the angel and the author-第6章

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he　is　good　for。〃

〃But　who　is　Johnson？〃　she　demanded。　　〃Why；　that's　Johnson；〃　I　
explained〃the　thing　you've　brought　over。　　Why　on　earth　didn't　you　
leave　it　alone？　　Where's　your　woman's　instinct？〃

〃Great　heavens！〃　she　cried；　〃I　thought　it　was　Tompkins。　　I've　invited　
him；　and　he's　accepted。〃

She　was　a　stickler　for　politeness；　and　would　not　hear　of　his　being　
told　that　he　had　been　mistaken　for　an　agreeable　man；　but　that　the　
error；　most　fortunately；　had　been　discovered　in　time。　　He　started　a　
row　with　the　driver　of　the　sledge；　and　devoted　the　journey　outwards　
to　an　argument　on　the　fiscal　question。　　He　told　the　proprietor　of　the　
hotel　what　he　thought　of　German　cooking；　and　insisted　on　having　the　
windows　open。　　One　of　our　partya　German　studentsang；　
〃Deutschland；　Deutschland　uber　alles；〃which　led　to　a　heated　
discussion　on　the　proper　place　of　sentiment　in　literature；　and　a　
general　denunciation　by　Johnson　of　Teutonic　characteristics　in　
general。　　We　did　not　dance。　　Johnson　said　that；　of　course；　he　spoke　
only　for　himself；　but　the　sight　of　middle…aged　ladies　and　gentlemen　
catching　hold　of　each　other　round　the　middle　and　jigging　about　like　
children　was　to　him　rather　a　saddening　spectacle；　but　to　the　young　
such　gambolling　was　natural。　　Let　the　young　ones　indulge　themselves。　　
Only　four　of　our　party　could　claim　to　be　under　thirty　with　any　hope　
of　success。　　They　were　kind　enough　not　to　impress　the　fact　upon　us。　　
Johnson　enlivened　the　journey　back　by　a　searching　analysis　of　
enjoyment：　　Of　what　did　it　really　consist？

Yet；　on　wishing　him　〃Good…night；〃　our　chieftainess　thanked　him　for　
his　company　in　precisely　the　same　terms　she　would　have　applied　to　
Tompkins；　who；　by　unflagging　good　humour　and　tact；　would　have　made　
the　day　worth　remembering　to　us　all　for　all　time。

＇And　everyone　obtained　his　just　Deserts！＇

We　pay　dearly　for　our　want　of　sincerity。　　We　are　denied　the　payment　
of　praise：　　it　has　ceased　to　have　any　value。　　People　shake　me　warmly　
by　the　hand　and　tell　me　that　they　like　my　books。　　It　only　bores　me。　　
Not　that　I　am　superior　to　complimentnobody　isbut　because　I　cannot　
be　sure　that　they　mean　it。　　They　would　say　just　the　same　had　they　
never　read　a　line　I　had　written。　　If　I　visit　a　house　and　find　a　book　
of　mine　open　face　downwards　on　the　window…seat；　it　sends　no　thrill　of　
pride　through　my　suspicious　mind。　　As　likely　as　not；　I　tell　myself；　
the　following　is　the　conversation　that　has　taken　place　between　my　
host　and　hostess　the　day　before　my　arrival：

〃Don't　forget　that　man　J　is　coming　down　tomorrow。〃

〃To…morrow！　　I　wish　you　would　tell　me　of　these　things　a　little　
earlier。〃

〃I　did　tell　youtold　you　last　week。　　Your　memory　gets　worse　every　
day。〃

〃You　certainly　never　told　me；　or　I　should　have　remembered　it。　　Is　he　
anybody　important？〃

〃Oh；　no；　writes　books。〃

〃What　sort　of　books？I　mean；　is　he　quite　respectable？〃

〃Of　course；　or　I　should　not　have　invited　him。　　These　sort　of　people　
go　everywhere　nowadays。　　By　the　by；　have　we　got　any　of　his　books　
about　the　house？〃

〃I　don't　think　so。　　I'll　look　and　see。　　If　you　had　let　me　know　in　
time　I　could　have　ordered　one　from　Mudie's。〃

〃Well；　I've　got　to　go　to　town；　I'll　make　sure　of　it；　and　buy　one。〃

〃Seems　a　pity　to　waste　money。　　Won't　you　be　going　anywhere　near　
Mudie's？〃

〃Looks　more　appreciative　to　have　bought　a　copy。　　It　will　do　for　a　
birthday　present　for　someone。〃

On　the　other　hand；　the　conversation　may　have　been　very　different。　　My　
hostess　may　have　said：

