roundabout papers-第55部分

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lt；　sir；　guilt　remains　stamped　on　the　memory；　and　I　feel　easier　in　my　mind　now　that　it　is　liberated　of　this　old　peccadillo。　　I　met　my　college　tutor　only　yesterday。　　We　were　travelling；　and　stopped　at　the　same　hotel。　　He　had　the　very　next　room　to　mine。　　After　he　had　gone　into　his　apartment；　having　shaken　me　quite　kindly　by　the　hand；　I　felt　inclined　to　knock　at　his　door　and　say；　〃Doctor　Bentley；　I　beg　your　pardon；　but　do　you　remember；　when　I　was　going　down　at　the　Easter　vacation　in　1830；　you　asked　me　where　I　was　going　to　spend　my　vacation？　　And　I　said；　With　my　friend　Slingsby；　in　Huntingdonshire。　　Well；　sir；　I　grieve　to　have　to　confess　that　I　told　you　a　fib。　　I　had　got　20L。　and　was　going　for　a　lark　to　Paris；　where　my　friend　Edwards　was　staying。〃　　There；　it　is　out。　　The　Doctor　will　read　it；　for　I　did　not　wake　him　up　after　all　to　make　my　confession；　but　protest　he　shall　have　a　copy　of　this　Roundabout　sent　to　him　when　he　returns　to　his　lodge。　They　gave　me　a　bedroom　there；　a　very　neat　room　on　the　first　floor；　looking　into　the　pretty　garden。　　The　hotel　must　look　pretty　much　as　it　did　a　hundred　years　ago　when　HE　visited　it。　　I　wonder　whether　he　paid　his　bill？　　Yes：　his　journey　was　just　begun。　　He　had　borrowed　or　got　the　money　somehow。　　Such　a　man　would　spend　it　liberally　enough　when　he　had　it；　give　generouslynay；　drop　a　tear　over　the　fate　of　the　poor　fellow　whom　he　relieved。　　I　don't　believe　a　word　he　says；　but　I　never　accused　him　of　stinginess　about　money。　　That　is　a　fault　of　much　more　virtuous　people　than　he。　　Mr。　Laurence　is　ready　enough　with　his　purse　when　there　are　anybody's　guineas　in　it。　　Still　when　I　went　to　bed　in　the　room；　in　HIS　room；　when　I　think　how　I　admire；　dislike；　and　have　abused　him；　a　certain　dim　feeling　of　apprehension　filled　my　mind　at　the　midnight　hour。　　What　if　I　should　see　his　lean　figure　in　the　black…satin　breeches；　his　sinister　smile；　his　long　thin　finger　pointing　to　me　in　the　moonlight　（for　I　am　in　bed；　and　have　popped　my　candle　out）；　and　he　should　say；　〃You　mistrust　me；　you　hate　me；　do　you？　　And　you；　don't　you　know　how　Jack；　Tom；　and　Harry；　your　brother　authors；　hate　YOU？〃　　I　grin　and　laugh　in　the　moonlight；　in　the　midnight；　in　the　silence。　　〃O　you　ghost　in　black…satin　breeches　and　a　wig！　　I　like　to　be　hated　by　some　men；〃　I　say。　　〃I　know　men　whose　lives　are　a　scheme；　whose　laughter　is　a　conspiracy；　whose　smile　means　something　else；　whose　hatred　is　a　cloak；　and　I　had　rather　these　men　should　hate　me　than　not。〃　〃My　good　sir；〃　says　he；　with　a　ghastly　grin　on　his　lean　face；　〃you　have　your　wish。〃　〃Apres？〃　I　say。　　〃Please　let　me　go　to　sleep。　　I　shan't　sleep　any　the　worse　because〃　〃Because　there　are　insects　in　the　bed；　and　they　sting　you？〃　　（This　is　only　by　way　of　illustration；　my　good　sir；　the　animals　don't　bite　me　now。　　All　the　house　at　present　seems　to　me　excellently　clean。）　〃'Tis　absurd　to　affect　this　indifference。　　If　you　are　thin…skinned；　and　the　reptiles　bite；　they　keep　you　from　sleep。〃　〃There　are　some　men　who　cry　out　at　a　flea…bite　as　loud　as　if　they　were　torn　by　a　vulture；〃　I　growl。　〃Men　of　the　genus　irritabile；　my　worthy　good　gentleman！and　you　are　one。〃　〃Yes；　sir；　I　am　of　the　profession；　as　you　say；　and　I　dare　say　make　a　great　shouting　and　crying　at　a　small　hurt。〃　〃You　are　ashamed　of　that　quality　by　which　you　earn　your　subsistence；　and　such　reputation　as　you　have？　　Your　sensibility　is　your　livelihood；　my　worthy　friend。　　