Sèvres vases, framed drawings by Daumier - made all the more incongruous by the austere100 college furniture and the large luncheon table. His chimney-piece was covered in cards of invitation from London hostesses.
‘That beast Hobson has put Aloysius next door,’ he said. ‘Perhaps it’s as well, as there
wouldn’t have been any plovers’ eggs for him. D’you know, Hobson hates Aloysius. I wish I had a scout like yours. He was sweet to me this morning where some people might have been quite strict.’
The party assembled. There were three Etonian freshmen101, mild, elegant, detached young men who had all been to a dance in London the night before, and spoke of it as though it had been the funeral of a near but unloved kinsman102. Each as he came into the room made first for the plovers’ eggs, then noticed Sebastian and then myself with a polite lack of curiosity which seemed to say: ‘We should not dream of being so offensive as to suggest that you never met us before.’
‘The first this year,’ they said. ‘Where do you get them?’
‘Mummy sends them from Brideshead. They always lay early for her.’ When the eggs were gone and we were eating the lobster103 Newburg, the last guest arrived.
‘My dear,’ he said, ‘I couldn’t get away before. I was lunching with my p-p-preposterous tutor. He thought it ‘was very odd my leaving when I did. I told him I had to change for F-f-footer.’
He was tall, slim, rather swarthy, with large saucy104 eyes. The rest of us wore rough tweeds and brogues. He had on a smooth chocolate-brown suit with loud white stripes, suède shoes, a large bow-tie and he drew off yellow, wash-leather gloves as he came into the room; part Gallic, part Yankee, part, perhaps Jew; wholly exotic. This, I did not need telling, was Anthony Blanche, the ‘aesthete’ par71 excellence105, a byword of iniquity106 from Cherwell Edge to Somerville. He had been pointed107 out to me often in the streets, as he pranced108 along with his high peacock tread; I had heard his voice in the George challenging the conventions; and now meeting him, under the spell of Sebastian, I found myself enjoying him voraciously109. After luncheon he stood on, the balcony with a megaphone which had appeared surprisingly among the bric-a-brac of Sebastian’s room, and in languishing110 tones recited passages from The Waste Land to the sweatered and muffled111 throng112 that was on its way to the river.
‘I, Tiresias, have foresuffered all,’ he sobbed113 to them from the Venetian arches;
‘Enacted on this same d-divan or b-bed,
I who have sat by Thebes below the wall
And walked among the 1-1-lowest of the dead...’
And then, stepping lightly into the room, ‘How I have surprised them! All b-boatmen are Grace Darlings to me. ‘
We sat on sipping114 Cointreau while the mildest and most detached of the Etonians sang: ‘Home they brought her warrior115 dead’ to his own accompaniment on the harmonium.
It was four o’clock before we broke up.
Anthony Blanche was the first to go. He took formal and complimentary116 leave of each of us in turn. To Sebastian he said: ‘My dear, I should like to stick you full of barbed arrows like a p-p-pin-cushion,’ and to me: ‘I think it’s perfectly brilliant of Sebastian to have discovered you. Where do you lurk117? I shall come down your burrow118 and ch-chivvy you out like an old st-t-toat.’
The others left soon after him. I rose to go with them, but Sebastian said: ‘Have some more Cointreau,’ so I stayed and later he said, ‘I must go to the Botanical Gardens.’ ‘Why? ‘
It seemed a good enough reason and I went with him. He took my arm as we walked under the walls of Merton.
‘I’ve never been to the Botanical Gardens,’ I said.
‘Oh, Charles, what a lot you have to learn! There’s a beautiful arch there and more different kinds of ivy than I knew existed. I don’t know where I should be without the Botanical Gardens.’
When at length I returned to my rooms and found them exactly as I had left them that morning, I detected a jejune120 air that had not irked me before. What was wrong? Nothing except the golden daffodils seemed to be real. Was it the screen? I turned it face to the wall. That was better.
It was the end of the screen. Lunt never liked it, and after a few days he took it away, to an obscure refuge he had under the stairs, full of mops and buckets. That day was the beginning of my friendship with Sebastian, and thus it came about, that morning in June, that I was lying beside him in the shade of the high elms watching the smoke from his lips drift up into the branches.
Presently we drove on and in another hour were hungry. We stopped at an inn, which was half farm also, and ate eggs and bacon, pickled walnuts121 and cheese, and drank our beer in a sunless parlour where an old clock ticked. in the shadows and a cat slept by the empty grate.
We drove on and in the early afternoon came to our destination: wrought122-iron gates and Twin, classical lodges123 on a village green, an avenue, more gates, open park-land, a turn in the drive and suddenly a new and secret landscape opened before us. We were at the head of a valley and below us, half a mile distant, grey and gold amid a screen of boskage, shone the dome and columns of an old house. ‘Well?’ said Sebastian, stopping the car. Beyond the dome lay receding124 steps of water and round it, guarding and hiding it, stood the soft hills. ‘Well?’
‘What a place to live in!’ I said.
‘You must see the garden front and the fountain.’ He leaned forward and put the car into gear. ‘It’s where my family live’; and even then, rapt in the vision, I felt, momentarily, an ominous125 chill at the words he used - not, ‘that is my house’, but ‘it’s where my family live’.
‘Don’t worry,’ he continued, ‘they’re all away. You won’t have to meet them.’
‘But I should like to.’
‘Well, you can’t. They’re in London.’
We drove round the front into a side court - ‘Everything’s shut up. We’d better go in this way’ - and entered through the fortress-like, stone-flagged, stone-vaulted126 passages of the servants’ quarters - ‘I want you to meet Nanny Hawkins. That’s what we’ve come for’ - and climbed uncarpeted, scrubbed elm stairs, followed more passages of wide boards covered in the centre by a thin strip of drugget, through passages covered by linoleum127, passing the wells of many minor128 staircases and many rows of crimson129 and gold fire buckets, up a final staircase, gated at the head. The dome was false, designed to be seen from below like the cupolas of Chambord. Its drum was merely an additional storey full of segmental rooms. Here were the nurseries. Sebastian’s nanny was seated at the open window; the fountain lay before her, the lakes, the temple, and, far away on the last spur, a glittering obelisk130; her hands lay open in her lap and loosely between them, a rosary; she was fast asleep. Long hours of work in her youth, authority in middle life, repose131 and security in her age, had set their stamp on her lined and serene132 face’.
