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Mackery End in Hertfordshire
Bridget Elia has been my housekeeper for many a long year. I have obligations to Bridget, extending beyond the period of memory. We house together, old bachelor and maid, in a sort of double singleness; with such tolerable comfort, upon the whole, that I, for one, find in myself no sort of disposition to go out upon the mountains, with the rash king's offspring, to bewail my celibacy. We agree pretty well in our tastes and habit—yet so, as "with a difference. " We are generally in harmony, with occasional bickerings as it should be among near relations. Our sympathies are rather understood, than expressed; and once, upon my dissembling a tone in my voice more kind than ordinary, my cousin burst into tears, and complained that I was altered. We are both great readers in different directions. While I am hanging over （for the thousandth time）some passage in old Burton, or one of his strange contemporaries, she is abstracted in some modern tale, or adventure, whereof our common reading—table is daily fed with assiduously fresh supplies. Narrative teazes me. I have little concern in the progress of events. She must have a story—well, ill, or indifferently told—so there be life stirring in it, and plenty of good or evil accidents. The fluctuations of fortune in fiction—and almost in real life—have ceased to interest, or operate but dully upon me. Out—of—the—way humours and opinion—heads with some diverting twist in them—the oddities of authorship please me most. My cousin has a native disrelish of any thing that sounds odd or bizarre. Nothing goes down with her, that is quaint, irregular, or out of the road of common sympathy. She "holds Nature more clever. " I can pardon her blindness to the beautiful obliquities of the Religio Medici; but she must apologise to me for certain disrespectful insinuations, which she has been pleased to throw out latterly, touching the intellectuals of a dear favourite of mine, of the last century but one—the thrice noble, chaste, and virtuous, —but again somewhat fantastical, and original—brain'd, generous Margaret Newcastle.
布丽奇特·伊莱亚当我的管家已经有些年头了。我在记事之前就已经受到了她的照顾。我们一个是老单身汉，一个是老姑娘，两个单身的人住在一起。我们总体来说过得还算舒适，我个人也丝毫不想像那位鲁莽国王的后人一样，跑到山上去为自己的独身生活大哭一场。我们的品位和习惯大体合拍——不过，也有 “些微差别” 。总体来说，我们相处和谐，偶尔会发生些口角，在近亲之间也是常情。我们不必等对方开口，就能理解彼此的情感。有一次，我故意用比往常更友好的语气说话，我的堂姐听了潸然泪下，埋怨我变了。我们都爱读书，但各自喜好不同。我正欲罢不能地读着老伯顿或是他同时代的某位怪才的篇章时（这情形已有上千次了），她却被某个现代传说或探险故事吸引了去。我们都很勤勉，两人共用的书桌每天都堆满了新书。我受不了记叙文。我对情节发展没什么兴趣。但她必须看有故事情节的书——不管写得好，写得差，还是写得平平淡淡——只要里面写到生活中的纷扰，写到充足的好事或坏事就行。小说里命运的起落——甚至是现实生活中的——都已无法引起我的兴趣，只能给我带来一些模糊的影响。我最欣赏的还是独特的幽默和见地——奇思怪想的头脑——还有作者的奇谈怪论。我的堂姐天生讨厌任何听起来稀奇古怪的东西。那些离奇、异常、违背常理的东西统统不合她的胃口。她 “坚信自然至上” 。她对《医生的宗教》中的曲笔之美视而不见，这我就不计较了，但有一件事她得向我道歉。最近她对我最喜欢的一位文人不敬地含沙射影。这位文人是上上个世纪一位非常高贵、纯洁、善良，又有些奇思妙想、慷慨大方的玛格丽特·纽卡斯尔。
It has been the lot of my cousin, oftener perhaps than I could have wished, to have had for her associates and mine, free—thinkers, leaders, and disciples, of novel philosophies and systems; but she neither wrangles with, nor accepts, their opinions. That which was good and venerable to her, when a child, retains its authority over her mind still. She never juggles or plays tricks with her understanding.
也许是命运使然，堂姐和我结识了不少自由思想家，还有新哲学和新体系的领袖和信徒，接触之频繁让我觉得有些过了。但是，对于他们的观点，她既不反对，也不支持。她小时候所相信的正直、庄严的观念至今仍主宰着她的思想。她从不拿自己的思想来开玩笑、耍花招。
We are both of us inclined to be a little too positive; and I have observed the result of our disputes to be almost uniformly this—that in matters of fact, dates, and circumstances, it turns out, that I was in the right, and my cousin in the wrong. But where we have differed upon moral points; upon something proper to be done, or let alone; whatever heat of opposition, or steadiness of conviction, I set out with, I am sure always, in the long run, to be brought over to her way of thinking.
