david copperfield(大卫.科波维尔)-第5节
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circumstances。 There cannot be any objection to your seeing her
Charles Dickens ElecBook Classics
David Copperfield
presently； ma’am。 It may do her good。’
‘And she。 How is she？’ said my aunt； sharply。
Mr。 Chillip laid his head a little more on one side； and looked at
my aunt like an amiable bird。
‘The baby；’ said my aunt。 ‘How is she？’
‘Ma’am；’ returned Mr。 Chillip； ‘I apprehended you had known。
It’s a boy。’
My aunt said never a word； but took her bonnet by the strings；
in the manner of a sling； aimed a blow at Mr。 Chillip’s head with it；
put it on bent； walked out； and never came back。 She vanished like
a discontented fairy； or like one of those supernatural beings；
whom it was popularly supposed I was entitled to see； and never
came back any more。
No。 I lay in my basket； and my mother lay in her bed； but
Betsey Trotwood Copperfield was for ever in the land of dreams
and shadows； the tremendous region whence I had so lately
travelled； and the light upon the window of our room shone out
upon the earthly bourne of all such travellers； and the mound
above the ashes and the dust that once was he； without whom I
had never been。
Charles Dickens ElecBook Classics
David Copperfield
Chapter 2
I OBSERVE
The first objects that assume a distinct presence before me；
as I look far back； into the blank of my infancy； are my
mother with her pretty hair and youthful shape； and
Peggotty with no shape at all； and eyes so dark that they seemed to
darken their whole neighbourhood in her face； and cheeks and
arms so hard and red that I wondered the birds didn’t peck her in
preference to apples。
I believe I can remember these two at a little distance apart；
dwarfed to my sight by stooping down or kneeling on the floor；
and I going unsteadily from the one to the other。 I have an
impression on my mind which I cannot distinguish from actual
remembrance； of the touch of Peggotty’s forefinger as she used to
hold it out to me； and of its being roughened by needlework； like a
pocket nutmeg…grater。
This may be fancy； though I think the memory of most of us can
go farther back into such times than many of us suppose； just as I
believe the power of observation in numbers of very young
children to be quite wonderful for its closeness and accuracy。
Indeed； I think that most grown men who are remarkable in this
respect； may with greater propriety be said not to have lost the
faculty； than to have acquired it； the rather； as I generally observe
such men to retain a certain freshness； and gentleness； and
capacity of being pleased； which are also an inheritance they have
preserved from their childhood。
Charles Dickens ElecBook Classics
David Copperfield
I might have a misgiving that I am ‘meandering’ in stopping to
say this； but that it brings me to remark that I build these
conclusions； in part upon my own experience of myself； and if it
should appear from anything I may set down in this narrative that
I was a child of close observation； or that as a man I have a strong
memory of my childhood； I undoubtedly lay claim to both of these
characteristics。
Looking back； as I was saying； into the blank of my infancy； the
first objects I can remember as standing out by themselves from a
confusion of things； are my mother and Peggotty。 What else do I
remember？ Let me see。
There comes out of the cloud； our house—not new to me； but
quite familiar； in its earliest remembrance。 On the ground…floor is
Peggotty’s kitchen； opening into a back yard； with a pigeon…house
on a pole； in the centre； without any pigeons in it； a great dog…
kennel in a corner； without any dog； and a quantity of fowls that
look terribly tall to me； walking about； in a menacing and ferocious
manner。 There is one cock who gets upon a post to crow； and
seems to take particular notice of me as I look at him through the
kitchen window； who makes me shiver； he is so fierce。 Of the geese
outside the side…gate who come waddling after me with their long
necks stretched out when I go that way； I dream at night： as a man
environed by wild beasts might dream of lions。
Here is a long passage—what an enormous perspective I make
of it！—leading from Peggotty’s kitchen to the front door。 A dark
store…room opens out of it； and that is a place to be run past at
night； for I don’t know what may be among those tubs and jars
and old tea…chests； when there is nobody in there with a dimly…