‘Well, ‘ she said, waking; ‘this is a surprise.’
Sebastian kissed her.
‘Who’s this?’ she said, looking at me. ‘I don’ t think I know him.’
Sebastian introduced us.
‘You’ve come just the right time. Julia’s here for the day. Such a time they’re all having. It’s dull without them. Just Mrs Chandler and two of the girls and old Bert. And then they’re all going on holidays and the boiler’s being done out in August and you going to see his Lordship in Italy, and the rest on visits, it’ll be October before we’re settled down again. Still, I suppose Julia must have her enjoyment133 the same as other young ladies, though what they always want to go to London for in the best of the summer and the gardens all out, I never have understood. Father Phipps was here on Thursday and I said exactly the same to him,’ she added as though she had thus acquired sacerdotal authority for her opinion.
‘D’you say Julia’s here?’
‘Yes, dear, you must have just missed her. It’s the Conservative Women. Her Ladyship was to have done them, but she’s poorly. Julia won’t be long; she’s leaving immediately after her speech, before the tea.’
‘I’m afraid we may miss her again.’
‘Don’t do that, dear, it’ll be such a surprise to her seeing you, though she ought to wait for the tea, I told her, it’s what the Conservative Women come for. Now what’s the news? Are you studying hard at your books?’
‘Not very, I’m afraid, nanny,’
‘Ah, cricketing all day long, I expect, like your brother. He found time to study, too, though. He’s not been here since Christmas, but he’ll be here for the Agricultural, I expect. Did you see this piece about Julia in the paper? She brought it down for me. Not that it’s nearly good enough of her, but what it says is very nice. “The lovely daughter whom Lady Marchmain is bringing out this season...witty134 as well as ornamental135...the most popular débutante”, well that’s no more than the truth, though it was a shame to cut her hair; such a lovely head of hair she had, just like her Ladyship’s. I said to Father Phipps it’s not natural. He said: “Nuns do it,” and I said, “Well, surely, father, you aren’t going to make a nun136 out of Lady Julia? The very idea!”’ Sebastian and the old woman talked on. It was a charming room, oddly shaped to conform with the curve of the dome. The walls were papered in a pattern of ribbon and roses. There was a rocking horse in the corner and an oleograph of the Sacred Heart over the mantelpiece; the empty grate was hidden by a bunch of pampas grass and bulrushes; laid out on the top of the chest of drawers and carefully dusted, were the collection of small presents which had been brought home to her at various times by her children, carved shell and lava137, stamped leather, painted wood, china, bog-oak, damascened silver, blue-john, alabaster138, coral, the souvenirs of many holidays. Presently nanny said: ‘Ring the bell, dear, and we’ll have some tea. I usually go down to Mrs Chandler, but we’ll have it up here today. My usual girl has gone to London with the others. The new one is just up from the village. She didn’t know anything at first, but she’s coming along nicely. Ring the bell.’
But Sebastian said we had to go.
‘And miss Julia? She will be upset when she hears. It would have been such a surprise for her.’
‘Poor nanny,’ said Sebastian when we left the nursery. ‘She does have such a dull life. I’ve a good mind to bring her to Oxford to live with me, only she’d always be trying to send me to church. We must go quickly before my sister gets back.’ ‘Which are you ashamed of, her or me?’
‘I’m ashamed of myself,’ said Sebastian gravely. ‘I’m not going to have you get mixed up with my family. They’re so madly charming. All my life they’ve been taking things away from me. If they once got hold of you with their charm, they’d make you their friend not mine, and I won’t let them.’
‘All right,’ I said. ‘I’m perfectly content. But am I not going to be allowed to see any more of the house?’
‘It’s all shut up. We came to see nanny. On Queen Alexandra’s day it’s all open for a shilling. Well, come and look if you want to...’
He led me through a baize door into a dark corridor; I could dimly see a gilt139-cornice and vaulted plaster above; then, opening a heavy, smooth-swinging, mahogany door, he led me into a darkened hall. Light streamed through the cracks in the shutters140. Sebastian unbarred one, and folded it back; the mellow141 afternoon sun flooded in, over the bare floor, the vast, twin fireplaces of sculptured marble, the coved142 ceiling frescoed143 with classic deities144 and heroes, the gilt mirrors and scagliola pilasters, the islands of sheeted furniture. It was a glimpse only, such as might be had from the top of an omnibus into a lighted ballroom145; then Sebastian quickly shut out the sun. ‘You see,’ he said; ‘it’s like this.’
His mood had changed since we had drunk our wine under the elm trees, since we had turned the comer of the drive and he had said: ‘Well?’ ‘You see, there’s nothing to see. A few pretty things I’d like to show, you one day - not now. But there’s the chapel22. You must see that. It’s a monument of art nouveau.’ The last architect to work at Brideshead had added a colonnade146 and flanking pavilions. One of these was the chapel. We entered it by the public porch (another door led direct to the house); Sebastian dipped his fingers in the water stoup, crossed himself, and genuflected147; I copied him. ‘Why do you do that?’ he asked crossly. ‘Just good manners.’
‘Well, you needn’t on my account. You wanted to do sight-seeing; how about this?’ The whole interior had been gutted148, elaborately refurnished and redecorated in the arts-and-crafts style of the last decade of the nineteenth century. Angels in printed cotton smocks, rambler-roses, flower-spangled meadows, frisking lambs, texts in Celtic script, saints in armour149, covered the walls in an intricate pattern of clear, bright colours. There was a triptych of pale oak, carved so as to give it the peculiar property of seeming to have been moulded in Plasticine. The sanctuary150 lamp and all the metal furniture were of bronze, hand-beaten to the patina151 of a pock-marked skin; the altar steps had a carpet of grass-green, strewn with white and gold daisies.
‘Golly,’ I said.
‘It was papa’s wedding present to mama. Now, if you’ve seen enough, we’ll go.’ On the drive we passed a closed Rolls-Royce driven by a chauffeur152; in the back was a vague, girlish figure who looked round at us through the window. ‘Julia,’ said Sebastian. ‘We only just got away in time.’ We stopped to speak to a man with a bicycle - ‘That was old Bat,’ said Sebastian - and then were away, past the wrought iron,gates, past the lodges, and out on the road heading back to Oxford.
‘I’m sorry said Sebastian after a time. ‘I’m afraid I wasn’t very nice this afternoon.
