the poet at the breakfast table-第63章
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I； philosophers and philanthropists as we may think ourselves； have a
dislike for the enforced economies； proper and honorable though they
certainly are； of those who are two or three degrees below us in the
scale of agreeable living。
These are very worthy persons you have been living with； my dear；
said Mrs。 Midas＇the 〃My dear 〃 was an expression which had flowered
out more luxuriantly than ever before in the new streak of sunshine＇
eminently respectable parties； I have no question； but then we
shall want you to move as soon as possible to our quarter of the
town； where we can see more of you than we have been able to in this
queer place。
It was not very pleasant to listen to this kind of talk； but the Lady
remembered her annual bouquet； and her occasional visits from the
rich lady； and restrained the inclination to remind her of the humble
sphere from which she herself； the rich and patronizing personage；
had worked her way up （if it was up） into that world which she seemed
to think was the only one where a human being could find life worth
having。 Her cheek flushed a little； however； as she said to Mrs。
Midas that she felt attached to the place where she had been living
so long。 She doubted； she was pleased to say； whether she should
find better company in any circle she was like to move in than she
left behind her at our boarding…house。 I give the old Master the
credit of this compliment。 If one does not agree with half of what
he says； at any rate he always has something to say； and entertains
and lets out opinions and whims and notions of one kind and another
that one can quarrel with if he is out of humor； or carry away to
think about if he happens to be in the receptive mood。
But the Lady expressed still more strongly the regret she should feel
at leaving her young friend； our Scheherezade。 I cannot wonder at
this。 The Young Girl has lost what little playfulness she had in the
earlier months of my acquaintance with her。 I often read her stories
partly from my interest in her； and partly because I find merit
enough in them to deserve something； better than the rough handling
they got from her coarse…fibred critic； whoever he was。 I see
evidence that her thoughts are wandering from her task； that she has
fits of melancholy； and bursts of tremulous excitement； and that she
has as much as she can do to keep herself at all to her stated；
inevitable； and sometimes almost despairing literary labor。 I have
had some acquaintance with vital phenomena of this kind； and know
something of the nervous nature of young women and its 〃magnetic
storms；〃 if I may borrow an expression from the physicists； to
indicate the perturbations to which they are liable。 She is more in
need of friendship and counsel now than ever before； it seems to me；
and I cannot bear to think that the Lady； who has become like a
mother to her； is to leave her to her own guidance。
It is plain enough what is at the bottom of this disturbance。 The
astronomical lessons she has been taking have become interesting
enough to absorb too much of her thoughts； and she finds them
wandering to the stars or elsewhere； when they should be working
quietly in the editor's harness。
The Landlady has her own views on this matter which she communicated
to me something as follows：
I don't quite like to tell folks what a lucky place my boarding…
house is； for fear I should have all sorts of people crowding in to
be my boarders for the sake of their chances。 Folks come here poor
and they go away rich。 Young women come here without a friend in the
world； and the next thing that happens is a gentleman steps up to 'em
and says； 〃If you'll take me for your pardner for life； I'll give you
a good home and love you ever so much besides〃； and off goes my young
lady…boarder into a fine three…story house； as grand as the
governor's wife； with everything to make her comfortable； and a
husband to care for her into the bargain。 That's the way it is with
the young ladies that comes to board with me； ever since the
gentleman that wrote the first book that advertised my establishment
（and never charged me a cent for it neither） merried the Schoolma'am。
And I think but that's between you and methat it 's going to be the
same thing right over again between that young gentleman and this
young girl hereif she doos n't kill herself with writing for them
news papers；it 's too bad they don't pay her more for writing her
stories； for I read one of 'em that made me cry so the Doctormy
Doctor Benjaminsaid； 〃Ma； what makes your eyes look so？〃 and wanted
to rig a machine up and look at 'em； but I told him what the matter
was； and that he needn't fix up his peeking contrivances on my
account；anyhow she's a nice young woman as ever lived； and as
industrious with that pen of hers as if she was at work with a
sewing…machine；and there ain't much difference； for that matter；
between sewing on shirts and writing on stories；one way you work
with your foot； and the other way you work with your fingers； but I
rather guess there's more headache in the stories than there is in
the stitches； because you don't have to think quite so hard while
your foot's going as you do when your fingers is at work； scratch；
scratch； scratch； scribble； scribble； scribble。
It occurred to me that this last suggestion of the Landlady was worth
considering by the soft…handed； broadcloth…clad spouters to the
laboring classes；so called in distinction from the idle people who
only contrive the machinery and discover the processes and lay out
the work and draw the charts and organize the various movements which
keep the world going and make it tolerable。 The organ…blower works
harder with his muscles； for that matter； than the organ player； and
may perhaps be exasperated into thinking himself a downtrodden martyr
because he does not receive the same pay for his services。
I will not pretend that it needed the Landlady's sagacious guess
about the Young Astronomer and his pupil to open my eyes to certain
possibilities； if not probabilities； in that direction。 Our
Scheherezade kept on writing her stories according to agreement； so
many pages for so many dollars； but some of her readers began to
complain that they could not always follow her quite so well as in
her earlier efforts。 It seemed as if she must have fits of absence。
In one instance her heroine began as a blonde and finished as a
brunette； not in consequence of the use of any cosmetic； but through
simple inadvertence。 At last it happened in one of her stories that
a prominent character who had been killed in an early page； not
equivocally； but mortally； definitively killed； done for； and
disposed of； reappeared as if nothing had happened towards the close
of her narrative。 Her mind was on something else； and she had got
two stories mixed up and sent her manuscript without having looked it
over。 She told this mishap to the Lady； as something she was
dreadfully ashamed of and could not possibly account for。 It had
cost her a sharp note from the publisher； and would be as good as a
dinner to some half…starved Bohemian of the critical press。
The Lady listened to all this very thoughtfully； looking at her with
great tenderness； and said； 〃My poor child！〃 Not another word then；
but her silence meant a good deal。
When a man holds his tongue it does not signify much。 But when a
woman dispenses with the office of that mighty member； when she
sheathes her natural weapon at a trying moment； it means that she
trusts to still more formidable enginery； to tears it may be； a
solvent more powerful than that with which Hannibal softened the
Alpine rocks； or to the heaving bosom； the sight of which has subdued
so many stout natures； or； it may be； to a sympathizing； quieting
look which says 〃Peace； be still！〃 to the winds and waves of the
little inland ocean； in a language that means more than speech。
While these matters were going on the Master and I had many talks on
many subjects。 He had found me a pretty good listener； for I had
learned that the best way of getting at what was worth having from
him was to wind him up with a question and let him run
