the poet at the breakfast table-第12章

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the　world　is　done　by　them。　　Do　you　know　they　play　the　part　in　the
household　which　the　king's　jester；　who　very　often　had　a　mighty　long
head　under　his　cap　and　bells；　used　to　play　for　a　monarch？　　There　's
no　radical　club　like　a　nest　of　little　folks　in　a　nursery。　　Did　you
ever　watch　a　baby's　fingers？　　I　have；　often　enough；　though　I　never
knew　what　it　was　to　own　one。…The　Master　paused　half　a　minute　or
so；sighed；perhaps　at　thinking　what　he　had　missed　in　life；looked
up　at　me　a　little　vacantly。　　I　saw　what　was　the　matter；　he　had　lost
the　thread　of　his　talk。

Baby's　fingers；I　intercalated。

…Yes；　yes；　did　you　ever　see　how　they　will　poke　those　wonderful　little
fingers　of　theirs　into　every　fold　and　crack　and　crevice　they　can　get
at？　　That　is　their　first　education；　feeling　their　way　into　the　solid
facts　of　the　material　world。　　When　they　begin　to　talk　it　is　the　same
thing　over　again　in　another　shape。　　If　there　is　a　crack　or　a　flaw　in
your　answer　to　their　confounded　shoulder…hitting　questions；　they　will
poke　and　poke　until　they　have　got　it　gaping　just　as　the　baby's
fingers　have　made　a　rent　out　of　that　atom　of　a　hole　in　his　pinafore
that　your　old　eyes　never　took　notice　of。　　Then　they　make　such　fools
of　us　by　copying　on　a　small　scale　what　we　do　in　the　grand　manner。　　I
wonder　if　it　ever　occurs　to　our　dried…up　neighbor　there　to　ask
himself　whether　That　Boy's　collection　of　flies　is　n't　about　as
significant　in　the　Order　of　Things　as　his　own　Museum　of　Beetles？

I　couldn't　help　thinking　that　perhaps　That　Boy's　questions　about
the　simpler　mysteries　of　life　might　have　a　good　deal　of　the　same　kind
of　significance　as　the　Master's　inquiries　into　the　Order　of　Things。

On　my　left；　beyond　my　next　neighbor　the　Scarabee；　at　the　end　of　the
table；　sits　a　person　of　whom　we　know　little；　except　that　he　carries
about　him　more　palpable　reminiscences　of　tobacco　and　the　allied
sources　of　comfort　than　a　very　sensitive　organization　might　find
acceptable。　　The　Master　does　not　seem　to　like　him　much；　for　some
reason　or　other；perhaps　he　has　a　special　aversion　to　the　odor　of
tobacco。　　As　his　forefinger　shows　a　little　too　distinctly　that　he
uses　a　pen；　I　shall　compliment　him　by　calling　him　the　Man　of　Letters；
until　I　find　out　more　about　him。

