the professor at the breakfast table-第46部分

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in　its　partial；　fragmentary　symbols。　　It　lies　deeper　than　Love；

though　very　probably　Love　is　a　part　of　it。　　Some；　I　think；

Wordsworth　might　be　one　of　them；spell　out　a　portion　of　it　from

certain　beautiful　natural　objects；　landscapes；　flowers；　and　others。

I　can　mention　several　poems　of　his　that　have　shadowy　hints　which

seem　to　me　to　come　near　the　region　where　I　think　it　lies。　　I　have

known　two　persons　who　pursued　it　with　the　passion　of　the　old

alchemists；all　wrong　evidently；　but　infatuated；　and　never　giving

up　the　daily　search　for　it　until　they　got　tremulous　and　feeble；　and

their　dreams　changed　to　visions　of　things　that　ran　and　crawled　about

their　floor　and　ceilings；　and　so　they　died。　　The　vulgar　called　them

drunkards。



I　told　you　that　I　would　let　you　know　the　mystery　of　the　effect　this

young　girl's　face　produces　on　me。　　It　is　akin　to　those　influences　a

friend　of　mine　has　described；　you　may　remember；　as　coming　from

certain　voices。　　I　cannot　translate　it　into　words；only　into

feelings；　and　these　I　have　attempted　to　shadow　by　showing　that　her

face　hinted　that　revelation　of　something　we　are　close　to　knowing；

which　all　imaginative　persons　are　looking　for　either　in　this　world

or　on　the　very　threshold　of　the　next。



You　shake　your　head　at　the　vagueness　and　fanciful

incomprehensibleness　of　my　description　of　the　expression　in　a　young

girl's　face。　　You　forget　what　a　miserable　surface…matter　this

language　is　in　which　we　try　to　reproduce　our　interior　state　of

being。　　Articulation　is　a　shallow　trick。　　From　the　light　Poh！　which

we　toss　off　from　our　lips　as　we　fling　a　nameless　scribbler's

impertinence　into　our　waste…baskets；　to　the　gravest　utterances　which

comes　from　our　throats　in　our　moments　of　deepest　need；　is　only　a

space　of　some　three　or　four　inches。　　Words；　which　are　a　set　of

clickings；　hissings；　lispings；　and　so　on；　mean　very　little；　compared

to　tones　and　expression　of　the　features。　　I　give　it　up；　I　thought　I

could　shadow　forth　in　some　feeble　way；　by　their　aid；　the　effect　this

young　girl's　face　produces　on　my　imagination；　but　it　is　of　no　use。

No　doubt　your　head　aches；　trying　to　make　something　of　my

description。　　If　there　is　here　and　there　one　that　can　make　anything

intelligible　out　of　my　talk　about　the　Great　Secret；　and　who　has

spelt　out　a　syllable　or　two　of　it　on　some　woman's　face；　dead　or

living；　that　is　all　I　can　expect。　　One　should　see　the　person　with

whom　he　converses　about　such　matters。　　There　are　dreamy…eyed　people

to　whom　I　should　say　all　these　things　with　a　certainty　of　being

understood；



　　　　　　　　　　That　moment　that　his　face　I　see；

　　　　　　　　　　I　know　the　man　that　must　hear　me

　　　　　　　　　　To　him　my　tale　I　teach。



I　am　afraid　some　of　them　have　not　got　a　spare　quarter　of　a　dollar

for　this　August　number；　so　that　they　will　never　see　it。



Let　us　start　again；　just　as　if　we　had　not　made　this　ambitious

attempt；　which　may　go　for　nothing；　and　you　can　have　your　money

refunded；　if　you　will　make　the　change。



This　young　girl；　about　whom　I　have　talked　so　unintelligibly；　is　the

unconscious　centre　of　attraction　to　the　whole　solar　system　of　our

breakfast…table。　　The　Little　Gentleman　leans　towards　her；　and　she

again　seems　to　be　swayed　as　by　some　invisible　gentle　force　towards

him。　　That　slight　inclination　of　two　persons　with　a　strong　affinity

towards　each　other；　throwing　them　a　little　out　of　plumb　when　they

sit　side　by　side；　is　a　physical　fact　I　have　often　noticed。　　Then

