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第15部分

the professor at the breakfast table-第15部分

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On the next leaf would figure the gentleman with the black coat and

white cravat; as he looked when he came and entertained her with

stories concerning the death of various little children about her

age; to encourage her; as that wicked Mr。 Arouet said about shooting

Admiral Byng。   Then she would take her pencil; and with a few

scratches there would be the outline of a child; in which you might

notice how one sudden sweep gave the chubby cheek; and two dots

darted at the paper looked like real eyes。



By…and…by she went to school; and caricatured the schoolmaster on the

leaves of her grammars and geographies; and drew the faces of her

companions; and; from time to time; heads and figures from her fancy;

with large eyes; far apart; like those of Raffaelle's mothers and

children; sometimes with wild floating hair; and then with wings and

heads thrown back in ecstasy。  This was at about twelve years old; as

the dates of these drawings show; and; therefore; three or four years

before she came among us。  Soon after this time; the ideal figures

began to take the place of portraits and caricatures; and a new

feature appeared in her drawing…books in the form of fragments of

verse and short poems。



It was dull work; of course; for such a young girl to live with an

old spinster and go to a village school。  Her books bore testimony to

this; for there was a look of sadness in the faces she drew; and a

sense of weariness and longing for some imaginary conditions of

blessedness or other; which began to be painful。  She might have gone

through this flowering of the soul; and; casting her petals; subsided

into a sober; human berry; but for the intervention of friendly

assistance and counsel。



In the town where she lived was a lady of honorable condition;

somewhat past middle age; who was possessed of pretty ample means; of

cultivated tastes; of excellent principles; of exemplary character;

and of more than common accomplishments。  The gentleman in black

broadcloth and white neckerchief only echoed the common voice about

her; when he called her; after enjoying; beneath her hospitable roof;

an excellent cup of tea; with certain elegancies and luxuries he was。

unaccustomed to; 〃The Model of all the Virtues。〃



She deserved this title as well as almost any woman。  She did really

bristle with moral excellences。  Mention any good thing she had not

done; I should like to see you try!  There was no handle of weakness

to take hold of her by; she was as unseizable; except in her

totality; as a billiard…ball; and on the broad; green; terrestrial

table; where she had been knocked about; like all of us; by the cue

of Fortune; she glanced from every human contact; and 〃caromed〃 from

one relation to another; and rebounded from the stuffed cushion of

temptation; with such exact and perfect angular movements; that the

Enemy's corps of Reporters had long given up taking notes of her

conduct; as there was no chance for their master。



What an admirable person for the patroness and directress of a

slightly self…willed child; with the lightning zigzag line of genius

running like a glittering vein through the marble whiteness of her

virgin nature!  One of the lady…patroness's peculiar virtues was

calmness。  She was resolute and strenuous; but still。  You could

depend on her for every duty; she was as true as steel。  She was

kind…hearted and serviceable in all the relations of life。  She had

more sense; more knowledge; more conversation; as well as more

goodness; than all the partners you have waltzed with this winter put

together。



Yet no man was known to have loved her; or even to have offered

himself to her in marriage。  It was a great wonder。  I am very

anxious to vindicate my character as a philosopher and an observer of

Nature by accounting for this apparently extraordinary fact。



You may remember certain persons who have the misfortune of

presenting to the friends whom they meet a cold; damp hand。  There

are states of mind in which a contact of this kind has a depressing

effect on the vital powers that makes us insensible to all the

virtues and graces of the proprietor of one of these life…absorbing

organs。  When they touch us; virtue passes out of us; and we feel as

if our electricity had been drained by a powerful negative battery;

carried about by an overgrown human torpedo。



〃The Model of all the Virtues〃 had a pair of searching eyes as clear

as Wenham ice; but they were slower to melt than that fickle jewelry。

Her features disordered themselves slightly at times in a surface…

smile; but never broke loose from their corners and indulged in the

riotous tumult of a laugh;which; I take it; is the mob…law of the

features;and propriety the magistrate who reads the riot…act。  She

carried the brimming cup of her inestimable virtues with a cautious;

steady hand; and an eye always on them; to see that they did not

spill。  Then she was an admirable judge of character。  Her mind was a

perfect laboratory of tests and reagents; every syllable you put into

breath went into her intellectual eudiometer; and all your thoughts

were recorded on litmus…paper。  I think there has rarely been a more

admirable woman。  Of course; Miss Iris was immensely and passionately

attached to her。 Well;these are two highly oxygenated adverbs;

grateful;suppose we say;yes;grateful; dutiful; obedient to her

wishes for the most part;perhaps not quite up to the concert pitch

of such a perfect orchestra of the virtues。



We must have a weak spot or two in a character before we can love it

much。  People that do not laugh or cry; or take more of anything than

is good for them; or use anything but dictionary…words; are admirable

subjects for biographies。  But we don't always care most for those

flat…pattern flowers that press best in the herbarium。



This immaculate woman;why could n't she have a fault or two?

Is n't there any old whisper which will tarnish that wearisome

aureole of saintly perfection?  Does n't she carry a lump of opium in

her pocket?  Is n't her cologne…bottle replenished oftener than its

legitimate use would require?  It would be such a comfort!



Not for the world would a young creature like Iris have let such

words escape her; or such thoughts pass through her mind。  Whether at

the bottom of her soul lies any uneasy consciousness of an oppressive

presence; it is hard to say; until we know more about her。  Iris sits

between the Little Gentleman and the 〃Model of all the Virtues;〃 as

the black…coated personage called her。 I will watch them all。



Here I stop for the present。  What the Professor said has had to

make way this time for what he saw and heard。



…And now you may read these lines; which were written for gentle

souls who love music; and read in even tones; and; perhaps; with

something like a smile upon the reader's lips; at a meeting where

these musical friends had gathered。  Whether they were written with

smiles or not; you can guess better after you have read them。





               THE OPENING OF THE PIANO。



In the little southern parlor of the house you may have seen

With the gambrel…roof; and the gable looking westward to the green;

At the side toward the sunset; with the window on its right;

Stood the London…made piano I am dreaming of to…night。



Ah me! how I remember the evening when it came!

What a cry of eager voices; what a group of cheeks in flame;

When the wondrous boa was opened that had come from over seas;

With its smell of mastic…varnish and its flash of ivory keys!



Then the children all grew fretful in the restlessness of joy;

For the boy would push his sister; and the sister crowd the boy;

Till the father asked for quiet in his grave paternal way;

But the mother hushed the tumult with the words; 〃Now; Mary; play。〃



For the dear soul knew that music was a very sovereign balm;

She had sprinkled it over Sorrow and seen its brow grow calm;

In the days of slender harpsichords with tapping tinkling quills;

Or caroling to her spinet with its thin metallic thrills。



So Mary; the household minstrel; who always loved to please;

Sat down to the new 〃Clementi;〃 and struck the glittering keys。

Hushed were the children's voices; and every eye grew dim;

As; floating from lip and finger; arose the 〃Vesper Hymn。〃



Catharine; child of a neighbor; curly and rosy…red;

(Wedded since; and a widow;something like ten years dead;)

Hearing a gush of music such as none before;

Steals from her mother's chamber and peeps at the open door。



Just as the 〃Jubilate 〃 in threaded whisper dies;

〃Open it! open it; lady!〃 the little maiden cries;

(For she thought't was a singing creature caged in a box she heard;)

〃Open it! open it; lady! and let me see the bird!〃









IV



I don't know whether our literary or professional people are more

amiable than they are in other places; but certainly quarrelling is

out of fa

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