按键盘上方向键 ← 或 → 可快速上下翻页，按键盘上的 Enter 键可回到本书目录页，按键盘上方向键 ↑ 可回到本页顶部！
————未阅读完？加入书签已便下次继续阅读！
diligently。 But after all； what could I do？ Here I was； writing
stories for my living and my reputation。 I made a pretty sum enough；
and worked hard enough to earn it。 No tale； no money。 Then every
story that went from my workshop had to come up to the standard of my
reputation； and there was a set of critics；there is a set of
critics now and everywhere；that watch as narrowly for the decline
of a man's reputation as ever a village half drowned out by an
inundation watched for the falling of the waters。 The fame I had
won； such as it was； seemed to attend me；not going before me in the
shape of a woman with a trumpet； but rather following me like one of
Actaeon's hounds； his throat open； ready to pull me down and tear me。
What a fierce enemy is that which bays behind us in the voice of our
proudest bygone achievement！
〃But； as I said above； what could I do？ I must write novels； and I
must have characters。 'Then why not invent them？' asks some novice。
Oh； yes！ Invent them！ You can invent a human being that in certain
aspects of humanity will answer every purpose for which your
invention was intended。 A basket of straw； an old coat and pair of
breeches； a hat which has been soaked； sat upon； stuffed a broken
window； and had a brood of chickens raised in it；these elements；
duly adjusted to each other； will represent humanity so truthfully
that the crows will avoid the cornfield when your scarecrow displays
his personality。 Do you think you can make your heroes and
heroines；nay； even your scrappy supernumeraries；out of refuse
material； as you made your scarecrow？ You can't do it。 You must
study living people and reproduce them。 And whom do you know so well
as your friends？ You will show up your friends； then； one after
another。 When your friends give out； who is left for you？ Why；
nobody but your own family； of course。 When you have used up your
family； there is nothing left for you but to write your
autobiography。
〃After my experience with my grand…aunt； I be came more cautious；
very naturally。 I kept traits of character； but I mixed ages as well
as sexes。 In this way I continued to use up a large amount of
material； which looked as if it were as dangerous as dynamite to
meddle with。 Who would have expected to meet my maternal uncle in
the guise of a schoolboy？ Yet I managed to decant his
characteristics as nicely as the old gentleman would have decanted a
bottle of Juno Madeira through that long siphon which he always used
when the most sacred vintages were summoned from their crypts to
render an account of themselves on his hospitable board。 It was a
nice business； I confess； but I did it； and I drink cheerfully to
that good uncle's memory in a glass of wine from his own cellar；
which； with many other more important tokens of his good will； I call
my own since his lamented demise。
〃I succeeded so well with my uncle that I thought I would try a
course of cousins。 I had enough of them to furnish out a whole
gallery of portraits。 There was cousin 'Creeshy；' as we called her；
Lucretia； more correctly。 She was a cripple。 Her left lower limb
had had something happen to it； and she walked with a crutch。 Her
patience under her trial was very pathetic and picturesque； so to
speak；I mean adapted to the tender parts of a story； nothing could
work up better in a melting paragraph。 But I could not； of course；
describe her particular infirmity； that would point her out at once。
I thought of shifting the lameness to the right lower limb； but even
that would be seen through。 So I gave the young woman that stood for
her in my story a lame elbow； and put her arm in a sling； and made
her such a model of uncomplaining endurance that my grandmother cried
over her as if her poor old heart would break。 She cried very
easily； my grandmother； in fact； she had such a gift for tears that I
availed myself of it； and if you remember old Judy； in my novel
〃Honi Soit 〃 （Honey Sweet； the booksellers called it）；old Judy； the
black…nurse；that was my grandmother。 She had various other
peculiarities； which I brought out one by one； and saddled on to
different characters。 You see she was a perfect mine of
singularities and idiosyncrasies。 After I had used her up pretty
well； I came dawn upon my poor relations。 They were perfectly fair
game； what better use could I put them to？ I studied them up very
carefully； and as there were a good many of them I helped myself
freely。 They lasted me； with occasional intermissions； I should say；
three or four years。 I had to be very careful with my poor
relations；they were as touchy as they could be； and as I felt bound
to send a copy of my novel； whatever it might be； to each one of
them；there were as many as a dozen；I took care to mix their
characteristic features； so that； though each might suspect I meant
the other； no one should think I meant him or her。 I got through all
my relations at last except my father and mother。 I had treated my
brothers and sisters pretty fairly； all except Elisha and Joanna。
The truth is they both had lots of odd ways；family traits； I
suppose； but were just different enough from each other to figure
separately in two different stories。 These two novels made me some
little trouble； for Elisha said he felt sure that I meant Joanna in
one of them； and quarrelled with me about it； and Joanna vowed and
declared that Elnathan； in the other； stood for brother 'Lisha； and
that it was a real mean thing to make fun of folks' own flesh and
blood； and treated me to one of her cries。 She was n't handsome when
she cried； poor； dear Joanna； in fact； that was one of the personal
traits I had made use of in the story that Elisha found fault with。
〃So as there was nobody left but my father and mother； you see for
yourself I had no choice。 There was one great advantage in dealing
with them；I knew them so thoroughly。 One naturally feels a certain
delicacy it handling from a purely artistic point of view persons who
have been so near to him。 One's mother； for instance： suppose some
of her little ways were so peculiar that the accurate delineation of
them would furnish amusement to great numbers of readers； it would
not be without hesitation that a writer of delicate sensibility would
draw her portrait； with all its whimsicalities； so plainly that it
should be generally recognized。 One's father is commonly of tougher
fibre than one's mother； and one would not feel the same scruples；
perhaps； in using him professionally as material in a novel； still；
while you are employing him as bait；you see I am honest and plain…
spoken； for your characters are baits to catch readers with；I would
follow kind Izaak Walton's humane counsel about the frog you are
fastening to your fish…hook： fix him artistically； as he directs； but
in so doing I use him as though you loved him。'
〃I have at length shown up； in one form and another； all my townsmen
who have anything effective in their bodily or mental make…up； all my
friends； all my relatives； that is； all my blood relatives。 It has
occurred to me that I might open a new field in the family connection
of my father…in…law and mother…in…law。 We have been thinking of
paying them a visit； and I shall have an admirable opportunity of
studying them and their relatives and visitors。 I have long wanted a
good chance for getting acquainted with the social sphere several
grades below that to which I am accustomed； and I have no doubt that
I shall find matter for half a dozen new stories among those
connections of mine。 Besides； they live in a Western city； and one
doesn't mind much how he cuts up the people of places he does n't
himself live in。 I suppose there is not really so much difference in
people's feelings； whether they live in Bangor or Omaha； but one's
nerves can't be expected to stretch across the continent。 It is all
a matter of greater or less distance。 I read this morning that a
Chinese fleet was sunk； but I did n't think half so much about it as
I did about losing my sleeve button； confound it！ People have
accused me of want of feeling； they misunderstand the artist…nature；
that is all。 I obey that implicitly； I am sorry if people don't
like my descriptions； but I have done my best。 I have pulled to
pieces all the persons I am acquainted with； and put them together
again in my characters。 The quills I write with come from live
geese； I would have you know。 I expect to get some first…rate
pluckings from those people I was speaking of； and I mean to begin my
thirty…ninth novel as soon as I have got through my visit。〃
IX
THE SOCIETY AND ITS NEW SECRETARY。
There is no use in trying to hurry the natural course of events； in a
narrative like this。 June passed away； and July； and August had
come； and as yet the enigma which had completely puzzled Arrowhead
Village and its visitors remained unsolved。