〃Oh；　I　AM　glad　he's　coming。　　I　have　been　longing　to　meet　him　for　
years。〃

She　may　have　bought　my　book　on　the　day　of　publication；　and　be　reading　
it　through　for　the　second　time。　　She　may；　by　pure　accident；　have　left　
it　on　her　favourite　seat　beneath　the　window。　　The　knowledge　that　
insincerity　is　our　universal　garment　has　reduced　all　compliment　to　
meaningless　formula。　　A　lady　one　evening　at　a　party　drew　me　aside。　　
The　chief　guesta　famous　writerhad　just　arrived。

〃Tell　me；〃　she　said；　〃I　have　so　little　time　for　reading；　what　has　he　
done？〃

I　was　on　the　point　of　replying　when　an　inveterate　wag；　who　had　
overheard　her；　interposed　between　us。

〃'The　Cloister　and　the　Hearth；'〃　he　told　her；　〃and　'Adam　Bede。'〃

He　happened　to　know　the　lady　well。　　She　has　a　good　heart；　but　was　
ever　muddle…headed。　　She　thanked　that　wag　with　a　smile；　and　I　heard　
her　later　in　the　evening　boring　most　evidently　that　literary　lion　
with　elongated　praise　of　the　〃Cloister　and　the　Hearth〃　and　〃Adam　
Bede。〃　　They　were　among　the　few　books　she　had　ever　read；　and　talking　
about　them　came　easily　to　her。　　She　told　me　afterwards　that　she　had　
found　that　literary　lion　a　charming　man；　but　…

〃Well；〃　she　laughed；　〃he　has　got　a　good　opinion　of　himself。　　He　told　
me　he　considered　both　books　among　the　finest　in　the　English　
language。〃

It　is　as　well　always　to　make　a　note　of　the　author's　name。　　Some　
people　never　domore　particularly　playgoers。　　A　well…known　dramatic　
author　told　me　he　once　took　a　couple　of　colonial　friends　to　a　play　of　
his　own。　　It　was　after　a　little　dinner　at　Kettner's；　they　suggested　
the　theatre；　and　he　thought　he　would　give　them　a　treat。　　He　did　not　
mention　to　them　that　he　was　the　author；　and　they　never　looked　at　the　
programme。　　Their　faces　as　the　play　proceeded　lengthened；　it　did　not　
seem　to　be　their　school　of　comedy。　　At　the　end　of　the　first　act　they　
sprang　to　their　feet。

〃Let's　chuck　this　rot；〃　suggested　one。

〃Let's　go　to　the　Empire；〃　suggested　the　other。　　The　well…known　
dramatist　followed　them　out。　　He　thinks　the　fault　must　have　been　with　
the　dinner。

A　young　friend　of　minea　man　of　good　familycontracted　a　
mesalliance：　　that　is；　he　married　the　daughter　of　a　Canadian　farmer；　
a　frank；　amiable　girl；　bewitchingly　pretty；　with　more　character　in　
her　little　finger　than　some　girls　possess　in　their　whole　body。　　I　met　
him　one　day；　some　three　months　after　his　return　to　London。

＇And　only　people　would　do　Parlour　Tricks　who　do　them　well！＇

〃Well；〃　I　asked　him；　〃how　is　it　shaping？〃

〃She　is　the　dearest　girl　in　the　world；〃　he　answered。　　〃She　has　only　
got　one　fault；　she　believes　what　people　say。〃