我们俩都是有些自负的人。我发觉，我们每次争执的结果都几乎千篇一律——争执内容涉及事实、日期和情形时，最后对的总是我，错的总是我堂姐。但若是我们在道德问题上起了纷争，或是因某事该不该做而发生冲突，那么不管我起初多么强烈地反对，信心多么坚定，最后总是会屈从于她的思维方式。
I must touch upon the foibles of my kinswoman with a gentle hand, for Bridget does not like to be told of her faults. She hath an awkward trick （to say no worse of it）of reading in company: at which times she will answer yes or no to a question, without fully understanding its purport—which is provoking, and derogatory in the highest degree to the dignity of the putter of the said question. Her presence of mind is equal to the most pressing trials of life, but will sometimes desert her upon trifling occasions. When the purpose requires it, and is a thing of moment, she can speak to it greatly; but in matters which are not stuff of the conscience, she hath been known sometimes to let slip a word less seasonably. Her education in youth was not much attended to; and she happily missed all that train of female garniture, which passeth by the name of accomplishments. She was tumbled early, by accident or design, into a spacious closet of good old English reading, without much selection or prohibition, and browsed at will upon that fair and wholesome pasturage. Had I twenty girls, they should be brought up exactly in this fashion. I know not whether their chance in wedlock might not be diminished by it; but I can answer for it, that it makes （if the worst come to the worst）most incomparable old maids.
提起我这位女亲戚的缺点，我必须十分委婉，因为布丽奇特不喜欢别人指出她的毛病。别的不提，就说她喜欢当着别人的面读书的怪习惯吧：这种时候，她往往还没完全弄明白人家的意思，就用是或否作答。这对提问者来说是一种冒犯，而且也极大地伤害了人家的自尊。她在人生最紧要的关头可以镇定自若，但有时遇着琐碎小事，她的镇定却弃她而去了。要是万不得已又事关重大，她能说得头头是道。但要是谈论的问题和道德无关，她就会时不时地冒出些不太合时宜的话来。她年轻时没怎么受过教育，而妇女那一套以多才多艺的名义流传的规矩她也一概幸免。不知是无心还是有意，她小时候曾撞进一间大藏书室，里面全是古老的英文好书。于是，她便尽情地在这美丽鲜嫩的草场里大饱口福，不加选择也不受节制。我要是有二十个女儿，个个都要不打折扣地用这种方式培养。我不敢说她们的婚姻是否会因此而受到不良影响。但是，我敢肯定，这种方法培养出来的（若是往最坏的方面想）老姑娘肯定是卓尔不凡的。
In a season of distress, she is the truest comforter; but in the teazing accidents, and minor perplexities, which do not call out the will to meet them, she sometimes maketh matters worse by an excess of participation. If she does not always divide your trouble upon the pleasanter occasions of life she is sure always to treble your satisfaction. She is excellent to be at a play with, or upon a visit; but best, when she goes a journey with you.
痛苦的时候，她是你最真诚的慰藉。但若是遇到小麻烦或小困惑，本来你也用不着发挥意志力来应付，可有时她也要过多地干涉，把事情弄得更糟。虽说她不能时时为你分忧，但生活中要有什么乐事，她肯定能让你获得三倍的满足感。和她一起看戏剧或出访确实很妙，但最妙的还是与她一同出游。
We made an excursion together a few summers since, into Hertfordshire, to heat up the quarters of some of our less—known relations in that fine corn country.
几年前的一个夏天，我们曾一起到赫特福德郡远足。我们在那个盛产谷物的美丽乡村拜访了几位远房亲戚。
The oldest thing I remember is Mackery End; or Mackarel End, as it is spelt, perhaps more properly, in some old maps of Hertfordshire; a farmhouse, delightfully situated within a gentle walk from Wheathampstead. I can just remember having been there, on a visit to a great—aunt, when I was a child, under the care of Bridget; who, as I have said, is older than myself by some ten years. I wish that I could throw into a heap the remainder of our joint existences, that we might share them in equal division. But that is impossible. The house was at that time in the occupation of a substantial yeoman, who had married my grandmother's sister. His name was Gladman. My grandmother was a Bruton, married to a Field. The Gladmans and the Brutons are still flourishing in that part of the county, but the Fields are almost extinct. More than forty years had elapsed since the visit I speak of; and, for the greater portion of that period, we had lost sight of the other two branches also. Who or what sort of persons inherited Mackery End—kindred or strange folk—we were afraid almost to conjecture, but determined some way to explore.