You　feel　a　pang　of　pleasure　or　pain？　It　is　noted　in　your　memory；　and　some　day　or　other　makes　its　appearance　in　your　manuscript。　　Why；　in　your　last　Roundabout　rubbish　you　mention　reading　your　first　novel　on　the　day　when　King　George　IV。　was　crowned。　　I　remember　him　in　his　cradle　at　St。　James's；　a　lovely　little　babe；　a　gilt　Chinese　railing　was　before　him；　and　I　dropped　the　tear　of　sensibility　as　I　gazed　on　the　sleeping　cherub。〃　〃A　teara　fiddlestick；　MR。　STERNE；〃　I　growled　out；　for　of　course　I　knew　my　friend　in　the　wig　and　satin　breeches　to　be　no　other　than　the　notorious；　nay；　celebrated　Mr。　Laurence　Sterne。　〃Does　not　the　sight　of　a　beautiful　infant　charm　and　melt　you；　mon　ami？　　If　not；　I　pity　you。　　Yes；　he　was　beautiful。　　I　was　in　London　the　year　he　was　born。　　I　used　to　breakfast　at　the　'Mount　Coffee…　house。'　　I　did　not　become　the　fashion　until　two　years　later；　when　my　'Tristram'　made　his　appearance；　who　has　held　his　own　for　a　hundred　years。　　By　the　way；　mon　bon　monsieur；　how　many　authors　of　your　present　time　will　last　till　the　next　century？　　Do　you　think　Brown　will？〃　I　laughed　with　scorn　as　I　lay　in　my　bed　（and　so　did　the　ghost　give　a　ghastly　snigger）。　〃Brown！〃　I　roared。　　〃One　of　the　most　over…rated　men　that　ever　put　pen　to　paper！〃　〃What　do　you　think　of　Jones？〃　I　grew　indignant　with　this　old　cynic。　　〃As　a　reasonable　ghost；　come　out　of　the　other　world；　you　don't　mean；〃　I　said；　〃to　ask　me　a　serious　opinion　of　Mr。　Jones？　　His　books　may　be　very　good　reading　for　maid…servants　and　school…boys；　but　you　don't　ask　ME　to　read　them？　　As　a　scholar　yourself　you　must　know　that〃　〃Well；　then；　Robinson？〃　〃Robinson；　I　am　told；　has　merit。　　I　dare　say；　I　never　have　been　able　to　read　his　books；　and　can't；　therefore；　form　any　opinion　about　Mr。　Robinson。　　At　least　you　will　allow　that　I　am　not　speaking　in　a　prejudiced　manner　about　HIM。〃　〃Ah！　I　see　you　men　of　letters　have　your　cabals　and　jealousies；　as　we　had　in　my　time。　　There　was　an　Irish　fellow　by　the　name　of　Gouldsmith；　who　used　to　abuse　me；　but　he　went　into　no　genteel　companyand　faith！　it　mattered　little；　his　praise　or　abuse。　　I　never　was　more　surprised　than　when　I　heard　that　Mr。　Irving；　an　American　gentleman　of　parts　and　elegance；　had　wrote　the　fellow's　life。　　To　make　a　hero　of　that　man；　my　dear　sir；　'twas　ridiculous！　You　followed　in　the　fashion；　I　hear；　and　chose　to　lay　a　wreath　before　this　queer　little　idol。　　Preposterous！　　A　pretty　writer；　who　has　turned　some　neat　couplets。　　Bah！　　I　have　no　patience　with　Master　Posterity；　that　has　chosen　to　take　up　this　fellow；　and　make　a　hero　of　him！　　And　there　was　another　gentleman　of　my　time；　Mr。　Thiefcatcher　Fielding；　forsooth！　a　fellow　with　the　strength；　and　the　tastes；　and　the　manners　of　a　porter！　　What　madness　has　possessed　you　all　to　bow　before　that　Calvert　Butt　of　a　man？a　creature　without　elegance　or　sensibility！　　The　dog　had　spirits；　certainly。　　I　remember　my　Lord　Bathurst　praising　them：　but　as　for　reading　his　booksma　foi；　I　would　as　lief　go　and　dive　for　tripe　in　a　cellar。　　The　man's　vulgarity　stifles　me。　　He　wafts　me　whiffs　of　gin。　　Tobacco　and　onions　are　in　his　great　coarse　laugh；　which　choke　me；　pardi；　and　I　don't　think　much　better　of　the　other　fellowthe　Scots'　gallipot　purveyor　Peregrine　Clinker；　Humphrey　Randomhow　did　the　fellow　call　his　rubbish？　　Neither　of　these　men　had　the　bel　air；　the　bon　ton；　the　je　ne　scais　quoy。　　Pah！　　If　I　meet　them　in　my　walks　by　our　Stygian　river；　I　give　them　a　wide　berth；　as　that　hybrid　apothecary　fellow　would　say。　　