roundabout papers-第36部分

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necdotal　powers：I　know　such；　who　very　likely　will　read　this；　and　say；　〃Hang　the　fellow；　he　means　ME！〃　　And　so　I　do。　　Nono　man　ought　to　tell　an　anecdote　more　than　thrice；　let　us　say；　unless　he　is　sure　he　is　speaking　only　to　give　pleasure　to　his　hearersunless　he　feels　that　it　is　not　a　mere　desire　for　praise　which　makes　him　open　his　jaws。　And　is　it　not　with　writers　as　with　raconteurs？　　Ought　they　not　to　have　their　ingenuous　modesty？　　May　authors　tell　old　stories；　and　how　many　times　over？　　When　I　come　to　look　at　a　place　which　I　have　visited　any　time　these　twenty　or　thirty　years；　I　recall　not　the　place　merely；　but　the　sensations　I　had　at　first　seeing　it；　and　which　are　quite　different　to　my　feelings　to…day。　　That　first　day　at　Calais；　the　voices　of　the　women　crying　out　at　night；　as　the　vessel　came　alongside　the　pier；　the　supper　at　Quillacq's　and　the　flavor　of　the　cutlets　and　wine；　the　red…calico　canopy　under　which　I　slept；　the　tiled　floor；　and　the　fresh　smell　of　the　sheets；　the　wonderful　postilion　in　his　jack…boots　and　pigtail；all　return　with　perfect　clearness　to　my　mind；　and　I　am　seeing　them；　and　not　the　objects　which　are　actually　under　my　eyes。　　Here　is　Calais。　　Yonder　is　that　commissioner　I　have　known　this　score　of　years。　　Here　are　the　women　screaming　and　hustling　over　the　baggage；　the　people　at　the　passport…　barrier　who　take　your　papers。　　My　good　people；　I　hardly　see　you。　You　no　more　interest　me　than　a　dozen　orange…women　in　Covent…Garden；　or　a　shop　book…keeper　in　Oxford　Street。　　But　you　make　me　think　of　a　time　when　you　were　indeed　wonderful　to　beholdwhen　the　little　French　soldiers　wore　white　cockades　in　their　shakoswhen　the　diligence　was　forty　hours　going　to　Paris；　and　the　great…booted　postilion；　as　surveyed　by　youthful　eyes　from　the　coupe；　with　his　jurons；　his　ends　of　rope　for　the　harness；　and　his　clubbed　pigtail；　was　a　wonderful　being；　and　productive　of　endless　amusement。　　You　young　folks　don't　remember　the　apple…girls　who　used　to　follow　the　diligence　up　the　hill　beyond　Boulogne；　and　the　delights　of　the　jolly　road？　　In　making　continental　journeys　with　young　folks；　an　oldster　may　be　very　quiet；　and；　to　outward　appearance；　melancholy；　but　really　he　has　gone　back　to　the　days　of　his　youth；　and　he　is　seventeen　or　eighteen　years　of　age　（as　the　case　may　be）；　and　is　amusing　himself　with　all　his　might。　　He　is　noting　the　horses　as　they　come　squealing　out　of　the　post…house　yard　at　midnight；　he　is　enjoying　the　delicious　meals　at　Beauvais　and　Amiens；　and　quaffing　ad　libitum　the　rich　table…d'hote　wine；　he　is　hail…fellow　with　the　conductor；　and　alive　to　all　the　incidents　of　the　road。　　A　man　can　be　alive　in　1860　and　1830　at　the　same　time；　don't　you　see？　　Bodily；　I　may　be　in　1860；　inert；　silent；　torpid；　but　in　the　spirit　I　am　walking　about　in　1828；　let　us　say；…in　a　blue　dress…coat　and　brass　buttons；　a　sweet　figured　silk　waistcoat　（which　I　button　round　a　slim　waist　with　perfect　ease）；　looking　at　beautiful　beings　with　gigot　sleeves　and　tea…tray　hats　under　the　golden　chestnuts　of　the　Tuileries；　or　round　the　Place　Vendome；　where　the　drapeau　blanc　is　floating　from　the　statueless　column。　　Shall　we　go　and　dine　at　〃Bombarda's；〃　near　the　〃Hotel　Breteuil；〃　or　at　the　〃Cafe　Virginie？〃　Away！　〃Bombarda's〃　and　the　〃Hotel　Breteuil〃　have　been　pulled　down　ever　so　long。　　They　knocked　down　the　poor　old　Virginia　Coffee…house　last　year。　　My　spirit　goes　and　dines　there。　　