lavengro- 第50部分

my　own　in　lieu　of　these　mysterious　passages　of　the　publisher；　I　

might　be　giving　a　fatal　blow　to　his　whole　system　of　philosophy。　　

Besides；　when　translating　into　English；　had　I　treated　foreign　

authors　in　this　manner？　　Had　I　treated　the　minstrels　of　the　Kaempe　

Viser　in　this　manner？　…　No。　　Had　I　treated　Ab　Gwilym　in　this　

manner？　　Even　when　translating　his　Ode　to　the　Mist；　in　which　he　is　

misty　enough；　had　I　attempted　to　make　Ab　Gwilym　less　misty？　　No；　on　

referring　to　my　translation；　I　found　that　Ab　Gwilym　in　my　hands　was　

quite　as　misty　as　in　his　own。　　Then；　seeing　that　I　had　not　ventured　

to　take　liberties　with　people　who　had　never　put　themselves　into　my　

hands　for　the　purpose　of　being　rendered；　how　could　I　venture　to　

substitute　my　own　thoughts　and　ideas　for　the　publisher's；　who　had　

put　himself　into　my　hands　for　that　purpose？　　Forbid　it　every　proper　

feeling！　…　so　I　told　the　Germans；　in　the　publisher's　own　way；　the　

publisher's　tale　of　an　apple　and　a　pear。



I　at　first　felt　much　inclined　to　be　of　the　publisher's　opinion　with　

respect　to　the　theory　of　the　pear。　　After　all；　why　should　the　earth　

be　shaped　like　an　apple；　and　not　like　a　pear？　…　it　would　certainly　

gain　in　appearance　by　being　shaped　like　a　pear。　　A　pear　being　a　

handsomer　fruit　than　an　apple；　the　publisher　is　probably　right；　

thought　I；　and　I　will　say　that　he　is　right　on　this　point　in　the　

notice　which　I　am　about　to　write　of　his　publication　for　the　Review。　　

And　yet　I　don't　know　…　said　I；　after　a　long　fit　of　musing　…　I　don't　

know　but　what　there　is　more　to　be　said　for　the　Oxford　theory。　　The　

world　may　be　shaped　like　a　pear；　but　I　don't　know　that　it　is；　but　

one　thing　I　know；　which　is；　that　it　does　not　taste　like　a　pear；　I　

have　always　liked　pears；　but　I　don't　like　the　world。　　The　world　to　

me　tastes　much　more　like　an　apple；　and　I　have　never　liked　apples。　　

I　will　uphold　the　Oxford　theory　…　besides；　I　am　writing　in　an　

Oxford　Review；　and　am　in　duty　bound　to　uphold　the　Oxford　theory。　　

So　in　my　notice　I　asserted　that　the　world　was　round；　I　quoted　

Scripture；　and　endeavoured　to　prove　that　the　world　was　typified　by　

the　apple　in　Scripture；　both　as　to　shape　and　properties。　　'An　apple　

is　round；'　said　I；　'and　the　world　is　round　…　the　apple　is　a　sour；　

disagreeable　fruit；　and　who　has　tasted　much　of　the　world　without　

having　his　teeth　set　on　edge？'　　I；　however；　treated　the　publisher；　

upon　the　whole；　in　the　most　urbane　and　Oxford…like　manner；　

complimenting　him　upon　his　style；　acknowledging　the　general　

soundness　of　his　views；　and　only　differing　with　him　in　the　affair　

of　the　apple　and　pear。



I　did　not　like　reviewing　at　all　…　it　was　not　to　my　taste；　it　was　

not　in　my　way；　I　liked　it　far　less　than　translating　the　publisher's　

philosophy；　for　that　was　something　in　the　line　of　one　whom　a　

competent　judge　had　surnamed　Lavengro。　　I　never　could　understand　

why　reviews　were　instituted；　works　of　merit　do　not　require　to　be　

reviewed；　they　can　speak　for　themselves；　and　require　no　praising；　

works　of　no　merit　at　all　will　die　of　themselves；　they　require　no　

killing。　　The　Review　to　which　I　was　attached　was；　as　has　been　

already　intimated；　established　on　an　entirely　new　plan；　it　

professed　to　review　all　new　publications；　which　certainly　no　Review　

had　ever　professed　to　do　before；　other　Reviews　never　pretending　to　

