the dwelling place of ligh-第1部分

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The　Dwelling　Place　of　Ligh

by　Winston　Churchill


1917






VOLUME　1。



CHAPTER　I

In　this　modern　industrial　civilization　of　which　we　are　sometimes　wont　to　boast；
a　certain　glacier…like　process　may　be　observed。　　The　bewildered；　the　helpless
and　there　are　manyare　torn　from　the　parent　rock；　crushed；　rolled　smooth；　and
left　stranded　in　strange　places。　　Thus　was　Edward　Bumpus　severed　and　rolled
from　the　ancestral　ledge；　from　the　firm　granite　of　seemingly　stable　and　lasting
things；　into　shifting　shale；　surrounded　by　fragments　of　cliffs　from　distant
lands　he　had　never　seen。　　Thus；　at　five　and　fifty；　he　found　himself　gate…keeper
of　the　leviathan　Chippering　Mill　in　the　city　of　Hampton。

That　the　polyglot；　smoky　settlement　sprawling　on　both　sides　of　an　historic
river　should　be　a　part　of　his　native　New　England　seemed　at　times　to　be　a
hideous　dream；　nor　could　he　comprehend　what　had　happened　to　him；　and　to　the
world　of　order　and　standards　and　religious　sanctions　into　which　he　had　been
born。　　His　had　been　a　life　of　relinquishments。　　For　a　long　time　he　had　clung　to
the　institution　he　had　been　taught　to　believe　was　the　rock　of　ages；　the
Congregational　Church；　finally　to　abandon　it；　even　that　assuming　a　form
fantastic　and　unreal；　as　embodied　in　the　edifice　three　blocks　distant　from
Fillmore　Street　which　he　had　attended　for　a　brief　time；　some　ten　years　before；
after　his　arrival　in　Hampton。　　The　building；　indeed；　was　symbolic　of　a　decadent
and　bewildered　Puritanism　in　its　pathetic　attempt　to　keep　abreast　with　the　age；
to　compromise　with　anarchy；　merely　achieving　a　nondescript　medley　of　rounded；
knob…like　towers　covered　with　mulberry…stained　shingles。　　And　the　minister　was
sensational　and　dramatic。　　He　looked　like　an　actor；　he　aroused　in　Edward　Bumpus
an　inherent　prejudice　that　condemned　the　stage。　　Half　a　block　from　this
tabernacle　stood　a　Roman　Catholic　Church；　prosperous；　brazen；　serene；　flaunting
an　eternal　permanence　amidst　the　chaos　which　had　succeeded　permanence！

There　were；　to　be　sure；　other　Protestant　churches　where　Edward　Bumpus　and　his
wife　might　have　gone。　　One　in　particular；　which　he　passed　on　his　way　to　the
mill；　with　its　terraced　steeple　and　classic　facade；　preserved　all　the　outward
semblance　of　the　old　Order　that　once　had　seemed　so　enduring　and　secure。　　He
hesitated　to　join　the　decorous　and　dwindling　congregation；the　remains　of　a
social　stratum　from　which　he　had　been　pried　loose；　andmore　ironythis
street；　called　Warren；　of　arching　elms　and　white…gabled　houses；　was　now　the
abiding　place　of　those　prosperous　Irish　who　had　moved　thither　from　the
tenements　and　ruled　the　city。

