【英文小说】The Wondersmith.docx

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1、【英文小说】The WondersmithGolosh Street and its PeopleA small lane, the name of which I have forgotten, or do not choose to remembec slants suddenly off from Chatham Street, (before that headlong thoroughfare reaches into the Park,) and retreats suddenly down towards the East River, as if it were disgust

2、ed with the smell of old clothes, and had determined to wash itself clean. This excellent intention it has, however, evidently contributed towards the making of that imaginary pavement mentioned in the old adage; for it is still emphatically a dirty street. It has never been able to shake off the He

3、braic taint of filth which it inherits from the ancestral thoroughfare. It is slushy and greasy, as if it were twin brother of the Roman Ghetto.I like a dirty slum; not because I am naturally unclean I have not a drop of Neapolitan blood in my veins but because I generally find a certain sediment of

4、 philosophy precipitated in its gutters. A clean street is terribly prosaic. There is no food for thought in carefully swept pavements, barren kennels, and vulgarly spotless houses. But when I go down a street which has been left so long to itself that it has acquired a distinct outward character, I

5、 find plenty to think about. The scraps of sodden letters lying in the ash-barrel have their meaning: desperate appeals, perhaps, from Tom, the baker s assistant, to Amelia, the daughter of the dry-goods retailer, who is always selling at a sacrifice in consequence of the late fire. That may be Tom

6、himself who is now passing me in a white apron, and I look up at the windows of the house (which does not, however, give any signs of a recent conflagration) and almost hope to see Amelia wave a white pocket-handkerchief. The bit of orange-peel lying on the sidewalk inspires thought. Who will fall o

7、ver it? who but the industrious mother of six children, the eldest of which is only nine months old, all of whom are dependent on her exertions for support? I see her slip and tumble. I see the pale face convulsed with agony, and the vain struggle to get up; the pitying crowd closing her off from al

8、l air; the anxious young doctor who happened to be passing by; the manipulation of the broken limb, the shake of the head, the moan of the victim, the litter borne on men s shoulders, the gates of the New York Hospital unclosing, the subscription taken up on the spot. There is some food for speculat

9、ion in that three-year-old, tattered child, masked with dirt, who is throwing a brick at another three-year-old, tattered child, masked with dirt. It is not difficult to perceive that he is destined to lurk, as it were, through life. His bad, flat face or, at least, what can be seen of it does not l

10、ook as if it were made for the light of day. The mire in which he wallows now is but a type of the moral mire in which he will wallow hereafter. The feeble little hand lifted at this instant to smite his companion, half in earnest, half in jest, will be raised against his fellow-beings forevermore.G

11、olosh Street as I will call this nameless lane before alluded to is an interesting locality. All the oddities of trade seem to have found their way thither and made an eccentric mercantile settlement. There is a bird-shop at one corner, wainscoted with little cages containing linnets, waxwings, cana

12、ries, blackbirds, Mino-birds, with a hundred other varieties, known only to I have been out all day with the organ, and I am so tired, Solon! not sleepy, but weary, I mean. Poor Furbelow was sleepy, though, and he s gone to bed.T m weary, too, Zonela; not weary as you are, though, for I sit in my li

13、ttle book-stall all day long, and do not drag round an organ and a monkey and play old tunes for pennies but weary of myself of life, of the load that I carry on my shoulders;v and, as he said this, the poor humpback glanced sideways, as if to call attention to his deformed person.“Well, but you oug

14、ht not to be melancholy amidst your books, Solon. Gracious! If I could only sit in the sun and read as you do, how happy I should be! But it, s very tiresome to trudge round all day with that nasty organ, and look up at the houses, and know that you are annoying the people inside; and then the boys

15、play such bad tricks on poor Furbelow, throwing him hot pennies to pick up, and burning his poor little hands; and oh! sometimes, Solon, the men in the street make me so afraid they speak to me and look at me so oddly! L d a great deal rather sit in your book-stall and read.I have nothing but odd vo

16、lumes in my stall,” answered the humpback. Perhaps that s right, though; for, after all, I m nothing but an odd volume myself. ”“ Come, don t be melancholy, Solon. Sit down and tell me a story. I II bring Furbelow to listen.So saying, she went to a dusk corner of the cheerless attic-room, and return

