the darrow enigma(达罗之迷)-第35节
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said； 〃but it is remarkable； none the less。 See here！〃 He held the
magazine toward me； and I read： 〃Cleopatra's Needle。 The Historic
Significance of Central Park's New Monument。 Some of the Difficulties
that Attended its Transportation and Erection。 By James Theodore
Wright； Ph。 D。〃 I was dumfounded。 Things were indeed getting
interesting。
〃Magazines and newspapers；〃 I said； 〃seem to be altogether too much
in your line。 We'll try a book this time。 Here；〃 and I pulled the first one
that came to hand； 〃is a copy of Tennyson's Poems I fancy it will trouble
you to find your reference in that。〃 Maitland took it in silence； and；
opening it at random； began to read。 The result surprised him even more
than it did me。 He had chanced upon these verses from 〃A Dream of Fair
Women〃：
〃'We drank the Libyan Sun to sleep； and litLamps which outburn'd
Canopus。 0 my lifeIn Egypt！ 0 the dalliance and the wit；The flattery
and the strife。
〃'And the wild kiss when fresh from war's alarms；My Hercules； my
Roman Antony；My mailed Bacchus leapt into my arms；Contented there to
die！
〃'And there he died！ And when I heard my nameSigh'd forth with
life； I would not brook my fearOf the other！ With a worm I balked his
fame。What else was left？ look here！'
〃With that she tore her robe apart and halfThe polished argent of
her breast to sightLaid bare。 Thereto she pointed with a laugh；Showing
the aspic's bite。〃
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〃There is no doubt about that；〃 I said； as he laid the book upon the
table。 〃I want to try this thing once more。 Here is Pascal； if you can
find any reference to the 'Serpent of the Nile' in that； you needn't go any
farther； I shall be satisfied；〃 and I passed the book to him。 He turned the
pages over in silence for half a minute； or so； and then said： 〃I guess this
counts as a failure； … no； though； by Jove！ Look here！〃 His face was of
almost deathly pallor； and his finger trembled upon the passage it
indicated as he held the book toward me。 I glanced with some anxiety
from his face to the book； and read； as nearly as I now can remember： 〃If
Cleopatra's nose had been shorter； the entire face of the world would have
been changed。〃
It was some minutes before Maitland fully regained his composure；
and during that time neither of us spoke。 〃Well； Doc；〃 he said at length；
and his manner was decidedly grave； even for him：
〃What do you make of it？〃 I didn't know what to make of it； and I
admitted my ignorance with a frankness at which； considering my
profession； I have often since had occasion to marvel。 I told him that I
could scarcely account for it on the ground of mere coincidence； and I
called his attention to that part of 〃The Mystery of Marie Roget；〃 where
Poe figures out the mathematical likelihood of a certain combination of
peculiarities of clothing being found to obtain in the case of two young
women who were unknown to each other。 If the finding of a single
reference to Cleopatra had been a thing of so infrequent occurrence as to
at once challenge Maitland's attention； what was to be said when； all of a
sudden； her name； or some reference to her； seemed to stare at him from
every page he read？
〃'There is something in this more than natural； If philosophy could
find it out；'〃=20
murmured Maitland； more to himself than to me。 〃Come； what do
you say？〃 and he turned abruptly to me with one of those searching looks
so peculiar to him in moments of excitement。 〃I see；〃 I replied； 〃that you
are determined I shall give my opinion now and here； without a moment's
reflection。 Very well； you have just quoted 'Hamlet'； I will do likewise：
〃'There are more things in Heaven and Earth； Horatio；Than are
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dreamt of in your philosophy I'
〃You seem in some strange way to be dominated by the shade of
Cleopatra。 Now； if I believed in metempsychosis； I should think you
were Mark Antony brought down to date。 There； with that present sober
air of yours； you'd pass anywhere for such an anachronism。 But to be
serious； and to give you advice which is positively bilious with gravity； I
should say； investigate this thing fully； make a study of this ancient
charmer。 By the way； why not begin by going to see Davenport in
Sardou's 'Cleopatra'？ You have never seen her in it； have you？〃
In this way。 I succeeded in getting him out of his depressed state。 We
got into an argument concerning the merits of Miss Davenport's work。 I
know of nothing Maitland would sooner do than argue； and； if attacked on
a subject upon which he feels strongly； he is； for the time being； totally
oblivious of everything else。 For this reason I trapped him into this
argument。 I abominate what is now known as 〃realism〃 just as much as
he does； but you don't have much of an argument without some apparent
difference of opinion； so； for the nonce； I became a realist of whom Zola
himself would have been proud。 〃Why； man；〃 I said； 〃realism is truth。
You certainly can't have any quarrel with that。〃 I knew this would have
the effect of a red rag flaunted in the face of a bull。
〃Truth！ Bah！〃 he exclaimed excitedly。 〃I have no patience with
such aesthetic hod…carriers！ Truth； indeed！ Is there no other truth in art
but that coarse verisimilitude； that vulgar trickery； which appeals to the
eyes and the ears of the rabble？ Are there not psychological truths of
immensely greater importance？ What sane man imagines for a moment
that the pleasure he derives from seeing that greatest of all tragedians；
Edwin Booth； in one of Shakespeare's matchless tragedies； is dependent
upon his believing that this or that character is actually killed？ Why；
even the day of the cranberry…juice dagger is long since passed。 When
Miss Davenport shrieks in 'Fedora；' the shriek is literal … 'real；' you would
call it … and you find yourself instinctively saying； 'Don't！ … don't！' and
wishing you were out of the house。 When Mr。 Booth； as 'Shylock'
shrieks at 'Tubal's' news； the cry is not real； is not literal； but is suggestive；
and you see at once the fiendish glee of which it is the expression。 The
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difference between the two is the difference between vocal cords and grey
matter。〃
〃But surely；〃 I rejoined； 〃one doesn't want untruth； one wants … 〃 but
he did not let me finish。
〃Always that cry of truth！〃 he retorted。 〃Do you not see how absurd
it is； as used by your exponents of realism？ With a bit of charcoal some
Raphael draws a face with five lines； and some photographer snaps a
camera at the same face。 Which would any sane man choose as the best
work of art？ The five…line face； of course。 Why？ Is the work of the
camera unreal？ Is it not more accurate in drawing； more subtle in
gradation than the less mechanical picture？ To be sure。 What； then；
makes the superiority of the few lines of our Raphael？ That which makes
the superiority of all noble art … its truth；； not on a low； but on a high； plane：
its power of interpreting。 See！〃 he said； fairly aglow with excitement。
〃What does your realist do； even assuming that he has reached that never…
tobe…attained perfection which is the lifelong Mecca of his desires？ He
gives you； by his absolutely
