novel notes-第30节

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and　to　spend　every　hour　he　could　spare　from　his　practice　at　one　or　other　of　the　exhibitions；　having　three…pen'orths　one　after　the　other。　　I　have　known　a　book…reviewer　give　oranges　（not　poisoned　ones）　to　children。　A　man　is　not　a　character；　he　is　a　dozen　characters；　one　of　them　prominent；　the　other　eleven　more　or　less　undeveloped。　　I　knew　a　man　once；　two　of　whose　characters　were　of　equal　value；　and　the　consequences　were　peculiar。〃

We　begged　him　to　relate　the　case　to　us；　and　he　did　so。

〃He　was　a　Balliol　man；〃　said　MacShaughnassy；　〃and　his　Christian　name　was　Joseph。　　He　was　a　member　of　the　'Devonshire'　at　the　time　I　knew　him；　and　was；　I　think；　the　most　superior　person　I　have　ever　met。　　He　sneered　at　the　Saturday　Review　as　the　pet　journal　of　the　suburban　literary　club；　and　at　the　Athenaeum　as　the　trade　organ　of　the　unsuccessful　writer。　　Thackeray；　he　considered；　was　fairly　entitled　to　his　position　of　favourite　author　to　the　cultured　clerk；　and　Carlyle　he　regarded　as　the　exponent　of　the　earnest　artisan。　　Living　authors　he　never　read；　but　this　did　not　prevent　his　criticising　them　contemptuously。　　The　only　inhabitants　of　the　nineteenth　century　that　he　ever　praised　were　a　few　obscure　French　novelists；　of　whom　nobody　but　himself　had　ever　heard。　　He　had　his　own　opinion　about　God　Almighty；　and　objected　to　Heaven　on　account　of　the　strong　Clapham　contingent　likely　to　be　found　in　residence　there。　　Humour　made　him　sad；　and　sentiment　made　him　ill。　　Art　irritated　him　and　science　bored　him。　　He　despised　his　own　family　and　disliked　everybody　else。　For　exercise　he　yawned；　and　his　conversation　was　mainly　confined　to　an　occasional　shrug。

〃Nobody　liked　him；　but　everybody　respected　him。　　One　felt　grateful　to　him　for　his　condescension　in　living　at　all。

〃One　summer；　I　was　fishing　over　the　Norfolk　Broads；　and　on　the　Bank　Holiday；　thinking　I　would　like　to　see　the　London　'Arry　in　his　glory；　I　ran　over　to　Yarmouth。　　Walking　along　the　sea…front　in　the　evening；　I　suddenly　found　myself　confronted　by　four　remarkably　choice　specimens　of　the　class。　　They　were　urging　on　their　wild　and　erratic　career　arm…in…arm。　　The　one　nearest　the　road　was　playing　an　unusually　wheezy　concertina；　and　the　other　three　were　bawling　out　the　chorus　of　a　music…hall　song；　the　heroine　of　which　appeared　to　be　'Hemmer。'

They　spread　themselves　right　across　the　pavement；　compelling　all　the　women　and　children　they　met　to　step　into　the　roadway。　　I　stood　my　ground　on　the　kerb；　and　as　they　brushed　by　me　something　in　the　face　of　the　one　with　the　concertina　struck　me　as　familiar。

〃I　turned　and　followed　them。　　They　were　evidently　enjoying　themselves　immensely。　　To　every　girl　they　passed　they　yelled　out；　'Oh；　you　little　jam　tart！'　and　every　old　lady　they　addressed　as　'Mar。'　　The　noisiest　and　the　most　vulgar　of　the　four　was　the　one　with　the　concertina。

〃I　followed　them　on　to　the　pier；　and　then；　hurrying　past；　waited　for　them　under　a　gas…lamp。　　When　the　man　with　the　concertina　came　into　the　light　and　I　saw　him　clearly　I　started。　　From　the　face　I　could　have　sworn　it　was　Joseph；　but　everything　else　about　him　rendered　such　an　assumption　impossible。　　Putting　aside　the　time　and　the　place；　and　forgetting　his　behaviour；　his　companions；　and　his　instrument；　what　remained　was　sufficient　to　make　the　suggestion　absurd。　　Joseph　was　always　clean　shaven；　this　youth　had　a　smudgy　moustache　and　a　pair　of　incipient　red　whiskers。　　He　was　dressed　in　the　loudest　check　suit　I　have　ever　seen；　off　the　stage。　　He　wore　patent…leather　boots　with　mother…of…pearl　buttons；　and　a　necktie　that　in　an　earlier　age　would　have　called　down　lightning　out　of　Heaven。　　He　had　a　low…crowned　billycock　hat　on　his　head；　and　a　big　evil…smelling　cigar　between　his　lips。

