the notch on the ax and on being found out-第55章

按键盘上方向键 ← 或 → 可快速上下翻页，按键盘上的 Enter 键可回到本书目录页，按键盘上方向键 ↑ 可回到本页顶部！
————未阅读完？加入书签已便下次继续阅读！



What　a　wonderful　and　beautiful　provision　of　nature　it　has　been
that；　for　the　most　part；　our　womankind　are　not　endowed　with　the
faculty　of　finding　us　out！　　THEY　don't　doubt；　and　probe；　and　weigh；
and　take　your　measure。　　Lay　down　this　paper；　my　benevolent　friend
and　reader；　go　into　your　drawing…room　now；　and　utter　a　joke　ever　so
old；　and　I　wager　sixpence　the　ladies　there　will　all　begin　to　laugh。
Go　to　Brown's　house；　and　tell　Mrs。　Brown　and　the　young　ladies　what
you　think　of　him；　and　see　what　a　welcome　you　will　get！　　In　like
manner；　let　him　come　to　your　house；　and　tell　YOUR　good　lady　his
candid　opinion　of　you；　and　fancy　how　she　will　receive　him！　　Would
you　have　your　wife　and　children　know　you　exactly　for　what　you　are；
and　esteem　you　precisely　at　your　worth？　　If　so；　my　friend；　you　will
live　in　a　dreary　house；　and　you　will　have　but　a　chilly　fireside。
Do　you　suppose　the　people　round　it　don't　see　your　homely　face　as
under　a　glamour；　and；　as　it　were；　with　a　halo　of　love　round　it？
You　don't　fancy　you　ARE　as　you　seem　to　them？　　No　such　thing；　my
man。　　Put　away　that　monstrous　conceit；　and　be　thankful　that　THEY
have　not　found　you　out。



The　Notch　on　the　Ax

A　Story　a　la　Mode*


*　（Here　Thackeray　reduces　to　an　absurdity　the　literary　fashion　of
the　daythe　vogue　for　startling　stories　and　〃Tales　of　Terror；〃
which　was　high　in　his　time；　and　which　influenced　several　of　the
stories　which　precede　in　this　volume。　　But　while　Dickens　made　fun；
with　mental　reservations；　while　Bulwer　Lytton　tried　to　explain　by
rising　to　the　heights　of　natural　philosophy；　and　Maturin　did　not
explain　at　all；　but　let　his　extravagant　genius　roam　between　heaven
and　earthThackeray's　keen　wit　saw　mainly　one　chance　for　exquisite
literary　satire　and　parody。　　At　one　point　or　another　in　this　skit；
the　style　of　each　principal　sensational　novelist　of　the　day　is
delightfully　imitated。EDITOR。）


I


Every　one　remembers　in　the　Fourth　Book　of　the　immortal　poem　of　your
Blind　Bard　（to　whose　sightless　orbs　no　doubt　Glorious　Shapes　were
apparent；　and　Visions　Celestial）；　how　Adam　discourses　to　Eve　of　the
Bright　Visitors　who　hovered　round　their　Eden


　　　　　'Millions　of　spiritual　creatures　walk　the　earth；
　　　　　　Unseen；　both　when　we　wake　and　when　we　sleep。'


〃'How　often；'　says　Father　Adam；　'from　the　steep　of　echoing　hill　or
thicket；　have　we　heard　celestial　voices　to　the　midnight　air；　sole；
or　responsive　to　each　other's　notes；　singing！'　　After　the　Act　of
Disobedience；　when　the　erring　pair　from　Eden　took　their　solitary
way；　and　went　forth　to　toil　and　trouble　on　common　earththough　the
Glorious　Ones　no　longer　were　visible；　you　cannot　say　they　were
gone。　　It　was　not　that　the　Bright　Ones　were　absent；　but　that　the
dim　eyes　of　rebel　man　no　longer　could　see　them。　　In　your　chamber
hangs　a　picture　of　one　whom　you　never　knew；　but　whom　you　have　long
held　in　tenderest　regard；　and　who　was　painted　for　you　by　a　friend
of　mine；　the　Knight　of　Plympton。　　She　communes　with　you。　　She
smiles　on　you。　　When　your　spirits　are　low；　her　bright　eyes　shine　on
you　and　cheer　you。　　Her　innocent　sweet　smile　is　a　caress　to　you。
She　never　fails　to　soothe　you　with　her　speechless　prattle。　　You
love　her。　　She　is　alive　with　you。　　As　you　extinguish　your　candle
and　turn　to　sleep；　though　your　eyes　see　her　not；　is　she　not　there
still　smiling？　　As　you　lie　in　the　night　awake；　and　thinking　of　your
duties；　and　the　morrow's　inevitable　toil　oppressing　the　busy；
weary；　wakeful　brain　as　with　a　remorse；　the　crackling　fire　flashes
up　for　a　moment　in　the　grate；　and　she　is　there；　your　little
Beauteous　Maiden；　smiling　with　her　sweet　eyes！　　When　moon　is　down；
when　fire　is　out；　when　curtains　are　drawn；　when　lids　are　closed；　is
she　not　there；　the　little　Beautiful　One；　though　invisible；　present
and　smiling　still？　　Friend；　the　Unseen　Ones　are　round　about　us。
Does　it　not　seem　as　if　the　time　were　drawing　near　when　it　shall　be
given　to　men　to　behold　them？〃

