tracks of a rolling stone-第57部分

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　chosen　three。　　The　arduous　task　completed；　Thornton　Hunt　　presented　each　of　his　three　friends　with　a　number　of　　autographic　letters；　which；　according　to　Miss　Bird's　　description；　he　took　almost　at　random　from　the　eliminated　　pile。　　Amongst　the　lot　that　fell　to　Miss　Bird's　share　was　a　　roll　of　stained　paper　tied　up　with　tape。　　This　she　was　led　to　　suppose　…　she　never　carefully　examined　it　…　might　be　either　a　　copy　or　a　draft　of　some　friend's　unpublished　poem。

The　unknown　treasure　was　put　away　in　a　drawer　with　the　rest。　　　Here　it　remained　undisturbed　for　forty…three　years。　　Having　　now　occasion　to　remove　these　papers；　she　opened　the　forgotten　　scroll；　and　was　at　once　struck　both　with　the　words　of　the　　'Hyperion；'　and　with　the　resemblance　of　the　writing　to　　Keats's。

She　forthwith　consulted　the　Keepers　of　the　Manuscripts　in　the　　British　Museum；　with　the　result　that　her　TROUVAILLE　was　　immediately　identified　as　the　poet's　own　draft　of　the　　'Hyperion。'　　The　responsible　authorities　soon　after；　offered　　the　fortunate　possessor　five　hundred　guineas　for　the　　manuscript；　but　courteously　and　honestly　informed　her　that；　　were　it　put　up　to　auction；　some　American　collector　would　be　　almost　sure　to　give　a　much　larger　sum　for　it。

Miss　Bird's　patriotism　prevailed　over　every　other　　consideration。　　She　expressed　her　wish　that　the　poem　should　　be　retained　in　England；　and　generously　accepted　what　was　　indubitably　less　than　its　market　value。



CHAPTER　XLVII



A　MAN　whom　I　had　known　from　my　school…days；　Frederick　　Thistlethwayte；　coming　into　a　huge　fortune　when　a　subaltern　　in　a　marching　regiment；　had　impulsively　married　a　certain　　Miss　Laura　Bell。　　In　her　early　days；　when　she　made　her　first　　appearance　in　London　and　in　Paris；　Laura　Bell's　extraordinary　　beauty　was　as　much　admired　by　painters　as　by　men　of　the　　world。　　Amongst　her　reputed　lovers　were　Dhuleep　Singh；　the　　famous　Marquis　of　Hertford；　and　Prince　Louis　Napoleon。　　She　　was　the　daughter　of　an　Irish　constable；　and　began　life　on　the　　stage　at　Dublin。　　Her　Irish　wit　and　sparkling　merriment；　her　　cajolery；　her　good　nature　and　her　feminine　artifice；　were　　attractions　which；　in　the　eyes　of　the　male　sex；　fully　atoned　　for　her　youthful　indiscretions。

My　intimacy　with　both　Mr。　and　Mrs。　Thistlethwayte　extended　　over　many　years；　and　it　is　but　justice　to　her　memory　to　aver　　that；　to　the　best　of　my　belief；　no　wife　was　ever　more　　faithful　to　her　husband。　　I　speak　of　the　Thistlethwaytes　here　　for　two　reasons　…　absolutely　unconnected　in　themselves；　yet　　both　interesting　in　their　own　way。　　The　first　is；　that　at　my　　friend's　house　in　Grosvenor　Square　I　used　frequently　to　meet　　Mr。　Gladstone；　sometimes　alone；　sometimes　at　dinner。　　As　may　　be　supposed；　the　dinner　parties　were　of　men；　but　mostly　of　　men　eminent　in　public　life。　　The　last　time　I　met　Mr。　　Gladstone　there　the　Duke　of　Devonshire　and　Sir　W。　Harcourt　　were　both　present。　　I　once　dined　with　Mrs。　Thistlethwayte　in　　the　absence　of　her　husband；　when　the　only　others　were　Munro　　of　Novar　…　the　friend　of　Turner；　and　the　envied　possessor　of　　a　splendid　gallery　of　his　pictures　…　and　the　Duke　of　　Newcastle　…　then　a　Cabinet　Minister。　　Such　were　the　　notabilities　whom　the　famous　beauty　gathered　about　her。