review　more　than　one…tenth　of　the　current　literature　of　the　day。　　

When　I　say　it　professed　to　review　all　new　publications；　I　should　

add；　which　should　be　sent　to　it；　for；　of　course；　the　Review　would　

not　acknowledge　the　existence　of　publications；　the　authors　of　which　

did　not　acknowledge　the　existence　of　the　Review。　　I　don't　think；　

however；　that　the　Review　had　much　cause　to　complain　of　being　

neglected；　I　have　reason　to　believe　that　at　least　nine…tenths　of　

the　publications　of　the　day　were　sent　to　the　Review；　and　in　due　

time　reviewed。　　I　had　good　opportunity　of　judging　…　I　was　connected　

with　several　departments　of　the　Review；　though　more　particularly　

with　the　poetical　and　philosophic　ones。　　An　English　translation　of　

Kant's　philosophy　made　its　appearance　on　my　table　the　day　before　

its　publication。　　In　my　notice　of　this　work　I　said　that　the　English　

shortly　hoped　to　give　the　Germans　a　QUID　PRO　QUO。　　I　believe　at　

that　time　authors　were　much　in　the　habit　of　publishing　at　their　own　

expense。　　All　the　poetry　which　I　reviewed　appeared　to　be　published　

at　the　expense　of　the　authors。　　If　I　am　asked　how　I　comported　

myself；　under　all　circumstances；　as　a　reviewer　…　I　answer；　…　I　did　

not　forget　that　I　was　connected　with　a　Review　established　on　Oxford　

principles；　the　editor　of　which　had　translated　Quintilian。　　All　the　

publications　which　fell　under　my　notice　I　treated　in　a　gentlemanly　

and　Oxford…like　manner；　no　personalities　…　no　vituperation　…　no　

shabby　insinuations；　decorum；　decorum　was　the　order　of　the　day。　　

Occasionally　a　word　of　admonition；　but　gently　expressed；　as　an　

Oxford　undergraduate　might　have　expressed　it；　or　master　of　arts。　　

How　the　authors　whose　publications　were　consigned　to　my　colleagues　

were　treated　by　them　I　know　not；　I　suppose　they　were　treated　in　an　

urbane　and　Oxford…like　manner；　but　I　cannot　say；　I　did　not　read　the　

reviewals　of　my　colleagues；　I　did　not　read　my　own　after　they　were　

printed。　　I　did　not　like　reviewing。



Of　all　my　occupations　at　this　period　I　am　free　to　confess　I　liked　

that　of　compiling　the　NEWGATE　LIVES　AND　TRIALS　the　best；　that　is；　

after　I　had　surmounted　a　kind　of　prejudice　which　I　originally　

entertained。　　The　trials　were　entertaining　enough；　but　the　lives　…　

how　full　were　they　of　wild　and　racy　adventures；　and　in　what　racy；　

genuine　language　were　they　told！　　What　struck　me　most　with　respect　

to　these　lives　was　the　art　which　the　writers；　whoever　they　were；　

possessed　of　telling　a　plain　story。　　It　is　no　easy　thing　to　tell　a　

story　plainly　and　distinctly　by　mouth；　but　to　tell　one　on　paper　is　

difficult　indeed；　so　many　snares　lie　in　the　way。　　People　are　afraid　

to　put　down　what　is　common　on　paper；　they　seek　to　embellish　their　

narratives；　as　they　think；　by　philosophic　speculations　and　

reflections；　they　are　anxious　to　shine；　and　people　who　are　anxious　

to　shine　can　never　tell　a　plain　story。　　'So　I　went　with　them　to　a　

music　booth；　where　they　made　me　almost　drunk　with　gin；　and　began　to　

talk　their　flash　language；　which　I　did　not　understand；'　says；　or　is　

made　to　say；　Henry　Simms；　executed　at　Tyburn　some　seventy　years　

before　the　time　of　which　I　am　speaking。　　I　have　always　looked　upon　

this　sentence　as　a　masterpiece　of　the　narrative　style；　it　is　so　

concise　and　yet　so　very　clear。　　As　I　gazed　on　passages　like　this；　