17、ed with a little Brazilian monkey in her arms a poor, mild, drowsy thing, that looked as if it had cried itself to sleep. She sat down on her little stool, with Furbelow in her lap, and nodded her head to Solon, as much as to say, “ Go on; we are attentive.M“ You want a story, do you? ” said the hum

18、pback, with a mournful smile. Well, I II tell you one. Only what will your father say, if he catches me here?Herr Hippe is not my father; cried Zonela, indignantly. He s a gypsy, and I know I * m stolen; and r d run away from him, if I only knew where to run to. If I were his child, do you think tha

19、t he would treat me as he does? make me trudge round the city, all day long, with a barrel-organ and a monkey though I love poor dear little Furbelow and keep me up in a garret, and give me ever so little to eat? I know I , m not his child, for he hates me. ”uListen to my story, Zonela, and we II ta

20、lk of that afterwards. Let me sit at your feet; and, having coiled himself up at the little maiden s feet, he commenced:“There once lived in a great city, just like this city of New York, a poor little hunchback. He kept a second-hand book-stall, where he made barely enough money to keep body and so

21、ul together. He was very sad at times, because he knew scarce any one, and those that he did know did not love him. He had passed a sickly, secluded youth. The children of his neighborhood would not play with him, for he was not made like them; and the people in the streets stared at him with pity,

22、or scoffed at him when he went by. Ah! Zonela, how his poor heart was wrung with bitterness when he beheld the procession of shapely men and fine women that every day passed him by in the thoroughfares of the great city! How he repined and cursed his fate as the torrent of fleet-footed firemen dashe

23、d past him to the toll of the bells, magnificent in their overflowing vitality and strength! But there was one consolation left him one drop of honey in the jar of gall, so sweet that it ameliorated all the bitterness of life. God had given him a deformed body, but his mind was straight and healthy.

24、 So the poor hunchback shut himself into the world of books, and was, if not happy, at least contented. He kept company with courteous paladins, and romantic heroes, and beautiful women; and this society was of such excellent breeding that it never so much as once noticed his poor crooked back or hi

25、s lame walk. The love of books grew upon him with his years. He was remarked for his studious habits; and when, one day, the obscure people that he called father and mother parents only in name died, a compassionate book-vendor gave him enough stock in trade to set up a little stall of his own. Here

26、, in his book-stall, he sat in the sun all day, waiting for the customers that seldom came, and reading the fine deeds of the people of the ancient time, or the beautiful thoughts of the poets that had warmed millions of hearts before that hour; and still glowed for him with undiminished fire. One d

27、ay, when he was reading some book, that, small as it was, was big enough to shut the whole world out from him, he heard some music in the street. Looking up from his book, he saw a little girl, with large eyes, playing an organ, while a monkey begged for alms from a crowd of idlers who had nothing i

28、n their pockets but their hands. The girl was playing, but she was also weeping. The merry notes of the polka were ground out to a silent accompaniment of tears. She looked very sad, this organ-girl, and her monkey seemed to have caught the infection, for his large brown eyes were moist, as if he al

29、so wept. The poor hunchback was struck with pity, and called the little girl over to give her a penny not, dear Zonela, because he wished to bestow alms, but because he wanted to speak with her. She came, and they talked together. She came the next day for it turned out that they were neighbors and

30、the next, and, in short, every day. They became friends. They were both lonely and afflicted, with this difference, that she was beautiful, and he was a hunchback.nWhy, Solon, ” cried Zonela, “that s the very way you and I met!MIt was then/* continued Solon, with a faint smile, “that life seemed to

31、have its music. A great harmony seemed to the poor cripple to fill the world. The carts that took the flour-barrels from the wharves to the store-houses seemed to emit joyous melodies from their wheels. The hum of the great business-streets sounded like grand symphonies of triumph. As one who has be

32、en travelling through a barren country without much heed feels with singular force the sterility of the lands he has passed through when he reaches the fertile plains that lie at the end of his journey, so the humpback, after his vision had been freshened with this blooming flower, remembered for th

33、e first time the misery of the life that he had led. But he did not allow himself to dwell upon the past. The present was so delightful that it occupied all his thoughts. Zonela, he was in love with the organ-girl/“Oh, that s so nice! said Zonela, innocently pinching poor Furbelow, as she spoke, in