But　it　is　of　Mr。　Gladstone　that　I　would　say　a　word。　　The　　fascination　which　he　exercised　over　most　of　those　who　came　　into　contact　with　him　is　incontestable；　and　everyone　is　　entitled　to　his　own　opinion；　even　though　unable　to　account　　for　it。　　This；　at　least；　must　be　my　plea；　for　to　me；　Mr。　　Gladstone　was　more　or　less　a　Dr。　Fell。　　Neither　in　his　public　　nor　in　his　private　capacity　had　I　any　liking　for　him。　　Nobody　　cares　a　button　for　what　a　'man　in　the　street'　like　me　says　or　　thinks　on　subject　matters　upon　which　they　have　made　up　their　　minds。　　I　should　not　venture；　even　as　one　of　the　crowd；　to　　deprecate　a　popularity　which　I　believe　to　be　fast　passing　　away；　were　it　not　that　better　judges　and　wiser　men　think　as　I　　do；　and　have　represented　opinions　which　I　sincerely　share。　　　'He　was　born；'　says　Huxley；　'to　be　a　leader　of　men；　and　he　　has　debased　himself　to　be　a　follower　of　the　masses。　　If　　working　men　were　to…day　to　vote　by　a　majority　that　two　and　　two　made　five；　to…morrow　Gladstone　would　believe　it；　and　find　　them　reasons　for　it　which　they　had　never　dreamt　of。'　　Could　　any　words　be　truer？　　Yes；　he　was　not　born　to　be　a　leader　of　　men。　　He　was　born　to　be；　what　he　was　…　a　misleader　of　men。　　　Huxley　says　he　could　be　made　to　believe　that　two　and　two　made　　five。　　He　would　try　to　make　others　believe　it；　but　would　he　　himself　believe　it？　　His　friends　will　plead；　'he　might　　deceive　himself　by　the　excessive　subtlety　of　his　mind。'　　This　　is　the　charitable　view　to　take。　　But　some　who　knew　him　long　　and　well　put　another　construction　upon　this　facile　self…　deception。　　There　were；　and　are；　honourable　men　of　the　　highest　standing　who　failed　to　ascribe　disinterested　motives　　to　the　man　who　suddenly　and　secretly　betrayed　his　colleagues；　　his　party；　and　his　closest　friends；　and　tried　to　break　up　the　　Empire　to　satisfy　an　inordinate　ambition；　and　an　insatiable　　craving　for　power。　　'He　might　have　been　mistaken；　but　he　　acted　for　the　best'？　　　Was　he　acting　conscientiously　for　the　　best　in　persuading　the　'masses'　to　look　upon　the　'classes'　…　　the　war　cries　are　of　his　coining　…　as　their　natural　enemies；　　and　worthy　only　of　their　envy　and　hatred？　　Is　this　the　part　　of　a　statesman；　of　a　patriot？

And　for　what　else　shall　we　admire　Mr。　Gladstone？　　Walter　　Bagehot；　alluding　to　his　egotism；　wrote　of　him　in　his　　lifetime；　'He　longs　to　pour　forth　his　own　belief；　he　cannot　　rest　till　he　has　contradicted　everyone　else。'　　And　what　was　　that　belief　worth？　　'He　has　scarcely；'　says　the　same　writer；　　'given　us　a　sentence　that　lives　in　the　memory。'

Even　his　eloquent　advocate；　Mr。　Morley；　confesses　surprise　at　　his　indifference　to　the　teaching　of　evolution；　in　other　　words；　his　ignorance　of；　and　disbelief　in；　a　scientific　　theory　of　nature　which　has　modified　the　theological　and　moral　　creeds　of　the　civilised　world　more　profoundly　than　did　the　　Copernican　system　of　the　Universe。

The　truth　is；　Mr。　Gladstone　was　half　a　century　behind　the　age　　in　everything　that　most　deeply　concerned　the　destiny　of　man。　　　He　was　a　politician；　and　nothing　but　a　politician；　and　had　it　　not　been　for　his　extraordinary　gift　of　speech；　we　should　　never　have　heard　of　him　save　as　a　writer　of　scholia；　or　as　a　　college　don；　perhaps。　　Not　for　such　is　the　temple　of　Fame。


Fama　di　loro　il　mondo　esser　non　lassa。


Whatever　may　be　thought　now；　Mr。　Gladstone　is　not　the　man　　whom　posterity　will　ennoble　with　the　title　of　either　'great'　　or　'good。'

My　second　reason　for　mentioning　Frederick　Thistlethwayte　was　　one　which　at　first　sight　may　seem　trivial；　and　yet；　when　we　　look　into　it；　is　of　more　importance　than　the　renown　of　an　ex…　Prime　Minister。　　If　these　pages　are　ever　read；　what　follows　　will　be　as　distasteful　to　some　of　my　own　friends　as　the　above　　remarks　to　Mr。　Gladstone's。