我最早的记忆里就有麦考利村头，或者是叫麦卡利尔村头——也许这个叫法更合适，赫特福德郡的一些老地图上就是这么写的。那是一座可爱的农舍，从那儿再走一小段路就能到威桑普斯泰德。我只记得自己小时候曾去那里拜访过一位姨婆，是布丽奇特带我去的。就像我说过的那样，她大概比我要大上十岁。我希望能把我们两人的余年合在一起，然后两人平分，一起度过。但这是不可能的。当年这座农舍里住的是一个家境殷实的农民，他娶了我外祖母的妹妹。他姓格莱德曼。我外祖母姓布鲁顿，嫁到了菲尔德家。在那一带乡间，格莱德曼和布鲁顿家人丁依然兴旺，但菲尔德家几乎要绝后了。我提到的那次造访离现在已经有四十余年了。这期间的大部分时间里，我们和那另外两家也没再来往过。我们几乎不敢猜测是谁或是什么样的人继承了麦考利村头的农舍——是亲戚还是陌生人。但是，我们决心设法打探一下。
By somewhat a circuitous route, taking the noble park at Luton in our way from Saint Alban's, we arrived at the spot of our anxious curiosity about noon. The sight of the old farm—house, though every trace of it was effaced from my recollection, affected me with a pleasure which I had not experienced for many a year. For though I had forgotten it, we had never forgotten being there together, and we had been talking about Mackery End all our lives, till memory on my part became mocked with a phantom of itself, and I thought I knew the aspect of a place, which, when Present, O how unlike it was to that, which I had conjured up so many times instead of it!
我们从圣阿尔班出发，走了一条弯弯曲曲的路，经过贵气十足的鲁顿公园，终于在中午时分到达了让我们好奇又热切想要到达的地方。虽然老农舍的样子我已忘得一干二净，但它重现眼前时，我还是感到了一种多年不曾感受到的愉悦之情。因为我虽不记得农舍的样子了，但我俩从没忘记我们曾一起到过那里，而且后来我们也经常谈起麦考利村头，谈得我的记忆与农舍的幻想都混在一起，让我误以为自己对它熟然于心。但是，现在亲眼见到麦考利——噢，它与我想象中的竟是那样不同，我那一次次的幻想竟都是错误的！
Still the air breathed balmily about it; the season was in the "heart of June, " and I could say with the poet, But thou, that didst appear so fair To fond imagination, Dost rival in the light of day Her delicate creation! Bridget's was more a waking bliss than mine, for she easily remembered her old acquaintance again—some altered features, of course, a little grudged at. At first, indeed, she was ready to disbelieve for joy; but the scene soon re—confirmed itself in her affection—and she traversed every out—post of the old mansion, to the wood—house, the orchard, the place where the pigeon—house had stood （house and birds were alike flown）—with a breathless impatience of recognition, which was more pardonable perhaps than decorous at the age of fifty odd. But Bridget in some things is behind her years.
农舍周围的空气仍旧馥郁芬芳。那时正值六月中旬，我恰可以与诗人一同吟诵：但是你啊，如此美丽可人，在美妙的幻影里。堪比白日阳光之下，那娇弱的景象！布丽奇特心中的愉悦比我清晰许多，因为她可以毫不费力地再记起这位旧相识——当然，她为农舍的一些改变小小地惋惜了一下。实际上，她一开始又惊又喜，不敢相信，但眼前的场景很快在她内心的情感中得到确认——她跑遍了这所老宅的每一个角落，包括柴房、果园，还有曾经安置鸽舍的地方（可惜鸽子和鸽舍都早已不知去向）。她急着辨识，有些急不可耐，气喘吁吁。这对于一个五十出头的人来说，这虽有失庄重，却也情有可原。但是，在某些方面，布丽奇特本来就比她的实际年龄小。
The only thing left was to get into the house—and that was a difficulty which to me singly would have been insurmountable; for I am terribly shy in making myself known to strangers and out—of—date kinsfolk. Love, stronger than scruple, winged my cousin in without me; but she soon returned with a creature that might have sat to a sculptor for the image of Welcome. It was the youngest of the Gladmans; who, by marriage with a Bruton, had become mistress of the old mansion. A comely brood are the Brutons. Six of them, females, were noted as the handsomest young women in the county. But this adopted Bruton, in my mind, was better than they all—more comely. She was born too late to have remembered me. She just recollected in early life to have had her cousin Bridget pointed out to