Brideshead often has that effect on me. But I had to take you to see nanny.’ Why? I wondered; but said nothing - Sebastian’s life was governed by a code of such imperatives153. ‘I must have pillar-box red pyjamas,’ ‘I have to stay in bed until the sun works round to the windows,’ ‘I’ve absolutely got to drink champagne154 tonight!’ - except, ‘It had quite the reverse effect on me.’
After a long pause he said petulantly155, ‘I don’t keep asking you questions about your family.’
‘Neither do I about yours.’
‘But you look inquisitive156.’
‘Well, you’re so mysterious about them.’
‘I hoped I was mysterious about ‘everything.’
‘Perhaps I am rather curious about people’s families - you see, it’s not a thing I know about. There is only my father and myself. An aunt kept an eye on me for a time but my father drove her abroad. My mother was killed in the war.’ ‘Oh...how very unusual.’
‘She went to Serbia with the Red Cross. My father has been rather odd in the head ever since. He just lives alone in London with no friends and footles about collecting things.’
Sebastian said, ‘You don’t know what you’ve been saved. There are lots of us. Look them up in Debrett.’
His mood was lightening, now. The further we drove from Brideshead, the more he seemed to cast off his uneasiness - the almost furtive157 restlessness and irritability158 that had possessed159 him. The sun was behind us as we drove, so that we seemed to be in pursuit of our own shadows.
‘It’s half past five. We’ll get to Godstow in time for dinner, drink at the Trout160, leave Hardcastle’s motor-car, and walk back by the river. Wouldn’t that be best?’ That is the full account of my first brief visit to Brideshead; could I have known then that it, would one day be remembered with tears by a middle-aged161 captain of infantry162?
“我到过这儿，”我说。我以前到过那儿；二十多年前，在六月一个晴朗无云的日子里我第一次和塞巴斯蒂安一道去那儿，那时沟里长满淡黄色的绒线菊，空气里充满了夏天的芳香，那是特别晴朗的一天；虽然我常常去那儿，每次的心情都不一样，但是，在我这最后一次旧地重游时，心里回想起的却是我第一次的访问。
那一天，我也是漫无目的地来到这里的。那时在划船比赛周。牛津——像莱恩尼斯那块地方一样现在已经沉没，被人遗忘、不能复原了；海水很快把它淹没了——牛津，那时还是一座精雕细刻的城市。在她空阔、安静的街上，人们像在纽曼时代那样走路和说话；她秋天的雾，灰色的春天，她那难得的夏天的光辉——像那天那样——这时栗树开花，钟声清晰地高高飘过山墙和圆屋顶，散发出几个世纪的青春的柔和气息。是这种寂静使我们朗朗的笑声发出回响，使回声静静地、欢乐地在喧闹声中飘扬。在划船比赛周，一群妇女闹哄哄地来到这里，人数多达几百，她们嘁嘁喳喳，花枝招展地走在卵石路上，登上许多级台阶，游览观光，寻欢作乐，喝一杯杯红葡萄酒，吃面包夹腌黄瓜；撑着方头平底船在河上到处转，成堆地拥上大学游艇；她们出现在牛津泰晤士河上和大学生俱乐部里，爆发出一阵阵十分滑稽，叫人难受的吉尔伯特和沙利文式的逗笑的对话，她们在大学教室里的合唱特别引人注意。闯进来的这批人的喧闹声响遍了每个角落，在我们学院里，这闹声不是一般的喧闹，而是引起最粗俗骚乱的源泉。我们当时正在开舞会。在我居住的四方院子的前排楼房下已经铺起地板，支起帐篷，在门房周围摆满了棕榈和杜鹃花；最糟的是，那个住在我上面的胆小如鼠的管理自然科学学生的学监，把住房借给了外来人作女衣帽间，一张印好、宣布这桩侮辱性行为的招贴就挂在离我的橡木大门不到六英寸的地方。
对这件事情反应最强烈的是我的校工。
“凡是没有女朋友的先生们，请最近几天尽可能在外面用餐，”他沮丧地宣布。“您在学校吃午饭吗？”
“不在，伦特。”
“据说，为的是给下人们一个跳舞的机会。多么难得的机会！我得给女衣帽间买一个针插儿。他们跳舞干什么？我看毫无道理。以前在划船周从来没有跳过舞。庆祝舞会，那是另外一回事，那是假期中，不是在划船周举行的，仿佛喝茶还不够、泰晤士河还不够宽敞似的。先生，若是你问我原因的话，这全是因为战争。要不是战争，就不会发生这样的事情了。”因为这是在一九二三年，对伦特说来，就像对成千上万其他的人一样，世道再也不会和一九一四年一个样儿。“现在，晚上喝点酒，”他接下去说，照他的老习惯，半个身子在门里，半个身子在门外，“或者请一两位先生来吃午饭，这是有道理的。但是，不要跳舞。跳舞都是打仗回来的人带来的。他们年龄大了，他们没有学问，有不愿学习。真是这样，甚至有些人去城里共济会那儿同市民跳舞——学监会抓住他们的，你知道……哦，塞巴斯蒂安少爷来了，我不能站着闲聊，还得去买针插儿。”
塞巴斯蒂安进来——他穿条浅灰色法兰绒裤子，白绸上衣，打了一条时髦领带，上面印着邮票图案，恰巧像我那条。“查尔斯，你们学院究竟发生了什么事？来了马戏团吗？除了大象，我什么都看到了。我得说整个牛津一下子变得非常特别了。昨天晚上，女人的数目猛增起来。你得马上走，避开危险。我弄到了一辆摩托车，一筐草莓和一瓶法国佩拉基别墅的葡萄酒——这是你没有喝过的酒，别装蒜了。这种酒就草莓可美极了。”
“咱们上哪儿去？”
“去看一个朋友。”
“谁？”
“一个名叫霍金斯的。身上带点钱，万一看到什么东西好买。这辆摩托是一个名叫哈德尔斯卡的财产。如果我摔死了，替我把破车还给他；我摩托开得不太好。”
在大门外，在过去做过传达室的冬季花园外面，停了一辆敞篷双座摩托车。塞巴斯蒂安的玩具熊放在车辆上。我们把玩具熊放在我们两人中间——“当心别让他生病”——然后开车走了。圣玛丽教堂的大钟敲了九点；我们险些撞上一个牧师，那人戴着黑草帽，留着白胡须，骑着自行车，在大街上沿着逆行线自由自在前进。摩托车横过卡尔法克斯，开过车站，不久就到了波特莱路的田野上。在那时侯，很容易到达田野。
“天不是还早吗？”塞巴斯蒂安说，“女人们还在干她们下楼以前独自干的事情。懒散的习惯毁了她们。我们走了。上帝保佑车主人哈德卡斯尔。”
“哈德卡斯尔究竟是谁？”
“他本来打算和我们一道来。也是懒散的习惯毁了他。嗯，我跟他说过十点见。他在我们学院是个很阴郁的人。他过着一种双重人格的生活。至少，我认为他是这样。他不能够白天黑夜总是哈德卡斯尔，他能这样吗？——否则他就会腻味死了。他说他认识我父亲，这是不可能的。”
“为什么？”
“谁也不认识我爸爸。社会上人人都避开他。你没有听说过吗？”
“可惜咱们俩都不会唱歌。”我说。
在斯温敦我们离开大路，太阳高高升起时，我们已经到达不用灰泥砌的石墙和细方石砌的房屋中间了。大约十一点钟，塞巴斯蒂安没打招呼就把车开到一条大车道上停了下来。这时天气已经热得使我们得找个阴凉地方休息。我们在榆树下草尖被羊啃掉的小丘上吃草莓、喝酒——像塞巴斯蒂安许诺的那样，这两种东西一块吃味道很美——我们点上了土耳其大雪茄，仰卧在草地上，塞巴斯蒂安望着他上面的树叶，我望着他的侧影，灰蓝色的烟没有一丝风干扰，一直飘到深绿色树叶的阴影里，烟草的甜香和周围夏天的甜香混合在一起，再加上芬芳的金色葡萄酒，仿佛把我们托举起来，离草地一指高，使我们悬在空中。
“这正是埋一罐金子的好地方，”塞巴斯蒂安说，“我想在我幸福生活过的每一处地方埋一件宝贵的东西，等到我变得又老又丑和不幸的时候，我就可以回去把它挖出来，回忆往事。”
这是我进牛津后的第三个学期，但是，我把我和塞巴斯蒂安的结识看成我的牛津生活的开始，我是在上个学期中偶然遇到他的。我们不在同一个学院，来自不同的中学，如果不是一个偶然的机会，一天晚上他在我的学院喝醉了，而我住的又是四方院子前排底层的房间，我很可能上三四年大学也遇不到他。
我的堂兄贾斯珀警告过我住底层的房间是危险的。我刚到学校，只有他认为我是适合他细心指导的对象。我的父亲没有给我任何指导。当时，像往常一样，我父亲避免和我谈任何严肃的问题。直到上学前差不多两周时，他才提起学校这个题目，他迟迟疑疑、躲躲闪闪地说：“我正谈到你呢。我在科学俱乐部遇到你将来的院长。我想谈谈伊特拉斯坎人对永生问题的看法；他要谈给工人阶级增设讲座的问题；所以，我们互相让步，就谈起你来了。我问他将来给你多少补助。他说：‘三百镑一年；决不会再多给。大多数人都是这个数目。’我认为这是个可怜的数目。我上学时得的津贴比大多数人都多。我回想起来，在世界上任何地方，任何时候，想方设法多几百镑数目的差别都没有一个人的重要性和名声影响那么大。我考虑给你六百镑，”我父亲一边说，一边抽抽鼻子，每逢他感到有趣时就抽一下鼻子，“可是我想，假如院长听到了这事，他可能认为我存心对他不客气，所以，我还是给你五百五十镑。”
我谢了他。
“嗯，这是我娇惯你，但是，你知道，这全都是由存款里提出的……我想，到了我该忠告你的时候了。我自己从来没有得到过人家的指教，除了咱们的远房亲戚艾尔弗雷德特地骑着马到鲍通来指教我。你知道他忠告的内容吗？‘内德，’他说，‘有一件事我一定要求你做到。在校期间，每逢星期天都要戴礼帽，判断一个人，不靠别的，就靠他的礼帽。’你知道吗？”我的父亲一边接下去说，一边深深地抽一下鼻子，“我总是戴着礼帽的。有些人戴，有些人不戴。我从没有看到这两种人有什么不同，也没有听见有人议论过这一点。但我总是戴着礼帽。这样做，不过是表明，凡是切合时宜的、非常有见识的忠告能够产生什么样的影响。我希望我能给你提出些忠告，可是我没有。”
我的堂兄贾斯珀弥补了这种损失。他是我伯父的大儿子，我父亲不止一次半开玩笑地称他为“家长”。他读到四年级，估计这个学期结束以前就会获得穿上牛津大学划船队员蓝色衣着的荣誉；他是坎宁俱乐部的秘书和大学三年级公共休息室的总管；他是那个学院相当重要的人物。我上大学的第一周，他就来正式拜访我，留下来喝茶；他吃了很难消化的一顿：蜂蜜小圆面包，油浸鳀鱼烤面包片，富勒氏胡桃蛋糕，然后他点上烟斗，躺在柳条椅子上，定下我应当遵守的行动准则；他谈到很多题目，甚至今天我还能逐字逐句地背下他所说的许多话：“……你是学历史的吗？一门相当不错的学科。最坏的是‘英国文学’这一科。其次要数‘现代伟人传’。你或是争取第一名或是第四名。任何中间的名次都没有价值。为了获得一个名次好的第二名，你花在上面的时间等于白白丢掉了。你得去听最好的讲演——比如说，听阿克赖特论述德摩斯梯尼讲演——不管这些讲演是不是你的学院主办的——衣服嘛，就像你在乡间那样的穿着。千万不要穿花呢上衣配法兰绒裤——永远要穿成套的衣服。到伦敦裁缝店去做，那里剪裁好，赊欠的期限也长……俱乐部吗，现在参加卡尔顿俱乐部，二年级一开始，就参加格里德俱乐部。如果你要参加大学生俱乐部的竞选——这也不是件坏事情——首先在坎宁或查塔姆俱乐部把你的名声扬出去，然后在报纸上发表文章……不要去野猎山酒店……”对面山墙的上空映出霞光，然后就昏黑了；我往火炉里添一些煤，开了灯，看到他那条伦敦做的肥肥大大的运动裤和利安德牌领带很有气派。“不要像对待中学教师那样对待大学教师，应当像在家里对待教区牧师那样对待他们……你会发现，到二年级时你得花上半年时间去甩掉你在一年级结识的那些不中意的朋友……当心英国天主教徒——他们都是些口音很难听、搞鸡奸的人。事实上，你得机灵地避开一切宗教团体，它们只会招来祸害……”
