roundabout papers-第52部分

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eroic　figures；　allAmerican　or　British；　and　the　artist　has　deserved　well　of　his　country　who　devised　them。　At　school；　in　my　time；　there　was　a　public　day；　when　the　boys'　relatives；　an　examining　bigwig　or　two　from　the　universities；　old　schoolfellows；　and　so　forth；　came　to　the　place。　　The　boys　were　all　paraded；　prizes　were　administered；　each　lad　being　in　a　new　suit　of　clothesand　magnificent　dandies；　I　promise　you；　some　of　us　were。　Oh；　the　chubby　cheeks；　clean　collars；　glossy　new　raiment；　beaming　faces；　glorious　in　youthfit　tueri　coelumbright　with　truth；　and　mirth；　and　honor！　　To　see　a　hundred　boys　marshalled　in　a　chapel　or　old　hall；　to　hear　their　sweet　fresh　voices　when　they　chant；　and　look　in　their　brave　calm　faces；　I　say；　does　not　the　sight　and　sound　of　them　smite　you；　somehow；　with　a　pang　of　exquisite　kindness？　。　。　。　Well。　　As　about　boys；　so　about　Novelists。　　I　fancy　the　boys　of　Parnassus　School　all　paraded。　　I　am　a　lower　boy　myself　in　that　academy。　　I　like　our　fellows　to　look　well；　upright；　gentlemanlike。　There　is　Master　Fieldinghe　with　the　black　eye。　　What　a　magnificent　build　of　a　boy！　　There　is　Master　Scott；　one　of　the　heads　of　the　school。　　Did　you　ever　see　the　fellow　more　hearty　and　manly？　　Yonder　lean；　shambling；　cadaverous　lad；　who　is　always　borrowing　money；　telling　lies；　leering　after　the　house…maids；　is　Master　Laurence　Sternea　bishop's　grandson；　and　himself　intended　for　the　Church；　for　shame；　you　little　reprobate！　　But　what　a　genius　the　fellow　has！　Let　him　have　a　sound　flogging；　and　as　soon　as　the　young　scamp　is　out　of　the　whipping…room　give　him　a　gold　medal。　　Such　would　be　my　practice　if　I　were　Doctor　Birch；　and　master　of　the　school。　Let　us　drop　this　school　metaphor；　this　birch　and　all　pertaining　thereto。　　Our　subject；　I　beg　leave　to　remind　the　reader's　humble　servant；　is　novel　heroes　and　heroines。　　How　do　you　like　your　heroes；　ladies？　　Gentlemen；　what　novel　heroines　do　you　prefer？　　When　I　set　this　essay　going；　I　sent　the　above　question　to　two　of　the　most　inveterate　novel…readers　of　my　acquaintance。　　The　gentleman　refers　me　to　Miss　Austen；　the　lady　says　Athos；　Guy　Livingston；　and　（pardon　my　rosy　blushes）　Colonel　Esmond；　and　owns　that　in　youth　she　was　very　much　in　love　with　Valancourt。　〃Valancourt？　and　who　was　he？〃　cry　the　young　people。　　Valancourt；　my　dears；　was　the　hero　of　one　of　the　most　famous　romances　which　ever　was　published　in　this　country。　　The　beauty　and　elegance　of　Valancourt　made　your　young　grandmammas'　gentle　hearts　to　beat　with　respectful　sympathy。　　He　and　his　glory　have　passed　away。　　Ah；　woe　is　me　that　the　glory　of　novels　should　ever　decay；　that　dust　should　gather　round　them　on　the　shelves；　that　the　annual　cheques　from　Messieurs　the　publishers　should　dwindle；　dwindle！　　Inquire　at　Mudie's；　or　the　London　Library；　who　asks　for　the　〃Mysteries　of　Udolpho〃　now？　　Have　not　even　the　〃Mysteries　of　Paris〃　ceased　to　frighten？　　Alas；　our　novels　are　but　for　a　season；　and　I　know　characters　whom　a　painful　modesty　forbids　me　to　mention；　who　shall　go　to　limbo　along　with　〃Valancourt〃　and　〃Doricourt〃　and　〃Thaddeus　of　Warsaw。〃　A　dear　old　sentimental　friend；　with　whom　I　discoursed　on　the　subject　of　novels　yesterday；　said　that　her　favorite　hero　was　Lord　Orville；　in　〃Evelina；〃　that　novel　which　Dr。　Johnson　loved　so。　　I　took　down　the　book　from　a　dusty　old　crypt　at　a　club；　where　Mrs。　