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第34节

lay morals-第34节

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eir profession was forgotten  in their electorship。  Politics had engulfed the narrower  economy of grave…digging。  'Na; na;' said the one; 'ye're a'  wrang。'  'The English and Irish Churches;' answered the  other; in a tone as if he had made the remark before; and it  had been called in question … 'The English and Irish Churches  have IMPOVERISHED the country。'

'Such are the results of education;' thought I as I passed  beside them and came fairly among the tombs。  Here; at least;  there were no commonplace politics; no diluted this…morning's  leader; to distract or offend me。  The old shabby church  showed; as usual; its quaint extent of roofage and the  relievo skeleton on one gable; still blackened with the fire  of thirty years ago。  A chill dank mist lay over all。  The  Old Greyfriars' churchyard was in perfection that morning;  and one could go round and reckon up the associations with no  fear of vulgar interruption。  On this stone the Covenant was  signed。  In that vault; as the story goes; John Knox took  hiding in some Reformation broil。  From that window Burke the  murderer looked out many a time across the tombs; and perhaps  o' nights let himself down over the sill to rob some new…made  grave。  Certainly he would have a selection here。  The very  walks have been carried over forgotten resting…places; and  the whole ground is uneven; because (as I was once quaintly  told) 'when the wood rots it stands to reason the soil should  fall in;' which; from the law of gravitation; is certainly  beyond denial。  But it is round the boundary that there are  the finest tombs。  The whole irregular space is; as it were;  fringed with quaint old monuments; rich in death's…heads and  scythes and hour…glasses; and doubly rich in pious epitaphs  and Latin mottoes … rich in them to such an extent that their  proper space has run over; and they have crawled end…long up  the shafts of columns and ensconced themselves in all sorts  of odd corners among the sculpture。  These tombs raise their  backs against the rabble of squalid dwelling…houses; and  every here and there a clothes…pole projects between two  monuments its fluttering trophy of white and yellow and red。   With a grim irony they recall the banners in the Invalides;  banners as appropriate perhaps over the sepulchres of tailors  and weavers as these others above the dust of armies。  Why  they put things out to dry on that particular morning it was  hard to imagine。  The grass was grey with drops of rain; the  headstones black with moisture。  Yet; in despite of weather  and common sense; there they hung between the tombs; and  beyond them I could see through open windows into miserable  rooms where whole families were born and fed; and slept and  died。  At one a girl sat singing merrily with her back to the  graveyard; and from another came the shrill tones of a  scolding woman。  Every here and there was a town garden full  of sickly flowers; or a pile of crockery inside upon the  window…seat。  But you do not grasp the full connection  between these houses of the dead and the living; the  unnatural marriage of stately sepulchres and squalid houses;  till; lower down; where the road has sunk far below the  surface of the cemetery; and the very roofs are scarcely on a  level with its wall; you observe that a proprietor has taken  advantage of a tall monument and trained a chimney…stack  against its back。  It startles you to see the red; modern  pots peering over the shoulder of the tomb。

A man was at work on a grave; his spade clinking away the  drift of bones that permeates the thin brown soil; but my  first disappointment had taught me to expect little from  Greyfriars' sextons; and I passed him by in silence。  A  slater on the slope of a neighbouring roof eyed me curiously。   A lean black cat; looking as if it had battened on strange  meats; slipped past me。  A little boy at a window put his  finger to his nose in so offensive a manner that I was put  upon my dignity; and turned grandly off to read old epitaphs  and peer through the gratings into the shadow of vaults。

