第十一章（第13/20页）

但莱斯利·温特却形单影只。他深爱着自己的府邸。但自家的花园与他开办的三座煤矿毗邻。他思想开明。对矿工出入他的园林，几乎抱着欢迎的态度。要是没有这些矿工，他又怎能发迹呢！因此，当目睹形容枯槁的矿工们，成群结队地在景观水池边徜徉——园林的私人领域不得入内——他就会说：“若论装点园林，矿工们或许不如几匹鹿，但他们却能给我带来更多的利润。”但那仍是财源滚滚的黄金时期——维多利亚女皇（注：1819-1901，英国历史在位时间最长的君主，其统治时期正是英国最强盛的“日不落帝国”时期。）在位的后半期。矿工们都是“良善的劳动者”。

Winter had made this speech, half apologetic, to his guest, the then Prince of Wales. And the Prince had replied, in his rather guttural English: "You are quite right. If there were coal under Sandringham, I would open a mine on the lawns, and think it first-rate landscape gardening. Oh, I am quite willing to exchange roe-deer for colliers, at the price. Your men are good men too, I hear.” But then, the Prince had perhaps an exaggerated idea of the beauty of money, and the blessings of industrialism.

温特说这席话时略带歉意，对他的客人，当时的威尔士王子倾诉心声。而王子则用喉音极重的英语作答：“你的话千真万确。若是桑德灵厄姆地底埋有煤炭，我会在草坪上开矿采掘，并将其视为园林中最美丽的风景。噢，我情愿用狍子交换矿工，高价来换。我还听说，给你干活的都是良民。”但当时，王子殿下似乎有些夸大其辞，将金元之美和工业之福祉捧得过高。

However, the Prince had been a King, and the King had died, and now there was another King, whose chief function seemed to be to open soup-kitchens.

尽管如此，那位王子后来还是登上王座，如今早已晏驾，在位的是另一位国君，其主要职责似乎只剩四处开设救济难民的施粥所。

And the good working men were somehow hemming Shipley in. New mining villages crowded on the park, and the squire felt somehow that the population was alien. He used to feel, in a good-natured but quite grand way, lord of his own domain and of his own colliers. Now, by a subtle pervasion of the new spirit, he had somehow been pushed out. It was he who did not belong any more. There was no mistaking it. The mines, the industry, had a will of its own, and this will was against the gentleman-owner. All the colliers took part in the will, and it was hard to live up against it. It either shoved you out of the place, or out of life altogether.

而不知为何，那些良善的矿工们正将希普利层层围困。新兴的矿村将庄园团团围住，乡绅温特发觉这些平头百姓们已非昔日的顺民。当初的他和蔼可亲，慷慨大方，以自家产业和矿工的主人自居。可现在，随着新思想潜移默化的影响，他发现自己已莫名其妙地被淘汰出局。跟不上潮流的正是他自己。这一点确实无疑。煤矿和工业都拥有自己的意志，这种意志是与贵族业主针锋相对的。所有的矿工都秉承这种意志，想要与之对抗难上加难。等待你的结局或许是被赶下台去，或者干脆性命不保。

Squire Winter, a soldier, had stood it out. But he no longer cared to walk in the park after dinner. He almost hid, indoors. Once he had walked, bare-headed, and in his patent-leather shoes and purple silk socks, with Connie down to the gate, talking to her in his well-bred rather haw-haw fashion. But when it came to passing the little gangs of colliers who stood and stared without either salute or anything else, Connie felt how the lean, well-bred old man winced, winced as an elegant antelope stag in a cage winces from the vulgar stare. The colliers were not PERSONALLY hostile: not at all. But their spirit was cold, and shoving him out. And, deep down, there was a profound grudge. They "worked for him". And in their ugliness, they resented his elegant, well-groomed, well-bred existence. "Who's he!” It was the DIFFERENCE they resented.