The　Young　Girl　who　sits　on　my　right；　next　beyond　the　Master；　can
hardly　be　more　than　nineteen　or　twenty　years　old。　　I　wish　I　could
paint　her　so　as　to　interest　others　as　much　as　she　does　me。　　But　she
has　not　a　profusion　of　sunny　tresses　wreathing　a　neck　of　alabaster；
and　a　cheek　where　the　rose　and　the　lily　are　trying　to　settle　their
old　quarrel　with　alternating　victory。　　Her　hair　is　brown；　her　cheek
is　delicately　pallid；　her　forehead　is　too　ample　for　a　ball…room
beauty's。　　A　single　faint　line　between　the　eyebrows　is　the　record　of
longcontinued　anxious　efforts　to　please　in　the　task　she　has　chosen；
or　rather　which　has　been　forced　upon　her。　　It　is　the　same　line　of
anxious　and　conscientious　effort　which　I　saw　not　long　since　on　the
forehead　of　one　of　the　sweetest　and　truest　singers　who　has　visited
us；　the　same　which　is　so　striking　on　the　masks　of　singing　women
painted　upon　the　facade　of　our　Great　Organ；that　Himalayan　home　of
harmony　which　you　are　to　see　and　then　die；　if　you　don't　live　where
you　can　see　and　hear　it　often。　　Many　deaths　have　happened　in　a
neighboring　large　city　from　that　well…known　complaint；　Icterus
Invidiosorum；　after　returning　from　a　visit　to　the　Music　Hall。　　The
invariable　symptom　of　a　fatal　attack　is　the　Risus　Sardonicus。But
the　Young　Girl。　　She　gets　her　living　by　writing　stories　for　a
newspaper。　　Every　week　she　furnishes　a　new　story。　　If　her　head　aches
or　her　heart　is　heavy；　so　that　she　does　not　come　to　time　with　her
story；　she　falls　behindhand　and　has　to　live　on　credit。　　It　sounds
well　enough　to　say　that　〃she　supports　herself　by　her　pen；〃　but　her
lot　is　a　trying　one；　it　repeats　the　doom　of　the　Danaides。　　The
〃Weekly　Bucket〃　has　no　bottom；　and　it　is　her　business　to　help　fill
it。　　Imagine　for　one　moment　what　it　is　to　tell　a　tale　that　must　flow
on；　flow　ever；　without　pausing；　the　lover　miserable　and　happy　this
week；　to　begin　miserable　again　next　week　and　end　as　before；　the
villain　scowling；　plotting；　punished；　to　scowl；　plot；　and　get
punished　again　in　our　next；　an　endless　series　of　woes　and　busses；
into　each　paragraph　of　which　the　forlorn　artist　has　to　throw　all　the
liveliness；　all　the　emotion；　all　the　graces　of　style　she　is　mistress
of；　for　the　wages　of　a　maid　of　all　work；　and　no　more　recognition　or
thanks　from　anybody　than　the　apprentice　who　sets　the　types　for　the
paper　that　prints　her　ever…ending　and　ever…beginning　stories。　　And
yet　she　has　a　pretty　talent；　sensibility；　a　natural　way　of　writing；
an　ear　for　the　music　of　verse；　in　which　she　sometimes　indulges　to
vary　the　dead　monotony　of　everlasting　narrative；　and　a　sufficient
amount　of　invention　to　make　her　stories　readable。　　I　have　found　my
eyes　dimmed　over　them　oftener　than　once；　more　with　thinking　about
her；　perhaps；　than　about　her　heroes　and　heroines。　　Poor　little　body！
Poor　little　mind！　　Poor　little　soul！　　She　is　one　of　that　great
company　of　delicate；　intelligent；　emotional　young　creatures；　who　are
waiting；　like　that　sail　I　spoke　of；　for　some　breath　of　heaven　to　fill
their　white　bosoms；love；　the　right　of　every　woman；　religious
emotion；　sister　of　love；　with　the　same　passionate　eyes；　but　cold；
thin；　bloodless　hands；some　enthusiasm　of　humanity　or　divinity；　and
find　that　life　offers　them；　instead；　a　seat　on　a　wooden　bench；　a
chain　to　fasten　them　to　it；　and　a　heavy　oar　to　pull　day　and　night。
We　read　the　Arabian　tales　and　pity　the　doomed　lady　who　must　amuse　her
lord　and　master　from　day　to　day　or　have　her　head　cut　off；　how　much
better　is　a　mouth　without　bread　to　fill　it　than　no　mouth　at　all　to
fill；　because　no　head？　　We　have　all　round　us　a　weary…eyed　company　of
Scheherezades！　　This　is　one　of　them；　and　I　may　call　her　by　that　name
when　it　pleases　me　to　do　so。

The　next　boarder　I　have　to　mention　is　the　one　who　sits　between　the
Young　Girl　and　the　Landlady。　　In　a　little　chamber　into　which　a　small
thread　of　sunshine　finds　its　way　for　half　an　hour　or　so　every　day
during　a　month　or　six　weeks　of　the　spring　or　autumn；　at　all　other
times　obliged　to　content　itself　with　ungilded　daylight；　lives　this
boarder；　whom；　without　wronging　any　others　of　our　company；　I　may
call；　as　she　is　very　generally　called　in　the　household；　The　Lady。　　In
giving　her　this　name　it　is　not　meant　that　there　are　no　other　ladies
at　our　table；　or　that　the　handmaids　who　serve　us　are　not　ladies；　or
to　deny　the　general　proposition　that　everybody　who　wears　the
unbifurcated　garment　is　entitled　to　that　appellation。　　Only　this　lady
has　a　look　and　manner　which　there　is　no　mistaking　as　belonging　to　a
person　always　accustomed　to　refined　and　elegant　society。　　Her　style
is　perhaps　a　little　more　courtly　and　gracious　than　some　would　like。
The　language　and　manner　which　betray　the　habitual　desire　of　pleasing；
and　which　add　a　charm　to　intercourse　in　the　higher　social　circles；
are　liable　to　be　construed　by　sensitive　beings　unused　to　such
amenities　as　an　odious　condescension　when　addressed　to　persons　of
less　consideration　than　the　accused；　and　as　a　still　more　odiousyou
know　the　wordwhen　directed　to　those　who　are　esteemed　by　the　world
as　considerable　person　ages。　　But　of　all　this　the　accused　are
fortunately　wholly　unconscious；　for　there　is　nothing　so　entirely
natural　and　unaffected　as　the　highest　breeding。

》From　an　aspect　of　dignified　but　undisguised　economy　which　showed
itself　in　her　dress　as　well　as　in　her　limited　quarters；　I　suspected　a
story　of　shipwrecked　fortune；　and　determined　to　question　our
Landlady。　　That　worthy　woman　was　delighted　to　tell　the　history　of　her
most　distinguished　boarder。　　She　was；　as　I　had　supposed；　a
gentlewoman　whom　a　change　of　circumstances　had　brought　down　from　her
high　estate。

Did　I　know　the　Goldenrod　family？Of　course　I　did。…Well；　the
Lady；　was　first　cousin　to　Mrs。　Midas　Goldenrod。　　She　had　been　here　in
her　carriage　to　call　upon　her；not　very　often。…Were　her　rich
relations　kind　and　helpful　to　her？Well；　yes；　at　least　they　made　her
presents　now　and　then。　　Three　or　four　years　ago　they　sen