The　print　of　which　my　friend　spoke；　and　which；　indeed；　hangs　in　my
room；　though　he　has　never　been　there；　is　that　charming　little
winter　piece　of　Sir　Joshua；　representing　the　little　Lady　Caroline
Montague；　afterwards　Duchess　of　Buccleuch。　　She　is　represented　as
standing　in　the　midst　of　a　winter　landscape；　wrapped　in　muff　and
cloak；　and　she　looks　out　of　her　picture　with　a　smile　so　exquisite
that　a　Herod　could　not　see　her　without　being　charmed。

〃I　beg　your　pardon；　Mr。　PINTO；〃　I　said　to　the　person　with　whom　I
was　conversing。　　（I　wonder；　by　the　way；　that　I　was　not　surprised　at
his　knowing　how　fond　I　am　of　this　print。）　　〃You　spoke　of　the　Knight
of　Plympton。　　Sir　Joshua　died　1792：　and　you　say　he　was　your　dear
friend？〃

As　I　spoke　I　chanced　to　look　at　Mr。　Pinto；　and　then　it　suddenly
struck　me：　Gracious　powers！　　Perhaps　you　ARE　a　hundred　years　old；
now　I　think　of　it。　　You　look　more　than　a　hundred。　　Yes；　you　may　be
a　thousand　years　old　for　what　I　know。　　Your　teeth　are　false。　　One
eye　is　evidently　false。　　Can　I　say　that　the　other　is　not？　　If　a
man's　age　may　be　calculated　by　the　rings　round　his　eyes；　this　man
may　be　as　old　as　Methuselah。　　He　has　no　beard。　　He　wears　a　large
curly　glossy　brown　wig；　and　his　eyebrows　are　painted　a　deep　olive…
green。　　It　was　odd　to　hear　this　man；　this　walking　mummy；　talking
sentiment；　in　these　queer　old　chambers　in　Shepherd's　Inn。

Pinto　passed　a　yellow　bandanna　handkerchief　over　his　awful　white
teeth；　and　kept　his　glass　eye　steadily　fixed　on　me。　　〃Sir　Joshua's
friend？〃　said　he　（you　perceive；　eluding　my　direct　question）。　　〃Is
not　everyone　that　knows　his　pictures　Reynolds's　friend？　　Suppose　I
tell　you　that　I　have　been　in　his　painting　room　scores　of　times；　and
that　his　sister　The　has　made　me　tea；　and　his　sister　Toffy　has　made
coffee　for　me？　　You　will　only　say　I　am　an　old　ombog。〃　　（Mr。　Pinto；
I　remarked；　spoke　all　languages　with　an　accent　equally　foreign。）
〃Suppose　I　tell　you　that　I　knew　Mr。　Sam　Johnson；　and　did　not　like
him？　that　I　was　at　that　very　ball　at　Madame　Cornelis'；　which　you
have　mentioned　in　one　of　your　littlewhat　do　you　call　them？bah！
my　memory　begins　to　fail　mein　one　of　your　little　Whirligig
Papers？　　Suppose　I　tell　you　that　Sir　Joshua　has　been　here；　in　this
very　room？〃

〃Have　you；　then；　had　these　apartments　formorethanseventy
years？〃　I　asked。

〃They　look　as　if　they　had　not　been　swept　for　that　timedon't　they？
Hey？　　I　did　not　say　that　I　had　them　for　seventy　years；　but　that　Sir
Joshua　has　visited　me　here。〃

〃When？〃　I　asked；　eying　the　man　sternly；　for　I　began　to　think　he　was
an　impostor。

He　answered　me　with　a　glance　still　more　stern：　〃Sir　Joshua　Reynolds
was　here　this　very　morning；　with　Angelica　Kaufmann　and　Mr。　Oliver
Goldschmidt。　　He　is　still　very　much　attached　to　Angelica；　who　still
does　not　care　for　him。　　Because　he　is　dead　（and　I　was　in　the　fourth
mourning　coach　at　his　funeral）　is　that　any　reason　why　he　should　not
come　back　to　earth　again？　　My　good　sir；　you　are　laughing　at　me。　　He
has　sat　many　a　time　on　that　very　chair　which　you　are　now　occupying。
There　are　several　spirits　in　the　room　now；　whom　you　cannot　see。
Excuse　me。〃　　Here　he　turned　round　as　if　he　was　addressing　somebody；
and　began　rapidly　speaking　a　language　unknown　to　me。　　〃It　is
Arabic；〃　he　said；　〃a　bad　patois；　I　own。　　I　learned　it　in　Barbary；
when　I　was　a　prisoner　among　the　Moors。　　In　anno　1609；　bin　ick　aldus
ghekledt　gheghaen。　　Ha！　you　doubt　me：　look　at　me　well。　　At　least　I
am　like〃

Perhaps　some　of　my　readers　remember　a　paper　of　which　the　figure　of
a　man　carrying　a　barrel　formed　the　initial　letter；　and　which　I
copied　from　an　old　spoon　now　in　my　possession。　　As　I　looked　at　Mr。
Pinto　I　do　declare　he　looked　so　like　the　figure　on　that　old　piece
of　plate　that　I　started　and　felt　very　uneasy。　　〃Ha！〃　said　he；
laughing　through　his　false　teeth　（I　declare　they　were　falseI
could　see　utterly　toothless　gums　working　up　and　down　behind　the
pink　coral）；　〃you　see　I　wore　a　beard　den；　I　am　shafed　now；　perhaps
you　tink　I　am　A　SPOON。　　Ha；　ha！〃　　And　as　he　laughed　he　gave　a　cough
which　I　thought　would　have　coughed　his　teeth　out；　his　glass　eye
out；　his　wig　off；　his　very　head　off；　but　he　stopped　this　convulsion
by　stumping　across　the　room　and　seizing　a　little　bottle　of　bright
pink　medicine；　w