My　body；　perhaps；　is　seated　with　ever　so　many　people　in　a　railway…carriage；　and　no　wonder　my　companions　find　me　dull　and　silent。　　Have　you　read　Mr。　Dale　Owen's　〃Footfalls　on　the　Boundary　of　Another　World？〃（My　dear　sir；　it　will　make　your　hair　stand　quite　refreshingly　on　end。）　　In　that　work　you　will　read　that　when　gentlemen's　or　ladies'　spirits　travel　off　a　few　score　or　thousand　miles　to　visit　a　friend；　their　bodies　lie　quiet　and　in　a　torpid　state　in　their　beds　or　in　their　arm…chairs　at　home。　　So　in　this　way；　I　am　absent。　　My　soul　whisks　away　thirty　years　back　into　the　past。　　I　am　looking　out　anxiously　for　a　beard。　I　am　getting　past　the　age　of　loving　Byron's　poems；　and　pretend　that　I　like　Wordsworth　and　Shelley　much　better。　　Nothing　I　eat　or　drink　（in　reason）　disagrees　with　me；　and　I　know　whom　I　think　to　be　the　most　lovely　creature　in　the　world。　　Ah；　dear　maid　（of　that　remote　but　well…remembered　period）；　are　you　a　wife　or　widow　now？are　you　dead？are　you　thin　and　withered　and　old？or　are　you　grown　much　stouter；　with　a　false　front？　and　so　forth。　O　Eliza；　Eliza！Stay；　WAS　she　Eliza？　　Well；　I　protest　I　have　forgotten　what　your　Christian　name　was。　　You　know　I　only　met　you　for　two　days；　but　your　sweet　face　is　before　me　now；　and　the　roses　blooming　on　it　are　as　fresh　as　in　that　time　of　May。　　Ah；　dear　Miss　X；　my　timid　youth　and　ingenuous　modesty　would　never　have　allowed　me；　even　in　my　private　thoughts；　to　address　you　otherwise　than　by　your　paternal　name；　but　THAT　（though　I　conceal　it）　I　remember　perfectly　well；　and　that　your　dear　and　respected　father　was　a　brewer。

CARILLON。I　was　awakened　this　morning　with　the　chime　which　Antwerp　cathedral　clock　plays　at　half…hours。　　The　tune　has　been　haunting　me　ever　since；　as　tunes　will。　　You　dress；　eat；　drink；　walk　and　talk　to　yourself　to　their　tune：　their　inaudible　jingle　accompanies　you　all　day：　you　read　the　sentences　of　the　paper　to　their　rhythm。　　I　tried　uncouthly　to　imitate　the　tune　to　the　ladies　of　the　family　at　breakfast；　and　they　say　it　is　〃the　shadow　dance　of　Dinorah。〃　　It　may　be　so。　　I　dimly　remember　that　my　body　was　once　present　during　the　performance　of　that　opera；　whilst　my　eyes　were　closed；　and　my　intellectual　faculties　dormant　at　the　back　of　the　box；　howbeit；　I　have　learned　that　shadow　dance　from　hearing　it　pealing　up　ever　so　high　in　the　air；　at　night；　morn；　noon。　How　pleasant　to　lie　awake　and　listen　to　the　cheery　peal！　whilst　the　old　city　is　asleep　at　midnight；　or　waking　up　rosy　at　sunrise；　or　basking　in　noon；　or　swept　by　the　scudding　rain　which　drives　in　gusts　over　the　broad　places；　and　the　great　shining　river；　or　sparkling　in　snow　which　dresses　up　a　hundred　thousand　masts；　peaks；　and　towers；　or　wrapped　round　with　thunder…cloud　canopies；　before；　which　the　white　gables　shine　whiter；　day　and　night　the　kind　little　carillon　plays　its　fantastic　melodies　overhead。　　The　bells　go　on　ringing。　Quot　vivos　vocant；　mortuos　plangunt；　fulgara　frangunt；　so　on　to　the　past　and　future　tenses；　and　for　how　many　nights；　days；　and　years！　Whilst　the　French　were　pitching　their　fulgara　into　Chasse's　citadel；　the　bells　went　on　ringing　quite　cheerfully。　　Whilst　the　scaffolds　were　up　and　guarded　by　Alva's　soldiery；　and　regiments　of　penitents；　blue；　black；　and　gray；　poured　out　of　churches　and　convents；　droning　their　dirges；　and　marching　to　the　place　of　the　Hotel　de　Ville；　where　heretics　and　rebels　were　to　meet　their　doom；　the　bells　up　yonder　were　chanting　at　their　appointed　half…hours　and　quarters；　and　rang　the　mauvais　quart　d'heure　for　many　a　poor　soul。　　