the professor at the breakfast table-第38部分

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brain　carries　the　hue　of　the　place　it　came　from；　and　whatever　comes

from　the　heart　carries　the　heat　and　color　of　its　birthplace。



The　young　man　John　did　not　hear　my　soliloquy；　of　course；　but　sent　up

one　more　bubble　from　our　sinking　conversation；　in　the　form　of　a

statement；　that　she　was　at　liberty　to　go　to　a　personage　who　receives

no　visits；　as　is　commonly　supposed；　from　virtuous　people。



Why；　I　ask　again；　（of　my　reader；）　should　a　person　who　never　did

anybody　any　wrong；　but；　on　the　contrary；　is　an　estimable　and

intelligent；　nay；　a　particularly　enlightened　and　exemplary　member　of

society；　fail　to　inspire　interest；　love；　and　devotion？　　Because　of

the　reversed　current　in　the　flow　of　thought　and　emotion。　　The　red

heart　sends　all　its　instincts　up　to　the　white　brain　to　be　analyzed；

chilled；　blanched；　and　so　become　pure　reason；　which　is　just　exactly

what　we　do　not　want　of　woman　as　woman。　　The　current　should　run　the

other…way。　　The　nice；　calm；　cold　thought；　which　in　women　shapes

itself　so　rapidly　that　they　hardly　know　it　as　thought；　should　always

travel　to　the　lips　via　the　heart。　　It　does　so　in　those　women　whom

all　love　and　admire。　　It　travels　the　wrong　way　in　the　Model。　　That

is　the　reason　why　the　Little　Gentleman　said　〃I　hate　her；　I　hate

her。〃　　That　is　the　reason　why　the　young　man　John　called　her　the　〃old

fellah；〃　and　banished　her　to　the　company　of　the　great　Unpresentable。

That　is　the　reason　why　I；　the　Professor；　am　picking　her　to　pieces

with　scalpel　and　forceps。　　That　is　the　reason　why　the　young　girl

whom　she　has　befriended　repays　her　kindness　with　gratitude　and

respect；　rather　than　with　the　devotion　and　passionate　fondness　which

lie　sleeping　beneath　the　calmness　of　her　amber　eyes。　　I　can　see　her；

as　she　sits　between　this　estimable　and　most　correct　of　personages

and　the　misshapen；　crotchety；　often　violent　and　explosive　little　man

on　the　other　side　of　her；　leaning　and　swaying　towards　him　as　she

speaks；　and　looking　into　his　sad　eyes　as　if　she　found　some　fountain

in　them　at　which　her　soul　could　quiet　its　thirst。



Women　like　the　Model　are　a　natural　product　of　a　chilly　climate　and

high　culture。　　It　is　not



　　　　〃The　frolic　wind　that　breathes　the　spring；

　　　　　Zephyr　with　Aurora　playing；〃



when　the　two　meet



　　　　〃…on　beds　of　violets　blue；

　　　　　And　fresh…blown　roses　washed　in　dew；〃



that　claim　such　women　as　their　offspring。　　It　is　rather　the　east

wind；　as　it　blows　out　of　the　fogs　of　Newfoundland；　and　clasps　a

clear…eyed　wintry　noon　on　the　chill　bridal　couch　of　a　New　England

ice…quarry。　Don't　throw　up　your　cap　now；　and　hurrah　as　if　this

were　giving　up　everything；　and　turning　against　the　best　growth　of

our　latitudes；the　daughters　of　the　soil。　　The　brain…women　never

interest　us　like　the　heart　women；　white　roses　please　less　than　red。

But　our　Northern　seasons　have　a　narrow　green　streak　of　spring；　as

well　as　a　broad　white　zone　of　winter；they　have　a　glowing　band　of

summer　and　a　golden　stripe　of　autumn　in　their　many…colored　wardrobe；

and　women　are　born　to　us　that　wear　all　these　hues　of　earth　and

heaven　in　their　souls。　　Our　ice…eyed　brain…women　are　really

admirable；　if　we　only　ask　of　them　just　what　they　can　give；　and　no

more。　　Only　compare　them；　talking　or　writing；　with　one　of　those

babbling；　chattering　dolls；　of　warmer　latitudes；　who　do　not　know

enough　even　to　keep　out　of　print；　and　who　are　interesting　to　us　only

as　specimens　of　arrest　of　development　for　our　psychological