34、order to dispel a very evident snooze that was creeping over him. It s going to be a love-story. Ah! but, Zonela, he did not know whether she loved him in return. You forget that he was deformed.“But, answered the girl, gravely, “he was good.A light like the flash of an aurora illuminated Solon s fa

35、ce for an instant. He put out his hand suddenly, as if to take Zonela s and press it to his heart; but an unaccountable timidity seemed to arrest the impulse, and he only stroked Furbelow* s head upon which that individual opened one large brown eye to the extent of the eighth of an inch, and, seein

36、g that it was only Solon, instantly closed it again, and resumed his dream of a city where there were no organs and all the copper coin of the realm was iced.“ He hoped and feared, ” continued Solon, in a low, mournful voice; “ but at times he was very miserable, because he did not think it possible

37、 that so much happiness was reserved for him as the love of this beautiful, innocent girl. At night, when he was in bed, and all the world was dreaming, he lay awake looking up at the old books that hung against the walls, thinking how he could bring about the charming of her heart. One night, when

38、he was thinking of this, with his eyes fixed upon the mouldy backs of the odd volumes that lay on their shelves, and looked back at him wistfully, as if they would say * We also are like you, and wait to be completed, * it seemed as if he heard a rustle of leaves. Then, one by one, the books came do

39、wn from their places to the floor, as if shifted by invisible hands, opened their worm-eaten covers, and from between the pages of each the hunchback saw issue forth a curious throng of little people that danced here and there through the apartment. Each one of these little creatures was shaped so a

40、s to bear resemblance to some one of the letters of the alphabet. One tall, long-legged fellow seemed like the letter A; a burly fellow, with a big head and a paunch, was the model of B; another leering little chap might have passed for a Q; and so on through the whole. These fairies for fairies the

41、y were climbed upon the hunchback * s bed, and clustered thick as bees upon his pillow. Come! they cried to him, 4we will lead you into fairy-land.f So saying, they seized his hand, and he suddenly found himself in a beautiful country, where the light did not come from sun or moon or stars, but floa

42、ted round and over and in everything like the atmosphere. On all sides he heard mysterious melodies sung by strangely musical voices. None of the features of the landscape were definite; yet when he looked on the vague harmonies of color that melted one into another before his sight, he was filled w

43、ith a sense of inexplicable beauty. On every side of him fluttered radiant bodies which darted to and fro through the illumined space. They were not birds, yet they flew like birds; and as each one crossed the path of his vision, he felt a strange delight flash through his brain, and straightway an

44、interior voice seemed to sing beneath the vaulted dome of his temples a verse containing some beautiful thought. The little fairies were all this time dancing and fluttering around him, perching on his head, on his shoulders, or balancing themselves on his finger-tips. 4 Where am I? he asked, at las

45、t, of his friends, the fairies. Ah! Solon/ he heard them whisper, in tones that sounded like the distant tinkling of silver bells, this land is nameless; but those whom we lead hither; who tread its soil, and breathe its air, and gaze on its floating sparks of light, are poets forevermore!* Having s

46、aid this, they vanished, and with them the beautiful indefinite land, and the flashing lights, and the illumined air; and the hunchback found himself again in bed, with the moonlight quivering on the floor; and the dusty books on their shelves, grim and mouldy as ever. ”“You have betrayed yourself.

47、You called yourself Solon/* cried Zonela. 44 Was it a dream?”I do not know,” answered Solon; “but since that night I have been a poet. ”“A poet?” screamed the little organ-girl “a real poet, who makes verses which every one reads and every one talks of?The people call me a poet, answered Solon, with

48、 a sad smile. They do not know me by the name of Solon, for I write under an assumed title; but they praise me, and repeat my songs. But, Zonela, I can t sing this load off of my back, can I? ”“ Oh, bother the hump! ” said Zonela, jumping up suddenly. You re a poet, and that * s enough, isn* t it? I

49、* m so glad youT re a poet, Solon! You must repeat all your best things to me, won t you?”Solon nodded assent.“You don t ask me/* he said, 41 who was the little girl that the hunchback loved.MZonela s face flushed crimson. She turned suddenly away, and ran into a dark corner of the room. In a moment

50、 she returned with an old handorgan in her arms.Play, Solon, play! she cried. I am so glad that I want to dance. Furbelow, come and dance in honor of Solon the Poet.It was her confession. Solon s eyes flamed, as if his brain had suddenly ignited. He said nothing; but a triumphant smile broke over hi