This　bell　can　see　as　far　away　as　the　towers　and　dykes　of　Rotterdam。　　That　one　can　call　a　greeting　to　St。　Ursula's　at　Brussels；　and　toss　a　recognition　to　that　one　at　the　town…hall　of　Oudenarde；　and　remember　how　after　a　great　struggle　there　a　hundred　and　fifty　years　ago　the　whole　plain　was　covered　with　the　flying　French　cavalryBurgundy；　and　Bern；　and　the　Chevalier　of　St。　George　flying　like　the　rest。　　〃What　is　your　clamor　about　Oudenarde？〃　says　another　bell　（Bob　Major　THIS　one　must　be）。　　〃Be　still；　thou　querulous　old　clapper！　　I　can　see　over　to　Hougoumont　and　St。　John。　　And　about　forty…five　years　since；　I　rang　all　through　one　Sunday　in　June；　when　there　was　such　a　battle　going　on　in　the　corn…fields　there；　as　none　of　you　others　ever　heard　tolled　of。　　Yes；　from　morning　service　until　after　vespers；　the　French　and　English　were　all　at　it；　ding…dong。〃　　And　then　calls　of　business　intervening；　the　bells　have　to　give　up　their　private　jangle；　resume　their　professional　duty；　and　sing　their　hourly　chorus　out　of　Dinorah。　What　a　prodigious　distance　those　bells　can　be　heard！　　I　was　awakened　this　morning　to　their　tune；　I　say。　　I　have　been　hearing　it　constantly　ever　since。　　And　this　house　whence　I　write；　Murray　says；　is　two　hundred　and　ten　miles　from　Antwerp。　　And　it　is　a　week　off；　and　there　is　the　bell　still　jangling　its　shadow　dance　out　of　Dinorah。　　An　audible　shadow　you　understand；　and　an　invisible　sound；　but　quite　distinct；　and　a　plague　take　the　tune！

UNDER　THE　BELLS。Who　has　not　seen　the　church　under　the　bells？　Those　lofty　aisles；　those　twilight　chapels；　that　cumbersome　pulpit　with　its　huge　carvings；　that　wide　gray　pavement　flecked　with　various　light　from　the　jewelled　windows；　those　famous　pictures　between　the　voluminous　columns　over　the　altars；　which　twinkle　with　their　ornaments；　their　votive　little　silver　hearts；　legs；　limbs；　their　little　guttering　tapers；　cups　of　sham　roses；　and　what　not？　　I　saw　two　regiments　of　little　scholars　creeping　in　and　forming　square；　each　in　its　appointed　place；　under　the　vast　roof；　and　teachers　presently　coming　to　them。　　A　stream　of　light　from　the　jewelled　windows　beams　slanting　down　upon　each　little　squad　of　children；　and　the　tall　background　of　the　church　retires　into　a　grayer　gloom。　Pattering　little　feet　of　laggards　arriving　echo　through　the　great　nave。　　They　trot　in　and　join　their　regiments；　gathered　under　the　slanting　sunbeams。　　What　are　they　learning？　　Is　it　truth？　　Those　two　gray　ladies　with　their　books　in　their　hands　in　the　midst　of　these　little　people　have　no　doubt　of　the　truth　of　every　word　they　have　printed　under　their　eyes。　　Look；　through　the　windows　jewelled　all　over　with　saints；　the　light　comes　streaming　down　from　the　sky；　and　heaven's　own　illuminations　paint　the　book！　　A　sweet；　touching　picture　indeed　it　is；　that　of　the　little　children　assembled　in　this　immense　temple；　which　has　endured　for　ages；　and　grave　teachers　bending　over　them。　　Yes；　the　picture　is　very　pretty　of　the　children　and　their　teachers；　and　their　bookbut　the　text？　　Is　it　the　truth；　the　only　truth；　nothing　but　the　truth？　　If　I　thought　so；　I　would　go　and　sit　down　on　the　form　cum　parvulis；　and　learn　the　precious　lesson　with　all　my　heart。

BEADLE。But　I　submit；　an　obstacle　to　conversions　is　the　intrusion　and　impertinence　of　that　Swiss　fellow　with　the　baldricthe　officer　who　answers　to　the　beadle　of　the　British　Islands；　and　is　pacing　about　the　church　with　an　eye　o