On　just　such　a　street　in　the　once　thriving　New　England　village　of　Dolton　had
Edward　been　born。　　In　Dolton　Bumpus　was　once　a　name　of　names；　rooted　there
since　the　seventeenth　century；　and　if　you　had　cared　to　listen　he　would　have
told　you；　in　a　dialect　precise　but　colloquial；　the　history　of　a　family　that　by
right　of　priority　and　service　should　have　been　destined　to　inherit　the　land；
but　whose　descendants　were　preserved　to　see　it　delivered　to　the　alien。　　The　God
of　Cotton　Mather　and　Jonathan　Edwards　had　been　tried　in　the　balance　and　found
wanting。　　Edward　could　never　understand　this；　or　why　the　Universe；　so　long
static　and　immutable；　had　suddenly　begun　to　move。　　He　had　always　been　prudent；
but　in　spite　of　youthful　〃advantages；〃　of　an　education；　so　called；　from　a
sectarian　college　on　a　hill；　he　had　never　been　taught　that；　while　prudence　may
prosper　in　a　static　world；　it　is　a　futile　virtue　in　a　dynamic　one。　　Experience
even　had　been　powerless　to　impress　this　upon　him。　　For　more　than　twenty　years
after　leaving　college　he　had　clung　to　a　clerkship　in　a　Dolton　mercantile
establishment　before　he　felt　justified　in　marrying　Hannah；　the　daughter　of
Elmer　Wench；　when　the　mercantile　establishment　amalgamated　with　a　rivaland
Edward's　services　were　no　longer　required。　　During　the　succession　of　precarious
places　with　decreasing　salaries　he　had　subsequently　held　a　terrified　sense　of
economic　pressure　had　gradually　crept　over　him；　presently　growing　strong
enough；　after　two　girls　had　arrived；　to　compel　the　abridgment　of　the　family
。。。。It　would　be　painful　to　record　in　detail　the　cracking…off　process；　the
slipping　into　shale；　the　rolling；　the　ending　up　in　Hampton；　where　Edward　had
now　for　some　dozen　years　been　keeper　of　one　of　the　gates　in　the　frowning　brick
wall　bordering　the　canal；a　position　obtained　for　him　by　a　compassionate　but
not　too　prudent　childhood　friend　who　had　risen　in　life　and　knew　the　agent　of
the　Chippering　Mill；　Mr。　Claude　Ditmar。　　Thus　had　virtue　failed　to　hold　its
own。

One　might　have　thought　in　all　these　years　he　had　sat　within　the　gates　staring
at　the　brick　row　of　the　company's　boarding　houses　on　the　opposite　bank　of　the
canal　that　reflection　might　have　brought　a　certain　degree　of　enlightenment。　　It
was　not　so。　　The　fog　of　Edward's　bewilderment　never　cleared；　and　the　unformed
question　was　ever　clamouring　for　an　answerhow　had　it　happened？　　Job's　cry。
How　had　it　happened　to　an　honest　and　virtuous　man；　the　days　of　whose　forebears
had　been　long　in　the　land　which　the　Lord　their　God　had　given　them？　　Inherently
American；　though　lacking　the　saving　quality　of　push　that　had　been　the　making　of
men　like　Ditmar；　he　never　ceased　to　regard　with　resentment　and　distrust　the
hordes　of　foreigners　trooping　between　the　pillars；　though　he　refrained　from
expressing　these　sentiments　in　public；　a　bent；　broad　shouldered；　silent　man　of
that　unmistakable　physiognomy　which；　in　the　seventeenth　century；　almost　wholly
deserted　the　old　England　for　the　new。　　The　ancestral　features　were　there；　the
lipscovered　by　a　grizzled　moustache　moulded　for　the　precise　formation　that
emphasizes　such　syllables　as　el；　the　hooked　nose　and　sallow　cheeks；　the
grizzled　brows　and　grey　eyes　drawn　down　at　the　corners。　　But　for　all　its
ancestral　strength　of　feature；　it　was　a　face　from　which　will　had　been
extracted；　and　lacked　the　fire　and　fanaticism；　the　indomitable　hardness　it
should　have　proclaimed；　and　which　have　been　so　characteristically　embodied　in
Mr。　St。　Gaudens's　statue　of　the　Puritan。　　His　clothes　were　slightly　shabby；　but
always　neat。

Little　as　one　might　have　guessed　it；　however；　what　may　be　called　a　certain
transmuted　enthusiasm　was　alive　in　him。　　He　had　a　hobby　almost　amounting　to　an
obsession；　not　uncommon　amongst　Americans　who　have　slipped　downward　in　the
social　scale。　　It　was　the　Bumpus　Family　in　America。　　He　collected　documents
about　his　ancestors　and　relations；　he　wrote　letters　with　a　fine；　painful
penmanship　on　a　ruled　block　he　bought　at　Hartshorne's　drug　store　to　distant
Bumpuses　in　Kansas　and　Illinois　and　Michigan；　common　descendants　of　Ebenezer；
the　original　immigrant；　of　Dolton。　　Many　of　these　western　kinsmen　answered：　not
so　the　magisterial　Bumpus　who　lived　in　Boston　on　the　water　side　of　Beacon；　whom
likewise　he　had　ventured　to　address；to　the　indignation　and　disgust　of　his
elder　daughter；　Janet。