他临走时说：“最后一点。调换一下房间。”我住的房间很宽敞，有向里凹陷的窗户，油漆过的十八世纪的镶花地板；我真走运，作为大一的学生就搞到这种房间。“我见过许多人，由于住在四方院子前排底层而毁掉了。”我堂兄严肃认真地说，“人们开始顺道进来。他们把外衣丢在你的房里，然后在吃饭前来取；你开始给他们喝雪利酒，你还不知道是怎么回事，你就给学院一切不良分子开了一个免费酒吧。”
我不知道我是否有意识地听从了他的忠告。我当然没有换房间；这房间窗下种了紫罗兰，在夏天的夜晚，我的房间充满了花香。
一个人回忆往事时，容易把伪造的早熟现象或装出来的天真神气赋予他的青春时代，就仿佛改变画在门边记录身高的日期一样。我很愿意想象——我有时的确那样想象——自己用莫里斯的作品和阿伦德尔的画片装饰这间房子，想象自己的书架上摆满十七世纪对开本的大书和用俄罗斯皮革和波纹绸做书皮的第二帝国时期的法国小说。但是这并不是事实。在我住进去的第一天下午，我就骄傲地把一副凡·高的《向日葵》复制品挂在壁炉上面，竖起一扇屏风，上面画着罗杰·弗赖画的普罗旺斯风景画，这扇屏风我是在欧米加工艺厂为还债而举行拍卖时廉价买来的。我还贴起了一张从诗歌书店弄来的麦克奈特·考弗和赖姆·希茨画的招贴画，而且，回忆起来最令我伤心的是，摆在壁炉架上两支细长黑蜡烛之间的一个波莉·皮奇恩的瓷像。我的书数量少而且很平常——罗杰·弗赖的《梦幻与设计》、美第奇出版社出版的《一个施拉普郡的少年》、《维多利亚时代名人传》、几本《乔治王朝诗选》、《罪恶的街》和《南风》——我早年的朋友在这个背景里显得很合适；这些朋友是科林斯，一个温彻斯特学院的成员，他是未来牛津大学的教师，一个学识广博、孩子脾气的人；还有一小群大学知识分子，这些人在浮夸的“唯美主义”和在伊弗莱路和惠灵顿广场的公寓里拼命收集事实的无产阶级学者两方之间保持着一种中间路线的文化。在我第一学期，我发现自己被这种知识界接纳了；他们给我提供了我在中学六年级所喜欢的朋友，而中学六年级又培养了我的这种性格。即使在我初进牛津的时候，牛津生活的全部内容有自己的房子和支票簿，虽然它是使我兴奋的源泉，但是我还是感到这并不是牛津非得提供给我的一切。
和塞巴斯蒂安一接近，这些灰色人物似乎静静地在背景里消失了，并变得无影无踪，他们像高原上的羊群没入雾霭笼罩的灌木丛中。科林斯曾经向我揭示过现代美学的谬误：“有意义的形式存在与否的全部论据决定于体积，如果你允许塞尚在他的两度空间的画布上表现出第三度空间，那么你就必须允许兰西尔在长耳狗的眼光里表现它的忠诚……”直到塞巴斯蒂安懒洋洋地翻着克莱夫·贝尔的《艺术》才念道：“‘谁对一只蝴蝶或一朵花的感情会像对一个大教堂或一幅画一样呢？’是的，我就感到，”直到他念到这地方，我才睁开了眼。
在我遇见塞巴斯蒂安之前，我就认得他的模样了。这是不可避免的，因为，由于他的引人注目的漂亮，怪僻的行为，在进校的第一周，他就是这一年新生中最惹人注目的人物了。我第一次见他是在杰默理发店里，那一次令我吃惊的不是因为他的外貌，而是因为他带了一只大的玩具熊。
“那位是，”理发师在我坐到椅子上时说，“塞巴斯蒂安·弗莱特少爷。一位非常有趣的青年绅士。”
“显然是的。”我冷冷地说。
“马奇梅因侯爵的二少爷。他的哥哥布赖兹赫德伯爵上学期离校了。那位可是大不一样，是一位安静的绅士，很像个老头儿。你猜塞巴斯蒂安来干什么？来给他的玩具熊要一把发刷，鬃毛要很硬的，不是用来梳熊毛，而是在他生气时用发刷打熊的屁股以吓唬它。塞巴斯蒂安买的是一只很漂亮的玩具熊，熊背是象牙做的，他让人在它的背上刻上‘阿洛伊修斯’的字样——这是熊的名字。”一个人在他那个年龄，可能已经厌倦了大学生的幻想，但是他显然给这头熊迷住了。可是，我对塞巴斯蒂安一直抱着吹毛求疵的态度，以后还见过他几次，一次他坐在双轮轻便马车上，一次他戴着假胡子在乔治餐厅用餐，虽然科林斯还在读弗洛伊德，能用许多专门名词解释一切，但是我对塞巴斯蒂安的印象仍然没有变好。
终于，我们见面了。这一次情况也是不吉利的。那是三月初一个晚上快到午夜时分，我正在请大学一些知识界朋友喝香甜的热葡萄酒；炉火熊熊，房间里充满烟味和香味，由于净谈抽象理论，我心里感到非常厌倦。我打开窗户，外面院子传来不平常的醉汉的笑声和不稳的脚步声。一个声音说：“停下”；另一个声音说：“来吧”；又一个说：“有的是时间……房屋……等到汤姆打完了电话再说”；另一个比其他的更清亮的声音说：“你知道，我感到非常难受。我得出去一会儿。”然后，一个面孔出现在我的窗口，我认出来这是塞巴斯蒂安，但是，那面容不像我以前看到的那样活泼和喜气洋洋；他用茫然的眼睛看了我一会儿，然后，弯着腰走进屋里，他病了。
宴会这样结束是件普通的事；事实上，遇到这种宴会，总要给校工一笔小费；我们大家都反复摸索着调制混合葡萄酒。塞巴斯蒂安在无路可走的时候选择了一扇开着的窗户，这样做带有一种疯狂和可爱的有条不紊的风度。但是，这毕竟是个不吉利的见面。
塞巴斯蒂安的朋友们把他背到大门口，几分钟后，他的东道主回来道歉，那是一个和我同年龄的、和蔼的、伊顿公学来的学生。他自己也喝醉了，他反复地解释，临到末了，眼泪汪汪的。“酒跟酒太不一样了，”他说，“问题不在数量上，也不在质量上。问题在于混合。理解这一点，你们就了解事情的真相了。了解一切就是原谅一切。”
“是的，”我说。可是第二天早晨受到伦特的责备时我就感到牢骚满腹了。
“你们五个人喝两大壶热葡萄酒，”伦特说，“这事非得发生不可。连窗口都去不了啦。那些喝不了的人就不要喝吧。”
“那不是我们请的客人。那个人是别的学院的。”
“不管是谁，收拾起来就够叫人恶心的了。”
“碗柜上有五先令。”
“我瞧见了。谢谢您。随便哪个早晨，我宁可不要这份钱，也不要收拾这些脏东西。”
我取了大衣走出去，让校工在那里收拾。那时侯，我还常常到教室去听讲，十一点后我才回到学院。我发现我房间里满是鲜花，那些花看起来实在够市场上一个花摊卖一整天的，凡是可以利用的瓶子都插上了花，我房间的每个地方都放上了花，我还看到伦特正在把最后的一些鲜花用牛皮纸包好，打算偷偷拿回家去。
“伦特，这么些花是哪儿来的？”
“先生，昨儿晚上来的那位先生放的，他给你留了个条子。”
下面的话是用彩色铅笔写在我的一大张我喜爱的上等图画纸上的：“我很后悔。阿洛伊修斯要到看见我被你饶恕了才会理我。因此，今天请你吃午饭。塞巴斯蒂安·弗莱特。”后来我回忆起，他毫无根据地认为我知道他住的地方，这是他的特点，其实，当时我并不知道。
“一位很有趣的先生，我相信，给他打扫是件十分快乐的事。先生，我想你要出去吃午饭吧。我这样告诉了科林斯先生和帕特里奇先生——他们本来要和你在食堂里吃饭的。”
“对的，伦特，我出去吃午餐。”
这次午餐——事实证明是个午餐会——是我生活中一个新时期的开始。
我去那里，心里却没有把握能否找到他的住处，因为那是个陌生的地方。我耳边响起一种微弱的、一本正经的、像科林斯的调子那样的声音，警告我最好不要去。可是那些日子我在寻求感情的安慰，我还是充满好奇心和怀着一种轻微的、不想承认的忧虑去了，感到终于会找到那扇矮门的，我知道在我以前别人已经找到了。这扇门通向一座用墙围起的、迷人的花园，这个花园位于这个阴沉的城市的中心，由哪扇窗子都望不见。
塞巴斯蒂安住在“基督教堂”，高踞在“草地大楼”中间。我到的时候只有他一个人，他从放在桌子中间的长了青苔的大鸟巢中取出一个鸟蛋，正在剥皮。
“我刚刚数了一下，”他说，“每人五个蛋，还多两个，因此我正在吃多出的两个。今天我饿极了。昨晚我拼命喝着两种名牌酒，酩酊大醉，醉得使我觉得昨晚的一切仿佛是个梦。请别弄醒我。”
他是迷人的，带着女性美，这是一种极端年轻的美，高唱着情歌，遇到头一阵寒风就凋谢了。
他的房间塞满了一堆乱七八糟的东西——一架装在中世纪式样盒子里的小风琴，一个像大象脚的废纸篓，一堆蜡制水果，两只大得和房间不相称的塞夫勒产的细瓷花瓶，几幅镶在框子里的杜米埃的画——由于朴素的大学家具和一张大餐桌，使这一切愈发显得不调和。他的壁炉架上摆满了伦敦女主人送来的请贴。
“霍布森这恶棍把阿洛伊修斯安置到隔壁房间去了。”他说，“也许这样也好，因为这里没有鸟蛋给他吃了。你知道吗，霍布森讨厌阿洛伊修斯。我希望我也有一个像你的校工那样的用人。今儿早晨他对我很和蔼，换了别人，可能对我很严厉。”
宴会的客人来齐了。其中有三位伊顿公学来的一年级学生，他们是温和、高雅、落落寡合的年青人，昨天晚上他们一道在伦敦参加了一个舞会，可是他们说起这件事来，仿佛是参加了一个对死者毫无感情的近亲的葬礼。每个人一进来就奔向鸟蛋，然后看看塞巴斯蒂安，又看看我，表现出客客气气的淡漠神气，仿佛说，“我们做梦也不敢冒昧地提醒你们，我们是初次见面。”
“今年头一次吃鸟蛋，”他们说。“你是打哪儿搞来的？”
“妈妈从布赖兹赫德庄园给我送来的。鸟儿总是早早地给她下蛋。”
吃完了鸟蛋，接着吃纽堡龙虾的时候，最后一个客人到了。
“亲爱的，”他说，“我一直走不开。我正在和我的古——古——古怪的导师共进午餐。我走的时候，他奇怪我为什么要离开他。我告诉他，我得回去换衣服踢——踢——踢足球。”
来人瘦高个儿，皮肤微黑，有一双漂亮的眼睛。我们这些人穿着粗花呢衣服和乡下人穿的结实皮鞋，而他穿了一套黑褐色带过分花哨的白条纹的衣服，一双小山羊皮鞋，打一个蝴蝶领结，一进房门就脱下黄软皮手套。他有点像法国人，又有点像美国佬，也许，还有点儿犹太人的味儿；完全是异国情调。
这人不用我说，是安东尼·布兰奇，一个“杰出的唯美主义者”，这个恶毒的绰号从切尔韦尔河畔一直叫到萨莫维尔城。当他神气活现、趾高气扬地走在大街上时，人们曾多次指给我看。在乔治教堂，我听到他旁若无人地大声嚷嚷向陈规旧习挑战，这会儿遇见他，受到塞巴斯蒂安的强烈影响，我发现自己也非常喜欢安东尼·布兰奇了。
吃完午饭，布兰奇拿了个意外出现在塞巴斯蒂安房间的古董中间的喇叭筒，站在阳台上，用喇叭筒冲着那群正要去泰晤士河边的、穿着厚运动衫、闷声不响的人，用疲惫的声音朗诵了《荒原》中的几段。
“我，帖瑞西斯，早就受尽了苦难，”他站在威尼斯式拱门那儿向那些人哭
收听单词发音 |
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scents
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| n.香水( scent的名词复数 )；气味；（动物的）臭迹；（尤指狗的）嗅觉 | |
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scent
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| n.气味，香味，香水，线索，嗅觉；v.嗅，发觉 | |
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peculiar
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| adj.古怪的，异常的；特殊的，特有的 | |
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Oxford
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| n.牛津（英国城市） | |
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merged
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| （使）混合( merge的过去式和过去分词 )； 相融； 融入； 渐渐消失在某物中 | |
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obliterated
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| v.除去( obliterate的过去式和过去分词 )；涂去；擦掉；彻底破坏或毁灭 | |
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spacious
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| adj.广阔的，宽敞的 | |
