the professor at the breakfast table-第33章

按键盘上方向键 ← 或 → 可快速上下翻页，按键盘上的 Enter 键可回到本书目录页，按键盘上方向键 ↑ 可回到本页顶部！
————未阅读完？加入书签已便下次继续阅读！



social　layers；so　inherent　in　their　whole　mode　of　being；　that　the

holiest　offices　of　religion　cannot　exclude　its　impertinences；the

good　man　would　have　given　his　marriage…fee　twice　over　to　recall　that

superb　and　full…blown　vulgarism。　　Any　persons　whom　it　could　please

could　have　no　better　notion　of　what　the　words　referred　to　signify

than　of　the　meaning　of　apsides　and　asymptotes。



MAN！　　Sir！　　WOMAN！　　Sir！　　Gentility　is　a　fine　thing；　not　to　be

undervalued；　as　I　have　been　trying　to　explain；　but　humanity　comes

before　that。



　　　　　　　　　〃When　Adam　delved　and　Eve　span；

　　　　　　　　　　Who　was　then　the　gentleman？〃



The　beauty　of　that　plainness　of　speech　and　manners　which　comes　from

the　finest　training　is　not　to　be　understood　by　those　whose　habitat

is　below　a　certain　level。　　Just　as　the　exquisite　sea…anemones　and

all　the　graceful　ocean…flowers　die　out　at　some　fathoms　below　the

surface；　the　elegances　and　suavities　of　life　die　out　one　by　one　as

we　sink　through　the　social　scale。　　Fortunately；　the　virtues　are　more

tenacious　of　life；　and　last　pretty　well　until　we　get　down　to　the　mud

of　absolute　pauperism；　where　they　do　not　flourish　greatly。



I　had　almost　forgotten　about　our　boarders。　　As　the　Model　of　all

the　Virtues　is　about　to　leave　us；　I　find　myself　wondering　what　is

the　reason　we　are　not　all　very　sorry。　　Surely　we　all　like　good

persons。　　She　is　a　good　person。　　Therefore　we　like　her。　Only　we

don't。



This　brief　syllogism；　and　its　briefer　negative；　involving　the

principle　which　some　English　conveyancer　borrowed　from　a　French　wit

and　embodied　in　the　lines　by　which　Dr。　Fell　is　made　unamiably

immortal；　this　syllogism；　I　say；　is　one　that　most　persons　have　had

occasion　to　construct　and　demolish；　respecting　somebody　or　other；　as

I　have　done　for　the　Model。　　〃Pious　and　painefull。〃　　Why　has　that

excellent　old　phrase　gone　out　of　use？　　Simply　because　these　good

painefull　or　painstaking　persons　proved　to　be　such　nuisances　in　the

long　run；　that　the　word　〃painefull〃　came；　before　people　thought　of

it；　to　mean　pain…giving　instead　of　painstaking。



So；　the　old　fellah's　off　to…morrah；said　the　young　man　John。



Old　fellow？said　I；whom　do　you　mean？



Why；　the　one　that　came　with　our　little　beauty；　the　old　fellah　in

petticoats。



Now　that　means　something；said　I　to　myself。　These　rough　young

rascals　very　often　hit　the　nail　on　the　head；　if　they　do　strike　with

their　eyes　shut。　　A　real　woman　does　a　great　many　things　without

knowing　why　she　does　them；　but　these　pattern　machines　mix　up　their

intellects　with　everything　they　do；　just　like　men。　　They　can't　help

it；　no　doubt；　but　we　can't　help　getting　sick　of　them；　either。

Intellect　is　to　a　woman's　nature　what　her　watch…spring　skirt　is　to

her　dress；　it　ought　to　underlie　her　silks　and　embroideries；　but　not

to　show　itself　too　staringly　on　the　outside。　…You　don't　know；

perhaps；　but　I　will　tell　you；　the　brain　is　the　palest　of　all　the

internal　organs；　and　the　heart　the　reddest。　　Whatever　comes　from　the

brain　carries　the　hue　of　the　place　it　came　from；　and　whatever　comes

from　the　heart　carries　the　heat　and　color　of　its　birthplace。



The　young　man　John　did　not　hear　my　soliloquy；　of　course；　but　sent　up

one　more　bubble　from　our　sinking　conversation；　in　the　form　of　a

statement；　that　she　was　at　liberty　to　go　to　a　personage　who　receives

no　visits；　as　is　commonly　supposed；　from　virtuous　people。



Why；　I　ask　again；　（of　my　reader；）　should　a　person　who　never　did

anybody　any　wrong；　but；　on　the　contrary；　is　an　estimable　and

intelligent；　nay；　a　particularly　enlightened　and　exemplary　member　of

society；　fail　to　inspire　interest；　love；　and　devotion？　　Because　of

the　reversed　current　in　the　flow　of　thought　and　emotion。　　The　red

heart　sends　all　its　instincts　up　to　the　white　brain　to　be　analyzed；

chilled；　blanched；　and　so　become　pure　reason；　which　is　just　exactly

what　we　do　not　want　of　woman　as　woman。　　The　current　should　run　the