〃Why　are　you　so　proud　of　Ebenezer？〃　she　demanded　once；　scornfully。

〃Why？　　Aren't　we　descended　from　him？〃

〃How　many　generations？〃

〃Seven；〃　said　Edward；　promptly；　emphasizing　the　last　syllable。

Janet　was　quick　at　figures。　　She　made　a　mental　calculation。

〃Well；　you've　got　one　hundred　and　twenty…seven　other　ancestors　of　Ebenezer's
time；　haven't　you？〃

Edward　was　a　little　surprised。　　He　had　never　thought　of　this；　but　his　ardour
for　Ebenezer　remained　undampened。　　Genealogyhis　ownhad　become　his　religion；
and　instead　of　going　to　church　he　spent　his　Sunday　mornings　poring　over　papers
of　various　degrees　of　discolouration；　making　careful　notes　on　the　ruled　block。

This　consciousness　of　his　descent　from　good　American　stock　that　had　somehow
been　deprived　of　its　heritage；　while　a　grievance　to　him；　was　also　a　comfort。
It　had　a　compensating　side；　in　spite　of　the　lack　of　sympathy　of　his　daughters
and　his　wife。　　Hannah　Bumpus　took　the　situation　more　grimly：　she　was　a　logical
projection　in　a　new　environment　of　the　religious　fatalism　of　ancestors　whose
God　was　a　God　of　vengeance。　　She　did　not　concern　herself　as　to　what　all　this
vengeance　was　about；　life　was　a　trap　into　which　all　mortals　walked　sooner　or
later；　and　her　particular　trap　had　a　treadmill；a　round　of　household　duties
she　kept　whirling　with　an　energy　that　might　have　made　their　fortunes　if　she　had
been　the　head　of　the　family。　　It　is　bad　to　be　a　fatalist　unless　one　has　an
incontrovertible　belief　in　one's　destiny；which　Hannah　had　not。　　But　she　kept
the　little　flat　with　its　worn　furniture；which　had　known　so　many　journeysas
clean　as　a　merchant　ship　of　old　Salem；　and　when　it　was　scoured　and　dusted　to
her　satisfaction　she　would　sally　forth　to　Bonnaccossi's　grocery　and　provision
store　on　the　corner　to　do　her　bargaining　in　competition　with　the　Italian
housewives　of　the　neighborhood。　　She　was　wont；　indeed；　to　pause　outside　for　a
moment；　her　quick　eye　encompassing　the　coloured　prints　of　red　and　yellow
jellies　cast　in　rounded　moulds；　decked　with　slices　of　orange；　the　gaudy　boxes
of　cereals　and　buckwheat　flour；　the　〃Brookfield〃　eggs　in　packages。
Significant；　this　modern　package　system；　of　an　era　of　flats　with　little　storage
space。　　She　took　in　at　a　glance　the　blue　lettered　placard　announcing　the
current　price　of　butterine；　and　walked　around　to　the　other　side　of　the　store；
on　Holmes　Street；　where　the　beef　and　bacon　hung；　where　the　sidewalk　stands　were
filled；　in　the　autumn；　with　cranberries；　apples；　cabbages；　and　spinach。

With　little　outer　complaint　she　had　adapted　herself　to　the　constantly　lowering
levels　to　which　her　husband　had　dropped；　and　if　she　hoped　that　in　Fillmore
Street　they　had　reached　bottom；　she　did　not　say　so。　　Her　unbetrayed　regret　was
for　the　loss　of　what　she　would　have　called　〃respectability〃；　and　the　giving　up；
long　ago；　in　the　little　city　which　had　been　their　home；　of　the　servant　girl　had
been　the　first　wrench。　　Until　they　came　to　Hampton　they　had　always　lived　in
houses；　and　her　adaptation　to　a　flat　had　been　harda　flat　without　a　parlour。
Hannah　Bumpus　regarded　a　parlour　as　necessary　to　a　respectable　family　as　a
wedding　ring　to　a　virtuous　woman。　　Janet　and　Lise　would　be　growing　up；　there
would　b