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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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chestnut
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| n.栗树，栗子 | |
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exhaled
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| v.呼出，发散出( exhale的过去式和过去分词 )；吐出（肺中的空气、烟等），呼气 | |
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cloistral
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| adj.修道院的，隐居的，孤独的 | |
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hush
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| int.嘘，别出声；n.沉默，静寂；v.使安静 | |
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resonance
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| n.洪亮；共鸣；共振 | |
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joyously
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| ad.快乐地, 高兴地 | |
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discordantly
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| adv.不一致地，不和谐地 | |
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rabble
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| n.乌合之众，暴民；下等人 | |
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herded
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| 群集，纠结( herd的过去式和过去分词 )； 放牧； （使）向…移动 | |
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barges
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| 驳船( barge的名词复数 ) | |
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facetious
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| adj.轻浮的，好开玩笑的 | |
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distressing
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| a.使人痛苦的 | |
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badinage
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| n.开玩笑，打趣 | |
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chapel
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| n.小教堂，殡仪馆 | |
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chapels
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| n.小教堂， （医院、监狱等的）附属礼拜堂( chapel的名词复数 )；（在小教堂和附属礼拜堂举行的）礼拜仪式 | |
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penetrated
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| adj. 击穿的，鞭辟入里的 动词penetrate的过去式和过去分词形式 | |
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disturbance
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| n.动乱，骚动；打扰，干扰；(身心)失调 | |
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quad
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| n.四方院；四胞胎之一；v.在…填补空铅 | |
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lodge
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| v.临时住宿，寄宿，寄存，容纳；n.传达室，小旅馆 | |
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outrage
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| n.暴行，侮辱，愤怒；vt.凌辱，激怒 | |
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scout
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| n.童子军，侦察员；v.侦察，搜索 | |
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despondently
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luncheon
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| n.午宴，午餐，便宴 | |
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flannel
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| n.法兰绒；法兰绒衣服 | |
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chateau
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| n.城堡，别墅 | |
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sloth
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| n.[动]树懒；懒惰，懒散 | |
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undone
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| a.未做完的，未完成的 | |
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Undid
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| v. 解开, 复原 | |
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knoll
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| n.小山，小丘 | |
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clump
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| n.树丛，草丛；vi.用沉重的脚步行走 | |
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fumes
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| n.(强烈而刺激的)气味，气体 | |
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miserable
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| adj.悲惨的，痛苦的；可怜的，糟糕的 | |
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41
detailed
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| adj.详细的，详尽的，极注意细节的，完全的 | |
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eschewed
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| v.（尤指为道德或实际理由而）习惯性避开，回避( eschew的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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43
warden
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| n.监察员，监狱长，看守人，监护人 | |
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44
immortality
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| n.不死，不朽 | |
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45
deliberately
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| adv.审慎地；蓄意地；故意地 | |
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46
judicious
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| adj.明智的，明断的，能作出明智决定的 | |
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47
facetiously
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| adv.爱开玩笑地；滑稽地，爱开玩笑地 | |