there　is　a　tendency　in　all　the　men's　eyes　to　converge　on　her；　and　I

do　firmly　believe；　that；　if　all　their　chairs　were　examined；　they

would　be　found　a　little　obliquely　placed；　so　as　to　favor　the

direction　in　which　their　occupants　love　to　look。



That　bland；　quiet　old　gentleman；　of　whom　I　have　spoken　as　sitting

opposite　to　me；　is　no　exception　to　the　rule。　　She　brought　down　some

mignonette　one　morning；　which　she　had　grown　in　her　chamber。　　She

gave　a　sprig　to　her　little　neighbor；　and　one　to　the　landlady；　and

sent　another　by　the　hand　of　Bridget　to　this　old　gentleman。



Sarvant；　Ma'am　I　Much　obleeged；he　said；　and　put　it　gallantly　in

his　button…hole。　After　breakfast　he　must　see　some　of　her　drawings。

Very　fine　performances；very　fine！　truly　elegant　productions；

truly　elegant！　Had　seen　Miss　Linwood's　needlework　in　London；　in

the　year　（eighteen　hundred　and　little　or　nothing；　I　think　he　said；）…

patronized　by　the　nobility　and　gentry；　and　Her　Majesty；elegant；

truly　elegant　productions；　very　fine　performances；　these　drawings

reminded　him　of　them；wonderful　resemblance　to　Nature；　an

extraordinary　art；　painting；　Mr。　Copley　made　some　very　fine　pictures

that　he　remembered　seeing　when　he　was　a　boy。　　Used　to　remember　some

lines　about　a　portrait　Written　by　Mr。　Cowper；　beginning；



　　　　　　　　　　Oh　that　those　lips　had　language！　Life　has　pass'd

　　　　　　　　　　With　me　but　roughly　since　I　heard　thee　last。〃



And　with　this　the　old　gentleman　fell　to　thinking　about　a　dead　mother

of　his　that　he　remembered　ever　so　much　younger　than　he　now　was；　and

looking；　not　as　his　mother；　but　as　his　daughter　should　look。　　The

dead　young　mother　was　looking　at　the　old　man；　her　child；　as　she　used

to　look　at　him　so　many；　many　years　ago。　　He　stood　still　as　if　in　a

waking　dream；　his　eyes　fixed　on　the　drawings　till　their　outlines

grew　indistinct　and　they　ran　into　each　other；　and　a　pale；　sweet　face

shaped　itself　out　of　the　glimmering　light　through　which　he　saw　them。

What　is　there　quite　so　profoundly　human　as　an　old　man's　memory　of

a　mother　who　died　in　his　earlier　years？　　Mother　she　remains　till

manhood；　and　by…and…by　she　grows　to　be　as　a　sister；　and　at　last；

when；　wrinkled　and　bowed　and　broken；　he　looks　back　upon　her　in　her

fair　youth；　he　sees　in　the　sweet　image　he　caresses；　not　his　parent；

but；　as　it　were；　his　child。



If　I　had　not　seen　all　this　in　the　old　gentleman's　face；　the　words

with　which　he　broke　his　silence　would　have　betrayed　his　train　of

thought。



If　they　had　only　taken　pictures　then　as　they　do　now！he　said。

All　gone！　all　gone！　nothing　but　her　face　as　she　leaned　on　the　arms

of　her　great　chair；　and　I　would　give　a　hundred　pound　for　the　poorest

little　picture　of　her；　such　as　you　can　buy　for　a　shilling　of　anybody

that　you　don't　want　to　see。　The　old　gentleman　put　his　hand　to　his

forehead　so　as　to　shade　his　eyes。　　I　saw　he　was　looking　at　the　dim

photograph　of　memory；　and　turned　from　him　to　Iris。



How　many　drawing…books　have　you　filled；I　said；since　you　began　to

take　lessons？　This　was　the　first；she　answered；since　she　was

here；　and　it　was　not　full；　but　there　were　many　separate　sheets　of

large　size　she　had　covered　with　drawings。



I　turned　over　the　leaves　of　the　book　before　us。　　Academic　studies；

principally　of　the　human　figure。　　Heads　of　sibyls；　prophets；　and　so

forth。　　Limbs　from　statues。　　Hands　and　feet　from　Nature。　　What　a

superb　drawing　of　an　arm！　　I　don't　remember　it　among　the　figures

from　Michel　Angelo；　which　seem　to　have　been　her　patterns　mainly。

》From　Nature；　I　think；　or　after　a