Pardon　a　word　about　the　writer　himself　…　it　is　needed　to　　emphasise　and　justify　these　OBITER　DICTA。　　I　was　brought　up　　as　a　sportsman：　　I　cannot　remember　the　days　when　I　began　to　　shoot。　　I　had　a　passion　for　all　kinds　of　sport；　and　have　had　　opportunities　of　gratifying　it　such　as　fall　to　the　lot　of　　few。　　After　the　shootings　of　Glenquoich　and　Invergarry　were　　lost　to　me　through　the　death　of　Mr。　Ellice；　I　became　almost　　the　sole　guest　of　Mr。　Thistlethwayte　for　twelve　years　at　his　　Highland　shooting　of　Kinlochmohr；　not　very　far　from　Fort　　William。　　He　rented　the　splendid　deer　forest　of　Mamore；　　extensive　grouse　moors；　and　a　salmon　river　within　ten　　minutes'　walk　of　the　lodge。　　His　marriage　and　his　　eccentricities　of　mind　and　temper　led　him　to　shun　all　　society。　　We　often　lived　in　bothies　at　opposite　ends　of　the　　forest；　returning　to　the　lodge　on　Saturday　till　Monday　　morning。　　For　a　sportsman；　no　life　could　be　more　enjoyable。　　　I　was　my　own　stalker；　taking　a　couple　of　gillies　for　the　　ponies；　but　finding　the　deer　for　myself　…　always　the　most　　difficult　part　of　the　sport　…　and　stalking　them　for　myself。

I　may　here　observe　that；　not　very　long　after　I　married；　　qualms　of　conscience　smote　me　as　to　the　justifiability　of　　killing；　AND　WOUNDING；　animals　for　amusement's　sake。　　The　　more　I　thought　of　it；　the　less　it　bore　thinking　about。　　　Finally　I　gave　it　up　altogether。　　But　I　went　on　several　years　　after　this　with　the　deer…stalking；　the　true　explanation　of　　this　inconsistency　would；　I　fear；　be　that　I　had　had　enough　of　　the　one；　but　would　never　have　enough　of　the　other　…　one's　　conscience　adapts　itself　without　much　difficulty　to　one's　　inclinations。

Between　my　host　and　myself；　there　was　a　certain　amount　of　　rivalry；　and　as　the　head　forester　was　his　stalker；　the　　rivalry　between　our　men　aroused　rancorous　jealousy。　　I　think　　the　gillies　on　either　side　would　have　spoilt　the　others'　　sport；　could　they　have　done　so　with　impunity。　　For　two　　seasons；　a　very　big　stag　used　occasionally　to　find　its　way　　into　our　forest　from　the　Black　Mount；　where　it　was　also　　known。　　Thistlethwayte　had　had　a　chance；　and　missed　it；　then　　my　turn　came。　　I　got　a　long　snap…shot　end　on　at　the　galloping　　stag。　　It　was　an　unsportsmanlike　thing　to　do；　but　considering　　the　rivalry　and　other　temptations　I　fired；　and　hit　the　beast　　in　the　haunch。　　It　was　late　in　the　day；　and　the　wounded　　animal　escaped。

Nine　days　later　I　spied　the　'big　stag'　again。　　He　was　nearly　　in　the　middle　of　a　herd　of　about　twenty；　mostly　hinds；　on　the　　look…out。　　They　were　on　a　large　open　moss　at　the　bottom　of　a　　corrie；　whence　they　could　see　a　moving　object　on　every　side　　of　them。　　A　stalk　where　they　were　was　out　of　the　question。　　I　　made　up　my　mind　to　wait　and　watch。

Now　comes　the　moral　of　my　story。　　For　hours　I　watched　that　　stag。　　Though　three　hundred　yards　or　so　away　from　me；　I　could　　through　my　glass　see　almost　the　expression　of　his　face。　　Not　　once　did　he　rise　or　attempt　to　feed；　but　lay　restlessly　　beating　his　head　upon　the　ground　for　hour　after　hour。　　I　knew　　well　enough　what　that　meant。　　I　could　not　hear　his　groans。　　　His　plaints　could　not　reach　my　ears；　but　they　reached　my　　heart。　　The　refrain　varied　little：　　'How　long　shall　I　cry　and　　Thou　wilt　not　hear？'　…　that　was　the　monotonous　burden