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48
appreciable
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| adj.明显的，可见的，可估量的，可觉察的 | |
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49
anchovy
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| n.凤尾鱼 | |
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50
walnut
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| n.胡桃，胡桃木，胡桃色，茶色 | |
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51
perfectly
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| adv.完美地，无可非议地，彻底地 | |
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52
grid
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| n.高压输电线路网；地图坐标方格；格栅 | |
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53
undesirable
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| adj.不受欢迎的，不良的，不合意的，讨厌的；n.不受欢迎的人，不良分子 | |
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54
steer
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| vt.驾驶，为…操舵；引导；vi.驾驶 | |
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55
recessed
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| v.把某物放在墙壁的凹处( recess的过去式和过去分词 )；将（墙）做成凹形，在（墙）上做壁龛；休息，休会，休庭 | |
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56
freshman
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| n.大学一年级学生(可兼指男女) | |
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57
undesirables
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| 不受欢迎的人，不良分子( undesirable的名词复数 ) | |
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58
fragrance
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| n.芬芳，香味，香气 | |
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59
precocity
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| n.早熟，早成 | |
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60
innocence
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| n.无罪；天真；无害 | |
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61
tamper
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| v.干预，玩弄，贿赂，窜改，削弱，损害 | |
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62
stature
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| n.（高度）水平，（高度）境界，身高，身材 | |
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63
porcelain
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| n.瓷；adj.瓷的，瓷制的 | |
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64
tapers
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| （长形物体的）逐渐变窄( taper的名词复数 )； 微弱的光； 极细的蜡烛 | |
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65
eminent
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| adj.显赫的，杰出的，有名的，优良的 | |
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66
sinister
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| adj.不吉利的，凶恶的，左边的 | |
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67
embryo
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| n.胚胎，萌芽的事物 | |
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68
flamboyant
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| adj.火焰般的，华丽的，炫耀的 | |
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69
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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70
lodging
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| n.寄宿，住所；(大学生的)校外宿舍 | |
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71
par
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| n.标准，票面价值，平均数量；adj.票面的，平常的，标准的 | |
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72
highland
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| n.(pl.)高地，山地 | |
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73
misty
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| adj.雾蒙蒙的，有雾的 | |
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74
aesthetics
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| n.(尤指艺术方面之)美学，审美学 | |
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75
loyalty
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| n.忠诚，忠心 | |
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76
conspicuous
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| adj.明眼的，惹人注目的；炫耀的，摆阔气的 | |
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77
eccentricities
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| n.古怪行为( eccentricity的名词复数 )；反常；怪癖 | |
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78
spanking
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| adj.强烈的，疾行的；n.打屁股 | |
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79
engraved
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| v.在（硬物）上雕刻（字，画等）( engrave的过去式和过去分词 )；将某事物深深印在（记忆或头脑中） | |
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80
soften
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| v.(使)变柔软；(使)变柔和 | |
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81
propitious
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| adj.吉利的；顺利的 | |
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82
uncommon
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| adj.罕见的，非凡的，不平常的 | |
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83
bibulous
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| adj.高度吸收的，酗酒的 | |
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84
formerly
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| adv.从前，以前 | |
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85
tariff
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| n.关税，税率；(旅馆、饭店等)价目表，收费表 | |