〃She　will　get　over　that；〃　I　suggested。

〃I　hope　she　does；〃　he　replied；　〃it's　awkward　at　present。〃

〃I　can　see　it　leading　her　into　difficulty；〃　I　agreed。

〃She　is　not　accomplished；〃　he　continued。　　He　seemed　to　wish　to　talk　
about　it　to　a　sympathetic　listener。　　〃She　never　pretended　to　be　
accomplished。　　I　did　not　marry　her　for　her　accomplishments。　　But　now　
she　is　beginning　to　think　she　must　have　been　accomplished　all　the　
time；　without　knowing　it。　　She　plays　the　piano　like　a　schoolgirl　on　a　
parents'　visiting…day。　　She　told　them　she　did　not　playnot　worth　
listening　toat　least；　she　began　by　telling　them　so。　　They　insisted　
that　she　did；　that　they　had　heard　about　her　playing；　and　were　
thirsting　to　enjoy　it。　　She　is　good　nature　itself。　　She　would　stand　
on　her　head　if　she　thought　it　would　give　real　joy　to　anyone。　　She　
took　it　they　really　wanted　to　hear　her；　and　so　let　'em　have　it。　　They　
tell　her　that　her　touch　is　something　quite　out　of　the　commonwhich　
is　the　truth；　if　only　she　could　understand　itwhy　did　she　never　
think　of　taking　up　music　as　a　profession？　　By　this　time　she　is　
wondering　herself　that　she　never　did。　　They　are　not　satisfied　with　
hearing　her　once。　　They　ask　for　more；　and　they　get　it。　　The　other　
evening　I　had　to　keep　quiet　on　my　chair　while　she　thumped　through　
four　pieces　one　after　the　other；　including　the　Beethoven　Sonata。　　We　
knew　it　was　the　Beethoven　Sonata。　　She　told　us　before　she　started　it　
was　going　to　be　the　Beethoven　Sonata；　otherwise；　for　all　any　of　us　
could　have　guessed；　it　might　have　been　the　'Battle　of　Prague。'　　We　
all　sat　round　with　wooden　faces；　staring　at　our　boots。　　Afterwards　
those　of　them　that　couldn't　get　near　enough　to　her　to　make　a　fool　of　
her　crowded　round　me。　　Wanted　to　know　why　I　had　never　told　them　I　had　
discovered　a　musical　prodigy。　　I'll　lose　my　temper　one　day　and　pull　
somebody's　nose；　I　feel　I　shall。　　She's　got　a　recitation；　whether　
intended　to　be　serious　or　comic　I　had　never　been　able　to　make　up　my　
mind。　　The　way　she　gives　it　confers　upon　it　all　the　disadvantages　of　
both。　　It　is　chiefly　concerned　with　an　angel　and　a　child。　　But　a　dog　
comes　into　it　about　the　middle；　and　from　that　point　onward　it　is　
impossible　to　tell　who　is　talkingsometimes　you　think　it　is　the　
angel；　and　then　it　sounds　more　like　the　dog。　　The　child　is　the　
easiest　to　follow：　　it　talks　all　the　time　through　its　nose。　　If　I　
have　heard　that　recitation　once　I　have　heard　it　fifty　times；　and　now　
she　is　busy　learning　an　encore。

＇And　all　the　World　had　Sense！＇

〃What　hurts　me　most；〃　he　went　on；　〃is　having　to　watch　her　making　
herself　ridiculous。　　Yet　what　am　I　to　do？　　If　I　explain　things　to　her　
she　will　be　miserable　and　ashamed　of　herself；　added　to　which　her　
franknessperhaps　her　greatest　charmwill　be　murdered。　　The　trouble　
runs　through　everything。　　She　won't　take　my　advice　about　her　frocks。　　
She　laughs；　and　repeats　to　mewell；　the　lies　that　other　women　tell　a　
girl　who　is　spoiling　herself　by　dressing　absurdly；　especially　when　
she　is　a　pretty　girl　and　they　are　anxious　she　should　go　on　spoiling　
herself。　　She　bought　a　hat　last　week；　one　day　when　I　was　not　with　
her。　　It　only　wants　the　candles　to　look　like　a　Christmas　tree。　　They　
insist　on　her　taking　it　off　so　they　may　examine　it　more　closely；　with　
the　idea　of　having　one　built　like　it　for　themselves；　and　she　sits　by　
delighted；　and　explains　to　them　the　secret　of　the　thing。　　We　get　to　
parties　half　an　hour　before　the　opening　time；　she　is　afraid　of　being　
a　minute　late。　　They　have　told　her　that　the　party　can't　begin　without　
herisn't　worth　calling　a　party　till　she's　there。　　We　are　always　the　
last　to　go。　　The　other　people　don't　matter；　but　if　she　goes　they　will　
feel　the　whole　thing　has　been　a　failure。　　She　is　dead　for　want　of　
sleep；　and　they　are　sick　and　tired　of　us；　but　if　I　look　at　my　watch　
they　talk　as　if　their　hearts　were　breaking；　and　she　thinks　me　a　brute　
for　wanting　to　leave　friends　so　passionately　attached　to　us。

〃Why　do　we　all　play　this　silly　game；　what　is　the　sense　of　it？〃　he　
wanted　to　know。

I　could　not　tell　him。



CHAPTER　VI



＇Fire　and　the　Foreigner。＇

They　are　odd　folk；　these　foreigners。　　There　are　moments　of　despair　
when　I　almost　give　them　upfeel　I　don't　care　what　becomes　of　them
feel　as　if　I　could　let　them　muddle　on　in　their　own　waywash　my　hands　
of　them；　so　to　speak；　and　attend　exclusively　to　my　own　business：　　we　
all　have　our　days　of　feebleness。　　They　will　sit　outside　a　cafe　on　a　
freezing　night；　with　an　east　wind　blowing；　and　play　dominoes。　　They　
will　stand　outside　a　tramcar；　rushing　through　the　icy　air　at　fifteen　
miles　an　hour；　and　refuse　to　go　inside；　even　to　oblige　a　lady。　　Yet　
in　railway　carriages；　in　which　you　could　grill　a　bloater　by　the　
simple　process　of　laying　it　underneath　the　seat；　they　will　insist　on　
the　window　being　closed；　light　cigars　to　keep　their　noses　warm；　and　
sit　with　the　collars　of　their　fur　coats　buttoned　up　around　their　
necks。

In　their　houses　they　keep　the　double　windows　hermetically　sealed　for　
three　or　fou