An　ounce　of　civet；　good　apothecary；　horrible；　horrible！　The　mere　thought　of　the　coarseness　of　those　men　gives　me　the　chair　de　poule。　　Mr。　Fielding；　especially；　has　no　more　sensibility　than　a　butcher　in　Fleet　Market。　　He　takes　his　heroes　out　of　ale…house　kitchens；　or　worse　places　still。　　And　this　is　the　person　whom　Posterity　has　chosen　to　honor　along　with　meME！　　Faith；　Monsieur　Posterity；　you　have　put　me　in　pretty　company；　and　I　see　you　are　no　wiser　than　we　were　in　our　time。　　Mr。　Fielding；　forsooth！　　Mr。　Tripe　and　Onions！　　Mr。　Cowheel　and　Gin！　　Thank　you　for　nothing。　Monsieur　Posterity！〃　〃And　so；〃　thought　I；　〃even　among　these　Stygians　this　envy　and　quarrelsomeness　（if　you　will　permit　me　the　word）　survive？　　What　a　pitiful　meanness！　　To　be　sure；　I　can　understand　this　feeling　to　a　certain　extent；　a　sense　of　justice　will　prompt　it。　　In　my　own　case；　I　often　feel　myself　forced　to　protest　against　the　absurd　praises　lavished　on　contemporaries。　　Yesterday；　for　instance；　Lady　Jones　was　good　enough　to　praise　one　of　my　works。　　Tres　bien。　　But　in　the　very　next　minute　she　began；　with　quite　as　great　enthusiasm；　to　praise　Miss　Hobson's　last　romance。　　My　good　creature；　what　is　that　woman's　praise　worth　who　absolutely　admires　the　writings　of　Miss　Hobson？　　I　offer　a　friend　a　bottle　of　'44　claret；　fit　for　a　pontifical　supper。　'This　is　capital　wine；'　says　he；　'and　now　we　have　finished　the　bottle；　will　you　give　me　a　bottle　of　that　ordinaire　we　drank　the　other　day？'　　Very　well；　my　good　man。　　You　are　a　good　judgeof　ordinaire；　I　dare　say。　　Nothing　so　provokes　my　anger；　and　rouses　my　sense　of　justice；　as　to　hear　other　men　undeservedly　praised。　　In　a　word；　if　you　wish　to　remain　friends　with　me；　don't　praise　anybody。　You　tell　me　that　the　Venus　de'　Medici　is　beautiful；　or　Jacob　Omnium　is　tall。　　Que　diable！　　Can't　I　judge　for　myself？　　Haven't　I　eyes　and　a　foot…rule？　　I　don't　think　the　Venus　IS　so　handsome；　since　you　press　me。　　She　is　pretty；　but　she　has　no　expression。　　And　as　for　Mr。　Omnium；　I　can　see　much　taller　men　in　a　fair　for　twopence。〃　〃And　so；〃　I　said；　turning　round　to　Mr。　Sterne；　〃you　are　actually　jealous　of　Mr。　Fielding？　　O　you　men　of　letters；　you　men　of　letters！　Is　not　the　world　（your　world；　I　mean）　big　enough　for　all　of　you？〃　I　often　travel　in　my　sleep。　　I　often　of　a　night　find　myself　walking　in　my　night…gown　about　the　gray　streets。　　It　is　awkward　at　first；　but　somehow　nobody　makes　any　remark。　　I　glide　along　over　the　ground　with　my　naked　feet。　　The　mud　does　not　wet　them。　　The　passers…by　do　not　tread　on　them。　　I　am　wafted　over　the　ground；　down　the　stairs；　through　the　doors。　　This　sort　of　travelling；　dear　friends；　I　am　sure　you　have　all　of　you　indulged。　Well；　on　the　night　in　question　（and；　if　you　wish　to　know　the　precise　date；　it　was　the　31st　of　September　last）；　after　having　some　little　conversation　with　Mr。　Sterne　in　our　bedroom；　I　must　have　got　up；　though　I　protest　I　don't　know　how；　and　come　down　stairs　with　him　into　the　coffee…room　of　the　〃Hotel　Dessein；〃　where　the　moon　was　shining；　and　a　cold　supper　was　laid　out。　　I　forget　what　we　had　〃vol…au…vent　d'oeufs　de　Phenixagneau　aux　pistaches　a　la　Barmecide；〃what　matters　what　we　had？　〃As　regards　supper　this　is　certain；　the　less　you　have　of　it　the　better。〃　That　is　what　one　of　the　guests　remarked；a　shabby　old　man；　in　a　wig；　and　such　a　dirty；　ragged；　disreputable　dressing…gown　that　I　should　have　been　quite　surprised　at　him；　only　one　never　IS　surprised　in　dr　under