〃Argue　as　I　would；　however；　the　face　was　the　face　of　Joseph；　and；　moved　by　a　curiosity　I　could　not　control；　I　kept　near　him；　watching　him。

〃Once；　for　a　little　while；　I　missed　him；　but　there　was　not　much　fear　of　losing　that　suit　for　long；　and　after　a　little　looking　about　I　struck　it　again。　　He　was　sitting　at　the　end　of　the　pier；　where　it　was　less　crowded；　with　his　arm　round　a　girl's　waist。　　I　crept　close。　She　was　a　jolly；　red…faced　girl；　good…looking　enough；　but　common　to　the　last　degree。　　Her　hat　lay　on　the　seat　beside　her；　and　her　head　was　resting　on　his　shoulder。　　She　appeared　to　be　fond　of　him；　but　he　was　evidently　bored。

〃'Don'tcher　like　me；　Joe？'　I　heard　her　murmur。

〃'Yas；'　he　replied；　somewhat　unconvincingly；　'o'　course　I　likes　yer。'

〃She　gave　him　an　affectionate　slap；　but　he　did　not　respond；　and　a　few　minutes　afterwards；　muttering　some　excuse；　he　rose　and　left　her；　and　I　followed　him　as　he　made　his　way　towards　the　refreshment…room。　At　the　door　he　met　one　of　his　pals。

〃'Hullo！'　was　the　question；　'wot　'a　yer　done　wi'　'Liza？'

〃'Oh；　I　carn't　stand　'er；'　was　his　reply；　'she　gives　me　the　bloomin'　'ump。　　You　'ave　a　turn　with　'er。'

〃His　friend　disappeared　in　the　direction　of　'Liza；　and　Joe　pushed　into　the　room；　I　keeping　close　behind　him。　　Now　that　he　was　alone　I　was　determined　to　speak　to　him。　　The　longer　I　had　studied　his　features　the　more　resemblance　I　had　found　in　them　to　those　of　my　superior　friend　Joseph。

〃He　was　leaning　across　the　bar；　clamouring　for　two　of　gin；　when　I　tapped　him　on　the　shoulder。　　He　turned　his　head；　and　the　moment　he　saw　me；　his　face　went　livid。

〃'Mr。　Joseph　Smythe；　I　believe；'　I　said　with　a　smile。

〃'Who's　Mr。　Joseph　Smythe？'　he　answered　hoarsely；　'my　name's　Smith；　I　ain't　no　bloomin'　Smythe。　　Who　are　you？　　I　don't　know　yer。'

〃As　he　spoke；　my　eyes　rested　upon　a　curious　gold　ring　of　Indian　workmanship　which　he　wore　upon　his　left　hand。　　There　was　no　mistaking　the　ring；　at　all　events：　　it　had　been　passed　round　the　club　on　more　than　one　occasion　as　a　unique　curiosity。　　His　eyes　followed　my　gaze。　　He　burst　into　tears；　and　pushing　me　before　him　into　a　quiet　corner　of　the　saloon；　sat　down　facing　me。

〃'Don't　give　me　away；　old　man；'　he　whimpered；　'for　Gawd's　sake；　don't　let　on　to　any　of　the　chaps　'ere　that　I'm　a　member　of　that　blessed　old　waxwork　show　in　Saint　James's：　　they'd　never　speak　to　me　agen。　　And　keep　yer　mug　shut　about　Oxford；　there's　a　good　sort。　　I　wouldn't　'ave　'em　know　as　'ow　I　was　one　o'　them　college　blokes　for　anythink。'