Barbauld's　novelists　repose：　and　this　is　the　kind　of　thing；　ladies　and　gentlemen；　in　which　your　ancestors　found　pleasure：　〃And　here；　whilst　I　was　looking　for　the　books；　I　was　followed　by　Lord　Orville。　　He　shut　the　door　after　he　came　in；　and；　approaching　me　with　a　look　of　anxiety；　said；　'Is　this　true；　Miss　Anvilleare　you　going？'　〃'I　believe　so；　my　lord；'　said　I；　still　looking　for　the　books。　〃'So　suddenly；　so　unexpectedly：　must　I　lose　you？'　〃'No　great　loss；　my　lord；'　said　I；　endeavoring　to　speak　cheerfully。　〃'Is　it　possible；'　said　he；　gravely；　'Miss　Anville　can　doubt　my　sincerity？'　〃'I　can't　imagine；'　cried　I；　'what　Mrs。　Selwyn　has　done　with　those　books。'　〃'Would　to　heaven；'　continued　he；　'I　might　flatter　myself　you　would　allow　me　to　prove　it！'　〃'I　must　run　up　stairs；'　cried　I；　greatly　confused；　'and　ask　what　she　has　done　with　them。'　〃'You　are　going　then；'　cried　he；　taking　my　hand；　'and　you　give　me　not　the　smallest　hope　of　any　return！　　Will　you　not；　my　too　lovely　friend；　will　you　not　teach　me；　with　fortitude　like　your　own；　to　support　your　absence？'　〃'My　lord；'　cried　I；　endeavoring　to　disengage　my　hand；　'pray　let　me　go！'　〃'I　will；'　cried　he；　to　my　inexpressible　confusion；　dropping　on　one　knee；　'if　you　wish　me　to　leave　you。'　〃'Oh；　my　lord；'　exclaimed　I；　'rise；　I　beseech　you；　rise。　　Surely　your　lordship　is　not　so　cruel　as　to　mock　me。'　〃'Mock　you！'　repeated　he　earnestly；　'no；　I　revere　you。　　I　esteem　and　admire　you　above　all　human　beings！　　You　are　the　friend　to　whom　my　soul　is　attached；　as　to　its　better　half。　　You　are　the　most　amiable；　the　most　perfect　of　women；　and　you　are　dearer　to　me　than　language　has　the　power　of　telling。'　〃I　attempt　not　to　describe　my　sensations　at　that　moment；　I　scarce　breathed；　I　doubted　if　I　existed；　the　blood　forsook　my　cheeks；　and　my　feet　refused　to　sustain　me。　　Lord　Orville　hastily　rising　supported　me　to　a　chair　upon　which　I　sank　almost　lifeless。　〃I　cannot　write　the　scene　that　followed；　though　every　word　is　engraven　on　my　heart；　but　his　protestations；　his　expressions；　were　too　flattering　for　repetition；　nor　would　he；　in　spite　of　my　repeated　efforts　to　leave　him；　suffer　me　to　escape；　in　short；　my　dear　sir；　I　was　not　proof　against　his　solicitations；　and　he　drew　from　me　the　most　sacred　secret　of　my　heart！〃*

*　Contrast　this　old　perfumed；　powdered　D'Arblay　conversation　with　the　present　modern　talk。　　If　the　two　young　people　wished　to　hide　their　emotions　now…a…days；　and　express　themselves　in　modest　language；　the　story　would　run：　〃Whilst　I　was　looking　for　the　books；　Lord　Orville　came　in。　　He　looked　uncommonly　down　in　the　mouth；　as　he　said：　'Is　this　true；　Miss　Anville；　are　you　going　to　cut？'　〃'To　absquatulate；　Lord　Orville；'　said　I；　still　pretending　that　I　was　looking　for　the　books。　〃'You　are　very　quick　about　it；'　said　he。　〃'Guess　it's　no　great　loss；'　I　remarked；　as　cheerfully　as　I　could。　〃'You　don't　think　I'm　chaffing？'　said　Orville；　with　much　emotion。　〃'What　has　Mrs。　Selwyn　done　with　the　books？'　I　went　on。　〃'What；　going'　said　he；　'and　going　for　good？　　I　wish　I　was　such　a　good…plucked　one　as　you；　Miss　Anville；'〃　&c。　The　conversation；　you　perceive；　might　be　easily　written　down　to　this　key；　and　if　the　hero　and　heroine　were　modern；　they　would　not　be　suffered　to　go　through　their　dialogue　on　stilts；　but　would　converse　in　the　natural　graceful　way　at　present　customary。　　By　the　way；　what　a　strange　custom　that　is　in　modern　lady　novelists　to　make　the　men　bully　the　women！　　In　the　time　of　Miss　Porter　and　Madame　D'Arblay；　we　have　respect；　profound　bows　and　curtsies；　graceful　courtesy；　from　men　to　women。　　In　the　time　of　Miss　Bronte；　absolute　rudeness。　　Is　it　true；　mesdames；　that　you　like　rudeness；　and　are　pleased　at　being　ill…used　by　men？　　I　could　point　to　more　than　one　lady　novelist　who　so　represents　you。