her, climbing a style. But the name kindred, and of cousinship, was enough. Those slender ties, that prove slight as gossamer in the rending atmosphere of a metropolis, bind faster, as we found it, in hearty, homely, loving Hertfordshire. In five minutes we were as thoroughly acquainted as if we had been born and bred up together; were familiar, even to the calling each other by our Christian names. So Christians should call one another. To have seen Bridget, and her—it was like the meeting of the two scriptural cousins! There was a grace and dignity, an amplitude of form and stature, answering to her mind, in this farmer's wife, which would have shined in a palace—or so we thought it. We were made welcome by husband and wife equally—we, and our friend that was with us—I had almost forgotten him—but B.F. will not so soon forget that meeting, if peradventure he shall read this on the far distant shores where the Kangaroo haunts. The fatted calf was made ready, or rather was already so, as if in anticipation of our coming; and, after an appropriate glass of native wine, never let me forget with what honest pride this hospitable cousin made us proceed to Wheathampstead, to introduce us （as some new—found rarity）to her mother and sister Gladmans, who did indeed know something more of us, at a time when she almost knew nothing. —With what corresponding kindness we were received by them also—how Bridget's memory, exalted by the occasion, warmed into a thousand half—obliterated recollections of things and persons, to my utter astonishment, and her own—and to the astoundment of B.F. who sat by, almost the only thing that was not a cousin there, —old effaced images of more than half—forgotten names and circumstances still crowding back upon her, as words written in lemon come out upon exposure to a friendly warmth, —when I forget all this, then may my country cousins forget me; and Bridget no more remember, that in the days of weakling infancy I was her tender charge—as I have been her care in foolish manhood since—in those pretty pastoral walks, long ago about Mackery End, in Hertfordshire.
现在唯一剩下的事就是进屋了——这可是桩难事，如果这次我独自前来，那我是断不能逾越这障碍的。因为我结识生人和远亲时非常害羞。比疑虑更强烈的亲情驱使我的堂姐独自进了农舍，丢下了我。但她很快又回来了，还带了个人出来。那个人可以坐下让雕刻家依样雕刻出一尊 “欢迎女神” 的塑像。那是格莱德曼家最年轻的成员。她嫁给了一个姓布鲁顿的人，便成了这老宅子的女主人。布鲁顿家的人都长得很清秀。他们家的六个女儿是当时村里公认的最漂亮的姑娘。但布鲁顿家的这位儿媳，在我看来却要比她们都漂亮。她年纪太小，不认得我。她只记得小时候人家向她指出正迈过篱笆的布丽奇特表姐。但是，知道是亲戚，是表亲，这就足够了。这种生疏的关系在大城市那种互不往来的氛围下一定细若游丝，但在这热情、朴实、深情的赫特福德郡，我们却看到这种关系更迅速地把人联系在一起。过了五分钟，我们就完全熟络起来，好像我们从出生就一起长大一样，熟悉得彼此都可以称呼对方的教名了。基督徒之间本来就该那样称呼的。而布丽奇特和她在一起——简直就像《圣经》里那两姐妹见面的场景！这位农家妇女自有一种娴雅端庄的风度，外形身姿都很大气，恰与她的心灵相配。她身处宫殿里也会光彩照人——至少我们是这样想的。男女主人都同样热情地接待我们——我们，还有与我们同去的一位朋友，我差点把他忘了——但B. F. 是不会轻易忘记这次见面的。他现在正在有袋鼠出没的遥远海岸，说不定他也能读到这篇文章呢。肥牛犊已经备好，也可能早就备好了，好像知道我们要来似的。喝过一杯自制佳酿之后，那位热情好客的表亲又带我们去了威桑普斯泰德，她那副朴实又自豪的神情我永远都忘不了。她把我们介绍给了她的母亲和格莱德曼家的姐姐们（就像是发现了什么稀世珍宝似的）。她们果然比这位表亲知道更多关于我们的往事，那时她还太小，几乎什么都不懂。她家里人也以同样的热情款待了我们——受到此番情景的激发，布丽奇特记忆的闸门一下子打开了，快要遗忘了的上千个人和事的记忆涌出来，让我和她都着实吃了一惊。坐在一边的B. F. 也很是吃惊，他大概是那儿唯一一个不是亲戚的人了。那些忘得差不多的姓名和场景的已经抹去的陈旧印象，都回到了她脑海中，就像用柠檬水写的字在温暖的环境下渐渐显现出形迹一样。我若是忘了这一切，那么就请这村子里的表亲们也忘掉我吧。布丽奇特也不必再想起，在我还是个羸弱的孩子时，她是如何细心地照顾我——长大成人后，我也依然傻傻地受着她的照料——很久以前，她曾和我一起在赫特福德郡走过麦考利村头那片美丽的田园。