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86
extremity
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| n.末端，尽头；尽力；终极；极度 | |
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87
amiable
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| adj.和蔼可亲的，友善的，亲切的 | |
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88
grievance
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| n.怨愤，气恼，委屈 | |
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89
jugs
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| （有柄及小口的）水壶( jug的名词复数 ) | |
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90
vessel
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| n.船舶；容器，器皿；管，导管，血管 | |
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91
secreting
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| v.（尤指动物或植物器官）分泌( secrete的现在分词 )；隐匿，隐藏 | |
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92
contrite
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| adj.悔悟了的，后悔的，痛悔的 | |
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93
epoch
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| n.(新)时代；历元 | |
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94
apprehension
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| n.理解，领悟；逮捕，拘捕；忧虑 | |
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95
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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96
moss
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| n.苔，藓，地衣 | |
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97
withers
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| 马肩隆 | |
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98
jumble
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| vt.使混乱，混杂；n.混乱；杂乱的一堆 | |
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99
dome
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| n.圆屋顶，拱顶 | |
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100
austere
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| adj.艰苦的；朴素的，朴实无华的；严峻的 | |
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101
freshmen
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| n.（中学或大学的）一年级学生( freshman的名词复数 ) | |
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102
kinsman
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| n.男亲属 | |
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103
lobster
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| n.龙虾，龙虾肉 | |
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104
saucy
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| adj.无礼的；俊俏的；活泼的 | |
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105
excellence
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| n.优秀，杰出，(pl.)优点，美德 | |
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106
iniquity
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| n.邪恶；不公正 | |
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107
pointed
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| adj.尖的，直截了当的 | |
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108
pranced
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| v.（马）腾跃( prance的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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109
voraciously
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| adv.贪婪地 | |
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110
languishing
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| a. 衰弱下去的 | |
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111
muffled
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| adj.（声音）被隔的；听不太清的；（衣服）裹严的；蒙住的v.压抑，捂住( muffle的过去式和过去分词 )；用厚厚的衣帽包着（自己） | |
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112
throng
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| n.人群，群众；v.拥挤，群集 | |
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113
sobbed
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| 哭泣，啜泣( sob的过去式和过去分词 )； 哭诉，呜咽地说 | |
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114
sipping
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| v.小口喝，呷，抿( sip的现在分词 ) | |
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115
warrior
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| n.勇士，武士，斗士 | |
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116
complimentary
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| adj.赠送的，免费的，赞美的，恭维的 | |
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117
lurk
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| n.潜伏，潜行；v.潜藏，潜伏，埋伏 | |
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118
burrow
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| vt.挖掘(洞穴)；钻进；vi.挖洞；翻寻；n.地洞 | |
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119
ivy
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| n.常青藤，常春藤 | |
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120
jejune
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| adj.枯燥无味的，贫瘠的 | |
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121
walnuts
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| 胡桃（树）( walnut的名词复数 )； 胡桃木 | |
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122
wrought
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| v.引起；以…原料制作；运转；adj.制造的 | |
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123
lodges
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| v.存放( lodge的第三人称单数 )；暂住；埋入；（权利、权威等）归属 | |
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124