other…way。　　The　nice；　calm；　cold　thought；　which　in　women　shapes

itself　so　rapidly　that　they　hardly　know　it　as　thought；　should　always

travel　to　the　lips　via　the　heart。　　It　does　so　in　those　women　whom

all　love　and　admire。　　It　travels　the　wrong　way　in　the　Model。　　That

is　the　reason　why　the　Little　Gentleman　said　〃I　hate　her；　I　hate

her。〃　　That　is　the　reason　why　the　young　man　John　called　her　the　〃old

fellah；〃　and　banished　her　to　the　company　of　the　great　Unpresentable。

That　is　the　reason　why　I；　the　Professor；　am　picking　her　to　pieces

with　scalpel　and　forceps。　　That　is　the　reason　why　the　young　girl

whom　she　has　befriended　repays　her　kindness　with　gratitude　and

respect；　rather　than　with　the　devotion　and　passionate　fondness　which

lie　sleeping　beneath　the　calmness　of　her　amber　eyes。　　I　can　see　her；

as　she　sits　between　this　estimable　and　most　correct　of　personages

and　the　misshapen；　crotchety；　often　violent　and　explosive　little　man

on　the　other　side　of　her；　leaning　and　swaying　towards　him　as　she

speaks；　and　looking　into　his　sad　eyes　as　if　she　found　some　fountain

in　them　at　which　her　soul　could　quiet　its　thirst。



Women　like　the　Model　are　a　natural　product　of　a　chilly　climate　and

high　culture。　　It　is　not



　　　　〃The　frolic　wind　that　breathes　the　spring；

　　　　　Zephyr　with　Aurora　playing；〃



when　the　two　meet



　　　　〃…on　beds　of　violets　blue；

　　　　　And　fresh…blown　roses　washed　in　dew；〃



that　claim　such　women　as　their　offspring。　　It　is　rather　the　east

wind；　as　it　blows　out　of　the　fogs　of　Newfoundland；　and　clasps　a

clear…eyed　wintry　noon　on　the　chill　bridal　couch　of　a　New　England

ice…quarry。　Don't　throw　up　your　cap　now；　and　hurrah　as　if　this

were　giving　up　everything；　and　turning　against　the　best　growth　of

our　latitudes；the　daughters　of　the　soil。　　The　brain…women　never

interest　us　like　the　heart　women；　white　roses　please　less　than　red。

But　our　Northern　seasons　have　a　narrow　green　streak　of　spring；　as

well　as　a　broad　white　zone　of　winter；they　have　a　glowing　band　of

summer　and　a　golden　stripe　of　autumn　in　their　many…colored　wardrobe；

and　women　are　born　to　us　that　wear　all　these　hues　of　earth　and

heaven　in　their　souls。　　Our　ice…eyed　brain…women　are　really

admirable；　if　we　only　ask　of　them　just　what　they　can　give；　and　no

more。　　Only　compare　them；　talking　or　writing；　with　one　of　those

babbling；　chattering　dolls；　of　warmer　latitudes；　who　do　not　know

enough　even　to　keep　out　of　print；　and　who　are　interesting　to　us　only

as　specimens　of　arrest　of　development　for　our　psychological

cabinets。



Good…bye；　Model　of　all　the　Virtues！　　We　can　spare　you　now。　　A　little

clear　perfection；　undiluted　with　human　weakness；　goes　a　great　way。

Go！　be　useful；　be　honorable　and　honored；　be　just；　be　charitable；

talk　pure　reason；　and　help　to　disenchant　the　world　by　the　light　of

an　achromatic　understanding。　　Goodbye！　　Where　is　my　Beranger？　　I

must　read　a　verse　or　two　of　〃Fretillon。〃



Fair　play　for　all。　　But　don't　claim　incompatible　qualities　for

anybody。　　Justice　is　a　very　rare　virtue　in　our　community。

Everything　that　public　sentiment　cares　about　is　put　into　a　Papin's

digester；　and　boiled　under　high　pressure　till　all　is　turned　into　one

homogeneous　pulp；　and　the　very　bones　give　up　their　jelly。　　What　are

all　the　strongest　epithets　of　our　dictionary　to　us　now？　　The　critics

and　politicians；　and　especially　the　philanthropists；　have　chewed

them；　till　they　are　mere　wads　of　syllable…fibre；　without　a

suggestion　of　their　old　pungency　and　power。



Justice！　　A　good　man　respects　the　rights　even　of　brute　matter　and

arbitrary　symbols。　　If　he　writes　the　same　word　twice　in　succession；

by　accident；　he　always　erases　the　one　that　stands　second；　has　not

the　first…comer　the　prior　right？　　This　act　of　abstract　justice；

which　I　trust　many　of　my　readers；　like　myself；　have　often　performed；

is　a　curious　anti…illustration；　by　the　way；　of　the　absolute

wickedness　of　human　dispositions。　　Why　doesn't　a　man　always　strike

out　the　first　of　the　two　words；　to　gratify　his　diabolical　love　of

injustice？



So；　I