the professor at the breakfast table-第18节

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…but　look　over　to　Florence　and　see　who　lie　in　Santa　Crocea；　and　ask

out　of　whose　loins　Dante　sprung！



Oh；　yes；　to　be　sure；　Venice　built　her　Ducal　Palace；　and　her　Church　of

St。　Mark；　and　her　Casa　d'　Or；　and　the　rest　of　her　golden　houses；　and

Venice　had　great　pictures　and　good　music；　and　Venice　had　a　Golden

Book；　in　which　all　the　large　tax…payers　had　their　names　written；but

all　that　did　not　make　Venice　the　brain　of　Italy。



I　tell　you　what；　Sir；with　all　these　magnificent　appliances　of

civilization；　it　is　time　we　began　to　hear　something　from　the　djinnis

donee　whose　names　are　on　the　Golden　Book　of　our　sumptuous；　splendid；

marble…placed　Venice；something　in　the　higher　walks　of　literature；

something　in　the　councils　of　the　nation。　　Plenty　of　Art；　I　grant　you；

Sir；　now；　then；　for　vast　libraries；　and　for　mighty　scholars　and

thinkers　and　statesmen；five　for　every　Boston　one；　as　the　population

is　to　ours；ten　to　one　more　properly；　in　virtue　of　centralizing

attraction　as　the　alleged　metropolis；　and　not　call　our　people

provincials；　and　have　to　come　begging　to　us　to　write　the　lives　of

Hendrik　Hudson　and　Gouverneur　Morris！



The　Little　Gentleman　was　on　his　hobby；　exalting　his　own　city　at　the

expense　of　every　other　place。　　I　have　my　doubts　if　he　had　been　in

either　of　the　cities　he　had　been　talking　about。　　I　was　just　going　to

say　something　to　sober　him　down；　if　I　could；　when　the　young

Marylander　spoke　up。



Come；　now；he　said；what's　the　use　of　these　comparisons？　　Did　n't　I

hear　this　gentleman　saying；　the　other　day；　that　every　American　owns

all　America？　　If　you　have　really　got　more　brains　in　Boston　than　other

folks；　as　you　seem　to　think；　who　hates　you　for　it；　except　a　pack　of

scribbling　fools？　　If　I　like　Broadway　better　than　Washington　Street；

what　then？　　I　own　them　both；　as　much　as　anybody　owns　either。　I　am　an

American；and　wherever　I　look　up　and　see　the　stars　and　stripes

overhead；　that　is　home　to　me！



He　spoke；　and　looked　up　as　if　he　heard　the　emblazoned　folds　crackling

over　him　in　the　breeze。　　We　all　looked　up　involuntarily；　as　if　we

should　see　the　national　flag　by　so　doing。　　The　sight　of　the　dingy

ceiling　and　the　gas…fixture　depending　therefrom　dispelled　the

illusion。



Bravo！　　bravo！said　the　venerable　gentleman　on　the　other　side　of　the

table。　Those　are　the　sentiments　of　Washington's　Farewell　Address。

Nothing　better　than　that　since　the　last　chapter　in　Revelations。

Five…and…forty　years　ago　there　used　to　be　Washington　societies；　and

little　boys　used　to　walk　in　processions；　each　little　boy　having　a

copy　of　the　Address；　bound　in　red；　hung　round　his　neck　by　a　ribbon。

Why　don't　they　now？　　Why　don't　they　now？　　I　saw　enough　of　hating　each

other　in　the　old　Federal　times；　now　let's　love　each　other；　I　say；

let's　love　each　other；　and　not　try　to　make　it　out　that　there　is　n't

any　place　fit　to　live　in　except　the　one　we　happen　to　be　born　in。



It　dwarfs　the　mind；　I　think；said　I；to　feed　it　on　any　localism。

The　full　stature　of　manhood　is　shrivelled



The　color　burst　up　into　my　cheeks。　　What　was　I　saying；I；　who　would

not　for　the　world　have　pained　our　unfortunate　little　boarder　by　an

allusion？



I　will　go；he　said；and　made　a　movement　with　his　left　arm　to　let

himself　down　from　his　high　chair。



No；no；he　does　n't　mean　it；you　must　not　go；said　a　kind　voice

next　him；　and　a　soft；　white　hand　was　laid　upon　his　arm。



Iris；　my　dear！exclaimed　another　voice；　as　of　a　female；　in　accents

that　might　be　considered　a　strong　atmospheric　solution　of　duty　with

very　little　flavor　of　grace。



She　did　not　move　for　this　address；　and　there　was　a　tableau　that

lasted　some　seconds。　　For　the　young　girl；　in　the　glory　of　half…blown

womanhood；　and　the　dwarf；　the　cripple；　the　misshapen　little　creature

covered　with　Nature's　insults；　looked　straight　into　each　other's

eyes。



Perhaps　no　handsome　young　woman　had　ever　looked　at　him　so　in　his

life。　　Certainly　the　young　girl　never　had　looked　into　eyes　that

reached　into　her　soul　as　these　did。　　It　was　not　that　they　were　in

themselves　supernaturally　bright；but　there　was　the　sad　fire　in　them

that　flames　up　from　the　soul　of　one　who　looks　on　the　beauty　of　woman

without　hope；　but；　alas！　not　without　emotion。　　To　him　it　seemed　as　if

those　amber　gates　had　been　translucent　as　the　brown　water　of　a

mountain　brook；　and　through　them　he　had　seen　dimly　into　a　virgin

wilderness；　only　waiting　for　the　sunrise　of　a　great　passion　for　all