cabinets。



Good…bye；　Model　of　all　the　Virtues！　　We　can　spare　you　now。　　A　little

clear　perfection；　undiluted　with　human　weakness；　goes　a　great　way。

Go！　be　useful；　be　honorable　and　honored；　be　just；　be　charitable；

talk　pure　reason；　and　help　to　disenchant　the　world　by　the　light　of

an　achromatic　understanding。　　Goodbye！　　Where　is　my　Beranger？　　I

must　read　a　verse　or　two　of　〃Fretillon。〃



Fair　play　for　all。　　But　don't　claim　incompatible　qualities　for

anybody。　　Justice　is　a　very　rare　virtue　in　our　community。

Everything　that　public　sentiment　cares　about　is　put　into　a　Papin's

digester；　and　boiled　under　high　pressure　till　all　is　turned　into　one

homogeneous　pulp；　and　the　very　bones　give　up　their　jelly。　　What　are

all　the　strongest　epithets　of　our　dictionary　to　us　now？　　The　critics

and　politicians；　and　especially　the　philanthropists；　have　chewed

them；　till　they　are　mere　wads　of　syllable…fibre；　without　a

suggestion　of　their　old　pungency　and　power。



Justice！　　A　good　man　respects　the　rights　even　of　brute　matter　and

arbitrary　symbols。　　If　he　writes　the　same　word　twice　in　succession；

by　accident；　he　always　erases　the　one　that　stands　second；　has　not

the　first…comer　the　prior　right？　　This　act　of　abstract　justice；

which　I　trust　many　of　my　readers；　like　myself；　have　often　performed；

is　a　curious　anti…illustration；　by　the　way；　of　the　absolute

wickedness　of　human　dispositions。　　Why　doesn't　a　man　always　strike

out　the　first　of　the　two　words；　to　gratify　his　diabolical　love　of

injustice？



So；　I　say；　we　owe　a　genuine；　substantial　tribute　of　respect　to　these

filtered　intellects　which　have　left　their　womanhood　on　the　strainer。

They　are　so　clear　that　it　is　a　pleasure　at　times　to　look　at　the

world　of　thought　through　them。　　But　the　rose　and　purple　tints　of

richer　natures　they　cannot　give　us；　and　it　is　not　just　to　them　to

ask　it。



Fashionable　society　gets　at　these　rich　natures　very　often　in　a　way

one　would　hardly　at　first　think　of。　　It　loves　vitality　above　all

things；　sometimes　disguised　by　affected　languor；　always　well　kept

under　by　the　laws　of　good…breeding；but　still　it　loves　abundant

life；　opulent　and　showy　organizations；the　spherical　rather　than

the　plane　trigonometry　of　female　architecture；plenty　of　red　blood；

flashing　eyes；　tropical　voices；　and　forms　that　bear　the　splendors　of

dress　without　growing　pale　beneath　their　lustre。　　Among　these　you

will　find　the　most　delicious　women　you　will　ever　meet；women　whom

dress　and　flattery　and　the　round　of　city　gayeties　cannot　spoil；

talking　with　whom；　you　forget　their　diamonds　and　laces；and　around

whom　all　the　nice　details　of　elegance；　which　the　cold…blooded　beauty

next　them　is　scanning　so　nicely；　blend　in　one　harmonious　whole；　too

perfect　to　be　disturbed　by　the　petulant　sparkle　of　a　jewel；　or　the

yellow　glare　of　a　bangle；　or　the　gay　toss　of　a　feather。



There　are　many　things　that　I；　personally；　love　better　than　fashion

or　wealth。　　Not　to　speak　of　those　highest　objects　of　our　love　and

loyalty；　I　think　I　love　ease　and　independence　better　than　the　golden

slavery　of　perpetual　matinees　and　soirees；　or　the　pleasures　of

accumulation。



But　fashion　and　wealth　are　two　very　solemn　realities；　which　the

frivolous　class　of　moralists　have　talked　a　great　deal　of　silly　stuff

about。　　Fashion　is　only　the　attempt　to　realize　Art　in　living　forms

and　social　intercourse。　　What　business　has　a　man　who　knows　nothing

about　the　beautiful；　and　cannot　pronounce　the　word　view；　to　talk

about　fashion　to　a　set　of　people　who；　if　one　of　the　qua