burning light； letting a mouldy air come out of the door； in which
Charles Dickens ElecBook Classics
David Copperfield
there is the smell of soap； pickles； pepper； candles； and coffee； all
at one whiff。 Then there are the two parlours： the parlour in which
we sit of an evening； my mother and I and Peggotty—for Peggotty
is quite our companion； when her work is done and we are alone—
and the best parlour where we sit on a Sunday； grandly； but not so
comfortably。 There is something of a doleful air about that room to
me； for Peggotty has told me—I don’t know when； but apparently
ages ago—about my father’s funeral； and the company having
their black cloaks put on。 One Sunday night my mother reads to
Peggotty and me in there； how Lazarus was raised up from the
dead。 And I am so frightened that they are afterwards obliged to
take me out of bed； and show me the quiet churchyard out of the
bedroom window； with the dead all lying in their graves at rest；
below the solemn moon。
There is nothing half so green that I know anywhere； as the
grass of that churchyard； nothing half so shady as its trees；
nothing half so quiet as its tombstones。 The sheep are feeding
there； when I kneel up； early in the morning； in my little bed in a
closet within my mother’s room； to look out at it； and I see the red
light shining on the sun…dial； and think within myself； ‘Is the sundial glad； I wonder； that it can tell the time again？’
Here is our pew in the church。 What a high…backed pew！ With a
window near it； out of which our house can be seen； and is seen
many times during the morning’s service； by Peggotty； who likes
to make herself as sure as she can that it’s not being robbed； or is
not in flames。 But though Peggotty’s eye wanders； she is much
offended if mine does； and frowns to me； as I stand upon the seat；
that I am to look at the clergyman。 But I can’t always look at him—
I know him without that white thing on； and I am afraid of his
Charles Dickens ElecBook Classics
David Copperfield
wondering why I stare so； and perhaps stopping the service to
inquire—and what am I to do？ It’s a dreadful thing to gape； but I
must do something。 I look at my mother； but she pretends not to
see me。 I look at a boy in the aisle； and he makes faces at me。 I
look at the sunlight coming in at the open door through the porch；
and there I see a stray sheep—I don’t mean a sinner； but mutton—
half making up his mind to come into the church。 I feel that if I
looked at him any longer； I might be tempted to say something out
loud； and what would become of me then！ I look up at the
monumental tablets on the wall； and try to think of Mr。 Bodgers
late of this parish； and what the feelings of Mrs。 Bodgers must
have been； when affliction sore； long time Mr。 Bodgers bore； and
physicians were in vain。 I wonder whether they called in Mr。
Chillip； and he was in vain； and if so； how he likes to be reminded
of it once a week。 I look from Mr。 Chillip； in his Sunday neckcloth；
to the pulpit； and think what a good place it would be to play in；
and what a castle it would make； with another boy coming up the
stairs to attack it； and having the velvet cushion with the tassels
thrown down on his head。 In time my eyes gradually shut up； and；
from seeming to hear the clergyman singing a drowsy song in the
heat； I hear nothing； until I fall off the seat with a crash； and am
taken out； more dead than alive； by Peggotty。
And now I see the outside of our house； with the latticed
bedroom…windows standing open to let in the sweet…smelling air；
and the ragged old rooks’…nests still dangling in the elm…trees at
the bottom of the front garden。 Now I am in the garden at the
back； beyond the yard where the empty pigeon…house and dog…
kennel are—a very preserve of butterflies； as I remember it； with a
high fence； and a gate and padlock； where the fruit clusters on the
Charles Dickens ElecBook Classics
David Copperfield
trees； riper and richer than fruit has ever been since； in any other
garden； and where my mother gathers some in a basket； while I
stand by； bolting furtive gooseberries； and trying to look unmoved。
A great wind rises； and the summer is gone in a moment。 We are
playing in the winter twilight； dancing about the parlour。 When
my mother is out of breath and rests herself in an elbow…chair； I
watch her winding her bright curls round her fingers； and
straitening her waist； and nobody knows better than I do that she
likes to look so well； and is proud of being so pretty。
That is among my very ear