receding
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| v.逐渐远离( recede的现在分词 )；向后倾斜；自原处后退或避开别人的注视；尤指问题 | |
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125
ominous
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| adj.不祥的，不吉的，预兆的，预示的 | |
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126
vaulted
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| adj.拱状的 | |
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127
linoleum
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| n.油布，油毯 | |
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128
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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129
crimson
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| n./adj.深(绯)红色(的)；vi.脸变绯红色 | |
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130
obelisk
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| n.方尖塔 | |
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131
repose
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| v.(使)休息；n.安息 | |
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132
serene
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| adj. 安详的，宁静的，平静的 | |
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133
enjoyment
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| n.乐趣；享有；享用 | |
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134
witty
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| adj.机智的，风趣的 | |
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135
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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136
nun
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| n.修女，尼姑 | |
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137
lava
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| n.熔岩，火山岩 | |
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138
alabaster
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| adj.雪白的；n.雪花石膏；条纹大理石 | |
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139
gilt
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| adj.镀金的；n.金边证券 | |
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140
shutters
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| 百叶窗( shutter的名词复数 )； （照相机的）快门 | |
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141
mellow
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| adj.柔和的；熟透的；v.变柔和；(使)成熟 | |
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142
coved
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| v.小海湾( cove的过去分词 )；家伙 | |
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143
frescoed
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| 壁画( fresco的名词复数 )； 温壁画技法，湿壁画 | |
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144
deities
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| n.神，女神( deity的名词复数 )；神祗；神灵；神明 | |
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145
ballroom
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| n.舞厅 | |
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146
colonnade
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| n.柱廊 | |
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147
genuflected
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| v.屈膝（尤指宗教礼节中）( genuflect的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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148
gutted
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| adj.容易消化的v.毁坏（建筑物等）的内部( gut的过去式和过去分词 )；取出…的内脏 | |
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149
armour
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| （=armor）n.盔甲；装甲部队 | |
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150
sanctuary
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| n.圣所，圣堂，寺庙；禁猎区，保护区 | |
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151
patina
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| n.铜器上的绿锈，年久而产生的光泽 | |
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152
chauffeur
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| n.(受雇于私人或公司的)司机；v.为…开车 | |
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153
imperatives
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| n.必要的事( imperative的名词复数 )；祈使语气；必须履行的责任 | |
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154
champagne
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| n.香槟酒；微黄色 | |
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155
petulantly
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156
inquisitive
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| adj.求知欲强的，好奇的，好寻根究底的 | |
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157
furtive
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| adj.鬼鬼崇崇的，偷偷摸摸的 | |
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158
irritability
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| n.易怒 | |
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159
possessed
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| adj.疯狂的；拥有的，占有的 | |
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160
trout
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| n.鳟鱼；鲑鱼(属) | |
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161
middle-aged
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| adj.中年的 | |
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162
infantry
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| n.[总称]步兵(部队) | |
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