51、s countenance. Zonela, the twilight of whose cheeks was still rosy with the setting blush, caught the lazy Furbelow by his little paws; Solon turned the crank of the organ, which wheezed out as merry a polka as its asthma would allow, and the girl and the monkey commenced their fantastic dance. They

52、 had taken but a few steps when the door suddenly opened, and the tall figure of the Wondersmith appeared on the threshold. His face was convulsed with rage, and the black snake that quivered on his upper lip seemed to rear itself as if about to spring upon the hunchback.The Manikins and the Minos.T

53、he four gypsies left Herr Hippe s house cautiously, and directed their steps towards Mr. Pippel s bird-shop. Golosh Street was asleep. Nothing was stirring in that tenebrous slum, save a dog that savagely gnawed a bone which lay on a dust-heap, tantalizing him with the flavor of food without its sub

54、stance. As the gypsies moved stealthily along in the darkness, they had a sinister and murderous air that would not have failed to attract the attention of the policeman of the quarter; if that worthy had not at the moment been comfortably ensconced in the neighboring *Rainbow bar-room, listening to

55、 the improvisations of that talented vocalist, Mr. Harrison, who was making impromptu verses on every possible subject, to the accompaniment of a cithern which was played by a sad little Italian in a large cloak, to whom the host of the Rainbow gave so many toddies and a dollar for his nightly perfo

56、rmance.Mr. Pippel* s shop was but a short distance from the Wondersmith * s house. A few moments, therefore, brought the gypsy party to the door, when, by aid of a key which Herr Hippe produced, they silently slipped into the entry. Here the Wondersmith took a dark-lantern from under his cloak, remo

57、ved the cap that shrouded the light, and led the way into the shop, which was separated from the entry only by a glass door, that yielded, like the outer one, to a key which Hippe took from his pocket. The four gypsies now entered the shop and closed the door behind them.It was a little world of bir

58、ds. On every side, whether in large or small cages, one beheld balls of various-colored feathers standing on one leg and breathing peacefully. Love-birds, nestling shoulder to shoulder, with their heads tucked under their wings and all their feathers puffed out, so that they looked like globes of ma

59、lachite; English bullfinches, with ashen-colored backs, in which their black heads were buried, and corselets of a rosy down; Java sparrows, fat and sleek and cleanly; troupials, so glossy and splendid in plumage that they looked as if they were dressed in the celebrated armor of the Black Prince, w

60、hich was jet, richly damascened with gold; a cock of the rock, gleaming, a ball of tawny fire, like a setting sun; the Campanero of Brazil, white as snow, with his dilatable tolling-tube hanging from his head, placid and silent; these, with a humbler crowd of linnets, canaries, robins, mocking-birds

61、, and phoebes, slumbered calmly in their little cages, that were hung so thickly on the wall as not to leave an inch of it visible.uSplendid little morsels, all of them! exclaimed Monsieur Kerplonne. Ah we are going to have a rare beating! ”“ So Pippel does not sleep in his shop, said the English gy

62、psy, Oaksmith.No. The fellow lives somewhere up one of the avenues, answered Madame FilomeL He came, the other evening, to consult me about his fortune. I did not tell him, ” she added, with a laugh, that he was going to have so distinguished a sporting party on his premises.n“Come, said the Wonders

63、mith, producing the box of manikins, “get ready with souls, Madame Filomel. I am impatient to see my little men letting out lives for the first time.Just at the moment that the Wondersmith uttered this sentence, the four gypsies were startled by a hoarse voice issuing from a corner of the room, and

64、propounding in the most guttural tones the intemperate query of “What II you take? This sottish invitation had scarce been given, when a second extremely thick voice replied from an opposite corner; in accents so rough that they seemed to issue from a throat torn and furrowed by the liquid lava of m

65、any barrooms, “ Brandy and water.“ Hollo! who s here? muttered Herr Hippe, flashing the light of his lantern round the shop.Oaksmith turned up his coat-cuffs, as if to be ready for a fight; Madame Filomel glided, or rather rolled, towards the door; while Kerplonne put his hand into his pocket, as if to assure himself that his supernumerary optic was all right.What II you take? croaked the voice in the corner, once more.*Brandy and water, rapidly replied the second voice in the other corner. And then, as if by a concerted movement, a series of bibular inv