〃I　sat　aghast。　　I　had　listened　to　hear　him　entreat　me　to　keep　'Smith；'　the　rorty　'Arry；　a　secret　from　the　acquaintances　of　'Smythe；'　the　superior　person。　　Here　was　'Smith'　in　mortal　terror　lest　his　pals　should　hear　of　his　identity　with　the　aristocratic　'Smythe；'　and　discard　him。　　His　attitude　puzzled　me　at　the　time；　but；　when　I　came　to　reflect；　my　wonder　was　at　myself　for　having　expected　the　opposite。

〃'I　carn't　'elp　it；'　he　went　on；　'I　'ave　to　live　two　lives。　　'Arf　my　time　I'm　a　stuck…up　prig；　as　orter　be　jolly　well　kicked'

〃'At　which　times；'　I　interrupted；　'I　have　heard　you　express　some　extremely　uncomplimentary　opinions　concerning　'Arries。'

〃'I　know；'　he　replied；　in　a　voice　betraying　strong　emotion；　'that's　where　it's　so　precious　rough　on　me。　　When　I'm　a　toff　I　despises　myself；　'cos　I　knows　that　underneath　my　sneering　phiz　I'm　a　bloomin'　'Arry。　　When　I'm　an　'Arry；　I　'ates　myself　'cos　I　knows　I'm　a　toff。'

〃'Can't　you　decide　which　character　you　prefer；　and　stick　to　it？'　I　asked。

〃'No；'　he　answered；　'I　carn't。　　It's　a　rum　thing；　but　whichever　I　am；　sure　as　fate；　'bout　the　end　of　a　month　I　begin　to　get　sick　o'　myself。'

〃'I　can　quite　understand　it；'　I　murmured；　'I　should　give　way　myself　in　a　fortnight。'

〃'I've　been　myself；　now；'　he　continued；　without　noticing　my　remark；　'for　somethin'　like　ten　days。　　One　mornin'；　in　'bout　three　weeks'　time；　I　shall　get　up　in　my　diggins　in　the　Mile　End　Road；　and　I　shall　look　round　the　room；　and　at　these　clothes　'angin'　over　the　bed；　and　at　this　yer　concertina'　（he　gave　it　an　affectionate　squeeze）；　'and　I　shall　feel　myself　gettin'　scarlet　all　over。　　Then　I　shall　jump　out　o'　bed；　and　look　at　myself　in　the　glass。　　〃You　howling　little　cad；〃　I　shall　say　to　myself；　〃I　have　half　a　mind　to　strangle　you〃；　and　I　shall　shave　myself；　and　put　on　a　quiet　blue　serge　suit　and　a　bowler　'at；　tell　my　landlady　to　keep　my　rooms　for　me　till　I　comes　back；　slip　out　o'　the　'ouse；　and　into　the　fust　'ansom　I　meets；　and　back　to　the　Halbany。　　And　a　month　arter　that；　I　shall　come　into　my　chambers　at　the　Halbany；　fling　Voltaire　and　Parini　into　the　fire；　shy　me　'at　at　the　bust　of　good　old　'Omer；　slip　on　my　blue　suit　agen；　and　back　to　the　Mile　End　Road。'

〃'How　do　you　explain　your　absence　to　both　parties？'　I　asked。

〃'Oh；　that's　simple　enough；'　he　replied。　　'I　just　tells　my　'ousekeeper　at　the　Halbany　as　I'm　goin'　on　the　Continong；　and　my　mates　'ere　thinks　I'm　a　traveller。'

〃'Nobody　misses　me　much；'　he　added；　pathetically；　'I　hain't　a　partic'larly　fetchin'　sort　o'　bloke；　either　of　me。　　I'm　sich　an　out…　and…outer。　　When　I'm　an　'Arry；　I'm　too　much　of　an　'Arry；　and　when　I'm　a　prig；　I'm　a　reg'lar　fust　prize　prig。　　Seems　to　me　as　if　I　was　two　ends　of　a　man　without　any　middle。　　If　I　could　only　mix　myself　up　a　bit　more；　I'd　be　all　right。'

〃He　sniffed　once　or　twice；　and　then　he　laughed。　　'Ah；　well；'　he　said；　casting　aside　his　momentary　gloom；　'it's　all　a　game；　and　wot's　the　odds　so　long　as　yer　'appy。　　'Ave　a　wet？'

〃I　declined　the　wet；　and　left　him　playing　sentimenta