its　buds　to　blow　and　all　its　bowers　to　ring　with　melody。



That　is　my　image；　of　course；not　his。　　It　was　not　a　simile　that　was

in　his　mind；　or　is　in　anybody's　at　such　a　moment；it　was　a　pang　of

wordless　passion；　and　then　a　silent；　inward　moan。



A　lady's　wish；he　said；　with　a　certain　gallantry　of　manner；makes

slaves　of　us　all。　And　Nature；　who　is　kind　to　all　her　children；　and

never　leaves　the　smallest　and　saddest　of　all　her　human　failures

without　one　little　comfit　of　self…love　at　the　bottom　of　his　poor

ragged　pocket；Nature　suggested　to　him　that　he　had　turned　his

sentence　well；　and　he　fell　into　a　reverie；　in　which　the　old　thoughts

that　were　always　hovering　dust　outside　the　doors　guarded　by　Common

Sense；　and　watching　for　a　chance　to　squeeze　in；　knowing　perfectly

well　they　would　be　ignominiously　kicked　out　again　as　soon　as　Common

Sense　saw　them；　flocked　in　pell…mell；misty；　fragmentary；　vague；

half…ashamed　of　themselves；　but　still　shouldering　up　against　his

inner　consciousness　till　it　warmed　with　their　contact：John

Wilkes'sthe　ugliest　man's　in　Englandsaying；　that　with　half…an…

hour's　start　he　would　cut　out　the　handsomest　man　in　all　the　land　in

any　woman's　good　graces；　Cadenusold　and　savageleading　captive

Stella　and　Vanessa；　and　then　the　stray　line　of　a　ballad；　〃And　a

winning　tongue　had　he；〃as　much　as　to　say；　it　is　n't　looks；　after

all；　but　cunning　words；　that　win　our　Eves　over；just　as　of　old　when

it　was　the　worst…looking　brute　of　the　lot　that　got　our　grandmother　to

listen　to　his　stuff　and　so　did　the　mischief。



Ah；　dear　me！　　We　rehearse　the　part　of　Hercules　with　his　club；

subjugating　man　and　woman　in　our　fancy；　the　first　by　the　weight　of

it；　and　the　second　by　our　handling　of　it；we　rehearse　it；　I　say；　by

our　own　hearth…stones；　with　the　cold　poker　as　our　club；　and　the

exercise　is　easy。　　But　when　we　come　to　real　life；　the　poker　is　in　the

fore；　and；　ten　to　one；　if　we　would　grasp　it；　we　find　it　too　hot　to

hold；lucky　for　us；　if　it　is　not　white…hot；　and　we　do　not　have　to

leave　the　skin　of　our　hands　sticking　to　it　when　we　fling　it　down　or

drop　it　with　a　loud　or　silent　cry！



I　am　frightened　when　I　find　into　what　a　labyrinth　of　human

character　and　feeling　I　am　winding。　　I　meant　to　tell　my　thoughts；　and

to　throw　in　a　few　studies　of　manner　and　costume　as　they　pictured

themselves　for　me　from　day　to　day。　　Chance　has　thrown　together　at　the

table　with　me　a　number　of　persons　who　are　worth　studying；　and　I　mean

not　only　to　look　on　them；　but；　if　I　can；　through　them。　　You　can　get

any　man's　or　woman's　secret；　whose　sphere　is　circumscribed　by　your

own；　if　you　will　only　look　patiently　on　them　long　enough。　　Nature　is

always　applying　her　reagents　to　character；　if　you　will　take　the　pains

to　watch　her。　　Our　studies　of　character；　to　change　the　image；　are

very　much　like　the　surveyor's　triangulation　of　a　geographical

province。　　We　get　a　base…line　in　organization；　always；　then　we　get　an

angle　by　sighting　some　distant　object　to　which　the　passions　or

aspirations　of　the　subject　of　our　observation　are　tending；　then

another；and　so　we　construct　our　first　triangle。　　Once　fix　a　man's

ideals；　and　for　the　most　part　the　rest　is　easy。　　A　wants　to　die　worth

half　a　million。　　Good。　　B　（female）　wants　to　catch　him；and　outlive

him。　　All　right。　　Minor　details　at　our　leisure。



What　is　it；　of　all　your　experiences；　of　all　your　thoughts；　of　all

your　misdoings；　that　lies　at　the　very　bottom　of　the　great　heap　of

acts　of　consciousness　which　make　up　your　past　life？　　What　should　you

most　dislike　to　tell　your　nearest　friend？Be　so　good　as　to　pause　for

a　brief　space；　and　shut　the　volume　you　hold　with　your　finger　between

the　pages。　Oh；　that　is　it！



What　a　confessional　I　have　been　sitting　at；　with　the　inward　ear　of　my

soul　open；　as　the　multitudinous　whisper　of　my　involuntary　confidants

came　back　to　me　like　the　reduplicated　echo　of　a　cry　among　the　craggy

bills！



At　the　house　of　a　friend　where　I　once　passed　the　night　was　one　of

those　stately　upright　cabinet　desks　and　cases　of　drawers　which　were

not　rare　in　prosperous　families　during　the　last　century。　　It　had　held

the　clothes　and　the　books　and　the　papers　of　generation　after

generation。　　The　hands　that　opened　its　drawers　had　grown　withered；

shrivelled；　and　at　last　been　folded　in　death。　　The　children　that

played　with　the　lower　handles　had　got　tall　enough　to　open　the　desk；

to　reach　the　upper　shelves　behind　the　folding…doors；grown　bent

after　a　while；and　then　followed　those　who　had　gone　before；　and　left

the　old　cabinet　t