Just then I saw two women coming down a path; one of them  old; and the other younger; with a child in her arms。  Both  had faces eaten with famine and hardened with sin; and both  had reached that stage of degradation; much lower in a woman  than a man; when all care for dress is lost。  As they came  down they neared a grave; where some pious friend or relative  had laid a wreath of immortelles; and put a bell glass over  it; as is the custom。  The effect of that ring of dull yellow  among so many blackened and dusty sculptures was more  pleasant than it is in modern cemeteries; where every second  mound can boast a similar coronal; and here; where it was the  exception and not the rule; I could even fancy the drops of  moisture that dimmed the covering were the tears of those who  laid it where it was。  As the two women came up to it; one of  them kneeled down on the wet grass and looked long and  silently through the clouded shade; while the second stood  above her; gently oscillating to and fro to lull the muling  baby。  I was struck a great way off with something religious  in the attitude of these two unkempt and haggard women; and I  drew near faster; but still cautiously; to hear what they  were saying。  Surely on them the spirit of death and decay  had descended; I had no education to dread here: should I not  have a chance of seeing nature?  Alas! a pawnbroker could not  have been more practical and commonplace; for this was what  the kneeling woman said to the woman upright … this and  nothing more: 'Eh; what extravagance!'

O nineteenth century; wonderful art thou indeed … wonderful;  but wearisome in thy stale and deadly uniformity。  Thy men  are more like numerals than men。  They must bear their  idiosyncrasies or their professions written on a placard  about their neck; like the scenery in Shakespeare's theatre。   Thy precepts of economy have pierced into the lowest ranks of  life; and there is now a decorum in vice; a respectability  among the disreputable; a pure spirit of Philistinism among  the waifs and strays of thy Bohemia。  For lo! thy very  gravediggers talk politics; and thy castaways kneel upon new  graves; to discuss the cost of the monument and grumble at  the improvidence of love。

Such was the elegant apostrophe that I made as I went out of  the gates again; happily satisfied in myself; and feeling  that I alone of all whom I had seen was able to profit by the  silent poem of these green mounds and blackened headstones。

(1) RELIGIO MEDICI; Part ii。 (2) DUCHESS OF MALFI。



SKETCHES CHAPTER IV … NURSES



I KNEW one once; and the room where; lonely and old; she  waited for death。  It was pleasant enough; high up above the  lane; and looking forth upon a hill…side; covered all day  with sheets and yellow blankets; and with long lines of  underclothing fluttering between the battered posts。  There  were any number of cheap prints; and a drawing by one of 'her  children;' and there were flowers in the window; and a sickly  canary withered into consumption in an ornamental cage。  The  bed; with its checked coverlid; was in a closet。  A great  Bible lay on the table; and her drawers were full of  'scones;' which it was her pleasure to give to young visitors  such as I was then。

You may not think this a melancholy picture; but the canary;  and the cat; and the white mouse that she had for a while;  and that died; were all indications of the want that ate into  her heart。  I think I know a little of what that old woman  felt; and I am as sure as if I had seen her; that she sat  many an hour in silent tears; with the big Bible open before  her clouded eyes。

If you could look back upon her life; and feel the great  chain that had linked her to one child after another;  sometimes to be wrenched suddenly through; and sometimes;  which is infinitely worse; to be torn gradually off through  years of growing neglect; or perhaps growing dislike!  She  had; like the mother; overcome that natural repugnance …  repugnance which no man can conquer … towards the infirm and  helpless mass of putty of the earlier stage。  She had spent  her best and happiest years in tending; watching; and  learning to love like a mother this child; with which she has  no connection and to which she has no tie。  Perhaps she  refused some sweetheart (such things have been); or put him  off and off; until he lost heart and turned to some one else;  all for fear of leaving this creature that had wound itself  about her heart。  And the end of it all … her month's  warning; and a present perhaps; and the rest of the life to  vain regret。  Or; worse still; to see the child gradually  forgetting and forsaking her; fostered in disrespect and  neglect on the plea of growing manliness; and at last  beginning to treat her as a servant whom he had treated a few  years before as a mother。  She sees the Bible or the Psalm… book; which with gladness and love unutterable in her heart  she had bought for him years ago out of her slender savings;  neglected for some newer gift of his father; lying in dust in  the lumber…room or given away to a poor child; and the act  applauded for its unfeeling charity。  Little wonder if

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