and　there　were　many　nearly　as　good　in　the　Newgate　lives；　I　often　

sighed　that　it　was　not　my　fortune　to　have　to　render　these　lives　

into　German　rather　than　the　publisher's　philosophy　…　his　tale　of　an　

apple　and　pear。



Mine　was　an　ill…regulated　mind　at　this　period。　　As　I　read　over　the　

lives　of　these　robbers　and　pickpockets；　strange　doubts　began　to　

arise　in　my　mind　about　virtue　and　crime。　　Years　before；　when　quite　

a　boy；　as　in　one　of　the　early　chapters　I　have　hinted；　I　had　been　a　

necessitarian；　I　had　even　written　an　essay　on　crime　（I　have　it　now　

before　me；　penned　in　a　round　boyish　hand）；　in　which　I　attempted　to　

prove　that　there　is　no　such　thing　as　crime　or　virtue；　all　our　

actions　being　the　result　of　circumstances　or　necessity。　　These　

doubts　were　now　again　reviving　in　my　mind；　I　could　not；　for　the　

life　of　me；　imagine　how；　taking　all　circumstances　into　

consideration；　these　highwaymen；　these　pickpockets；　should　have　

been　anything　else　than　highwaymen　and　pickpockets；　any　more　than　

how；　taking　all　circumstances　into　consideration；　Bishop　Latimer　

（the　reader　is　aware　that　I　had　read　Foxe's　BOOK　OF　MARTYRS）　should　

have　been　anything　else　than　Bishop　Latimer。　　I　had　a　very　ill…

regulated　mind　at　that　period。



My　own　peculiar　ideas　with　respect　to　everything　being　a　lying　

dream　began　also　to　revive。　　Sometimes　at　midnight；　after　having　

toiled　for　hours　at　my　occupations；　I　would　fling　myself　back　on　my　

chair；　look　about　the　poor　apartment；　dimly　lighted　by　an　unsnuffed　

candle；　or　upon　the　heaps　of　books　and　papers　before　me；　and　

exclaim；　…　'Do　I　exist？　　Do　these　things；　which　I　think　I　see　about　

me；　exist；　or　do　they　not？　　Is　not　everything　a　dream　…　a　deceitful　

dream？　　Is　not　this　apartment　a　dream　…　the　furniture　a　dream？　　The　

publisher　a　dream　…　his　philosophy　a　dream？　　Am　I　not　myself　a　

dream　…　dreaming　about　translating　a　dream？　　I　can't　see　why　all　

should　not　be　a　dream；　what's　the　use　of　the　reality？'　　And　then　I　

would　pinch　myself；　and　snuff　the　burdened　smoky　light。　　'I　can't　

see；　for　the　life　of　me；　the　use　of　all　this；　therefore　why　should　

I　think　that　it　exists？　　If　there　was　a　chance；　a　probability；　of　

all　this　tending　to　anything；　I　might　believe；　but　…　'　and　then　I　

would　stare　and　think；　and　after　some　time　shake　my　head　and　return　

again　to　my　occupations　for　an　hour　or　two；　and　then　I　would　

perhaps　shake；　and　shiver；　and　yawn；　and　look　wistfully　in　the　

direction　of　my　sleeping　apartment；　and　then；　but　not　wistfully；　at　

the　papers　and　books　before　me；　and　sometimes　I　would　return　to　my　

papers　and　books；　but　oftener　I　would　arise；　and；　after　another　

yawn　and　shiver；　take　my　light；　and　proceed　to　my　sleeping　chamber。



They　say　that　light　fare　begets　light　dreams；　my　fare　at　that　time　

was　light　enough；　but　I　had　anything　but　light　dreams；　for　at　that　

period　I　had　all　kind　of　strange　and　extravagant　dreams；　and　

amongst　other　things　I　dreamt　that　the　whole　world　had　taken　to　

dog…fighting；　and　that　I；　myself；　had　taken　to　dog…fighting；　and　

that　in　a　vast　circus　I　backed　an　English　bulldog　against　the　

bloodhound　of　the　Pope　of　Rome。







CHAPTER　XXXVII







My　brother　…　Fits　of　crying　…　Mayor…elect　…　The　committee　…　The　

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