Other　people　may　not　much　like　this　extract；　madam；　from　your　favorite　novel；　but　when　you　come　to　read　it；　YOU　will　like　it。　　I　suspect　that　when　you　read　that　book　which　you　so　love；　you　read　it　a　deux。　　Did　you　not　yourself　pass　a　winter　at　Bath；　when　you　were　the　belle　of　the　assembly？　　Was　there　not　a　Lord　Orville　in　your　case　too？　　As　you　think　of　him　eleven　lustres　pass　away。　　You　look　at　him　with　the　bright　eyes　of　those　days；　and　your　hero　stands　before　you；　the　brave；　the　accomplished；　the　simple；　the　true　gentleman；　and　he　makes　the　most　elegant　of　bows　to　one　of　the　most　beautiful　young　women　the　world　ever　saw；　and　he　leads　you　out　to　the　cotillon；　to　the　dear　unforgotten　music。　　Hark　to　the　horns　of　Elfand；　blowing；　blowing！　　Bonne　vieille；　you　remember　their　melody；　and　your　heart…strings　thrill　with　it　still。　Of　your　heroic　heroes；　I　think　our　friend　Monseigneur　Athos；　Count　de　la　Fere；　is　my　favorite。　　I　have　read　about　him　from　sunrise　to　sunset　with　the　utmost　contentment　of　mind。　　He　has　passed　through　how　many　volumes？　　Forty？　　Fifty？　　I　wish　for　my　part　there　were　a　hundred　more；　and　would　never　tire　of　him　reselling　prisoners；　punishing　ruffians；　and　running　scoundrels　through　the　midriff　with　his　most　graceful　rapier。　　Ah；　Athos；　Porthos；　and　Aramis；　you　are　a　magnificent　trio。　　I　think　I　like　d'Artagnan　in　his　own　memoirs　best。　　I　bought　him　years　and　years　ago；　price　fivepence；　in　a　little　parchment…covered　Cologne…printed　volume；　at　a　stall　in　Gray's　Inn　Lane。　　Dumas　glorifies　him　and　makes　a　Marshal　of　him；　if　I　remember　rightly；　the　original　d'Artagnan　was　a　needy　adventurer；　who　died　in　exile　very　early　in　Louis　XIV。's　reign。　　Did　you　ever　read　the　〃Chevalier　d'Harmenthal？〃　　Did　you　ever　read　the　〃Tulipe　Noire；〃　as　modest　as　a　story　by　Miss　Edgeworth？　　I　think　of　the　prodigal　banquets　to　which　this　Lucullus　of　a　man　has　invited　me；　with　thanks　and　wonder。　　To　what　a　series　of　splendid　entertainments　he　has　treated　me！　　Where　does　he　find　the　money　for　these　prodigious　feasts？　　They　say　that　all　the　works　bearing　Dumas's　name　are　not　written　by　him。　　Well？　　Does　not　the　chief　cook　have　aides　under　him？　　Did　not　Rubens's　pupils　paint　on　his　canvases？　　Had　not　Lawrence　assistants　for　his　backgrounds？　　For　myself；　being　also　du　metier；　I　confess　I　would　often　like　to　have　a　competent；　respectable；　and　rapid　clerk　for　the　business　part　of　my　novels；　and　on　his　arrival；　at　eleven　o'clock；　would　say；　〃Mr。　Jones；　if　you　please；　the　archbishop　must　die　this　morning　in　about　five　pages。　　Turn　to　article　'Dropsy'　（or　what　you　will）　in　Encyclopaedia。　　Take　care　there　are　no　medical　blunders　in　his　death。　　Group　his　daughters；　physicians；　and　chaplains　round　him。　　In　Wales's　'London；'　letter　B；　third　shelf；　you　will　find　an　account　of　Lambeth；　and　some　prints　of　the　place。　　Color　in　with　local　coloring。　　The　daughter　will　come　down；　and　speak　to　her　lover　in　his　wherry　at　Lambeth　Stairs；〃　&c。；　&c。　　Jones　（an　intelligent　young　man）　examines　the　medical；　historical；　topographical　books　necessary；　his　chief　points　out　to　him　in　Jeremy　Taylor　（fol。；　London；　M。DCLV。）　a　few　remarks；　such　as　might　befit　a　dear　old　archbishop　departing　this　life。　　When　I