castle rackrent(拉克伦特堡)-第1节
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Castle Rackrent
Castle Rackrent
By Maria Edgeworth
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Castle Rackrent
INTRODUCTION
I
The story of the Edgeworth Family； if it were properly told； should be
as long as the ARABIAN NIGHTS themselves； the thousand and one
cheerful intelligent members of the circle； the amusing friends and
relations； the charming surroundings； the cheerful hospitable home； all go
to make up an almost unique history of a county family of great parts and
no little character。 The Edgeworths were people of good means and
position； and their rental； we are told； amounted to nearly L3000 a year。
At one time there was some talk of a peerage for Mr。 Edgeworth； but he
was considered too independent for a peerage。
The family tradition seems to have been unconventional and spirited
always。 There are records still extant in the present Mr。 Edgeworth's
possession；papers of most wonderful vitality for parchment；where you
may read passionate remonstrances and adjurations from great…
grandfathers to great…great…grandfathers； and where great…great…
grandmothers rush into the discussion with vehement spelling and
remonstrance； and make matters no better by their interference。 I never
read more passionately eloquent letters and appeals。 There are also
records of a pleasanter nature； merrymakings； and festive preparations；
and 12s。 6d。 for a pair of silk stockings for Miss Margaret Edgeworth to
dance in； carefully entered into the family budget。 All the people whose
portraits are hanging up； beruffled； dignified； calm； and periwigged； on the
old walls of Edgeworthstown certainly had extraordinarily strong
impressions； and gave eloquent expression to them。 I don't think people
could feel quite so strongly now about their own affairs as they did then；
there are so many printed emotions； so many public events； that private
details cannot seem quite as important。 Edgeworths of those days were
farther away from the world than they are now； dwelling in the plains of
Longford； which as yet were not crossed by iron rails。 The family seems to
have made little of distances； and to have ridden and posted to and fro
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from Dublin to Edgeworthstown in storm and sunshine。
II
When Messrs。 Macmillan asked me to write a preface to this new
edition of Miss Edgeworth's stories I thought I should like to see the place
where she had lived so long and where she had written so much； and so it
happened that being in Ireland early this year； my daughter and I found
ourselves driving up to Broadstone Station one morning in time for the
early train to Edgeworthstown。 As we got out of our cab we asked the
driver what the fare should be。 'Sure the fare is half a crown；' said he；
'and if you wish to give me more； I could keep it for myself！'
The train was starting and we bought our papers to beguile the road。
'Will you have a Home Rule paper or one of them others？' said the
newsboy； with such a droll emphasis that we couldn't help laughing。
'Give me one of each；' said I； then he laughed； as no English newsboy
would have done。 。 。 。 We went along in the car with a sad couple of people
out of a hospital； compatriots of our own； who had been settled ten years
in Ireland； and were longing to be away。 The poor things were past
consolation； dull； despairing； ingrained English； sick and suffering and
yearning for Brixton； just as other aliens long for their native hills and
moors。 We travelled along together all that spring morning by the
blossoming hedges； and triumphal arches of flowering May； the hills were
very far away； but the lovely lights and scents were all about and made our
journey charming。 Maynooth was a fragrant vision as we flew past； of
vast gardens wall…enclosed； of stately buildings。 The whole line of
railway was sweet with the May flowers； and with the pungent and
refreshing scent of the turf… bogs。 The air was so clear and so limpid that
we could see for miles； and short…sighted eyes needed no glasses to admire
with。 Here and there a turf cabin； now and then a lake placidly reflecting
the sky。 The country seemed given over to silence； the light sped
unheeded across the delicate browns and greens of the bog…fields； or lay
on the sweet wonderful green of the meadows。 One dazzling field we
saw full of dancing circles of little fairy pigs with curly tails。 Everything
was homelike but NOT England； there was something of France；
something of Italy in the sky； in the fanciful tints upon the land and sea； in
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the vastness of the picture； in the happy sadness and calm content which is
so difficult to describe or to account for。 Finally we reached our
journey's end。 It gave one a real emotion to see EDGEWORTHSTOWN
written up on the board before us； and to realise that we were following in
the steps of those giants who had passed before us。 The master of
Edgeworthstown kindly met us and drove us to his home through the
outlying village； shaded with its sycamores； underneath which pretty cows
were browsing the grass。 We passed the Roman Catholic Church； the
great iron crucifix standing in the churchyard。 Then the horses turned in
at the gate of the park； and there rose the old home； so exactly like what
one expected it； that I felt as if I had been there before in some other phase
of existence。
It is certainly a tradition in the family to welcome travellers！ I thought
of the various memoirs I had read； of the travellers arriving from the North
and the South and the West； of Scott and Lockhart； of Pictet； of the
Ticknors； of the many visitants who had come up in turn； whether it is the
year 14； or the year 94； the hospitable doors open kindly to admit them。
There were the French windows reaching to the ground； through which
Maria used to pass on her way to gather her roses； there was the porch
where Walter Scott had stood； there grew the quaint old…fashioned bushes
with the great pink peonies in flower； by those railings which still divide
the park from the meadows beyond； there spread the branches of the
century…old trees。 Only last winter they told us the storms came and
swept away a grove of Beeches that were known in all the country round；
but how much of shade； of flower； still remain！ The noble Hawthorn of
stately growth； the pine…trees （there should be NAMES for trees； as there
are for rocks or ancient strongholds）。 Mr。 Edgeworth showed us the oak
from Jerusalem； the grove of cypress and sycamore where the beautiful
depths of ground ivy are floating upon the DEBRIS； and soften the
gnarled roots； while they flood the rising banks with green。
Mr。 and Mrs。 Edgeworth brought us into the house。 The ways go
upstairs and downstairs； by winding passages and side gates； a pretty
domed staircase starts from the central hall； where stands that old clock…
case which Maria wound up when she was over eighty years old。 To the
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right and to the left along the passages were rooms opening from one into
another。 I could imagine Sir Walter's kind eyes looking upon the scene；
and Wordsworth coming down the stai
