Of making many books there is no end. --ECCLESIASTES XII., 12. CHAPTER XI. MORTIMER HAS AN INTERVIEW WITH THE GREAT PUBLISHER, AND MR. FLINT MAKES A DISCOVERY
H. H. Hardwill, Publisher--Criminal Literature--Alliterative Titles--Goldwood--Poor Authors--A Heaven for them in the Perspective--Flint's Discovery, and the Horns of his Dilemma1.
Mortimer looked up and read the sign--"H. H. Hardwill, Publisher." His heart half-failed him, and he stood looking in the large, book-filled window, with that romance which was to startle the literary world folded quietly under his arm, like any common paper. What kind of a man is Mr. Hardwill? he thought. Is he a large man, with a heavy watch-chain, or a thin, sky-rockety piece of humanity, dressed in black, and tipped off with red hair? Was he a cold, cast-iron man, like Flint? or a simple, sorrowful one, like Snarle that was? But this last idea melted of itself. How could the famous publisher resemble the poor, unobtrusive Snarle? He, Mr. Hardwill, who received notes from the great Hiawatha, and hob-nobbed with Knickerbocker Irving; he, who owned a phial of yellow sand, which had been taken from a scorching2 desert with an unpronounceable name, and presented to him by the Oriental Bayard; he, who chatted with genial3 Mr. Sparrow-grass--God bless him!--(Sparrow-grass,) and joked with Orpheus Stoddard,--he like simple Snarle? Pooh! "Is Mr. Hardwill in?" asked Mortimer. He came near adding, "the great publisher." The clerk, to whom his eyes looked, said he believed he was, and went on calling off from a slip of paper: "'Murdered Milkmaid,' two copies; 'Bloody4 Hatchet,' twelve copies; 'The Seducer's Victim,' thirty copies; 'The Young Mother,' five copies; 'The Deranged5 Daughter,' seven copies; 'Hifiluten and other poems,' one copy." "Can I speak with him?" ventured Mortimer, as the clerk, who was calling off the criminal literature, paused for breath. "'The Merry Maniacs,' ten copies--Yes, sir; but he's engaged. Wait awhile," continued the clerk, as Mortimer turned to go. "'The Wizard of Wehawkin,' six copies; 'The Phantom6 of Philadelphia,' twelve copies, etc., etc." So our author seated himself on a case of books, and looked at the wall of volumes which encompassed7 him. Somehow or another, it suggested the Great Wall of China and the Cordilleras. He could give no reason why. No more can I. Perhaps he felt that light literature, paradoxical as it may seem, is always heavy, and so his mind ran on the prodigious8 freaks of man and nature. After the clerk had finished calling off from the slip of paper, that promising9 young gentleman suddenly discovered that Mr. Hardwill was not engaged, and offered to conduct our friend into his august presence. Mortimer gathered up his heart, as it were, and his loosened manuscript at the same moment--"Her heart and morning broke together!"--and followed the clerk through an avenue of literature, to a snug10 inner office--that literary Sebastopol, which is forever being stormed by seedy poets and their allies, historians, romancers, and strong-minded Eves. Could it be possible? Was that middle-sized, dark-eyed, light-haired, pleasant-looking man the Napoleon of publishers? However, there was something shrewd in his dark eye, or rather eyes--for he had two of them--and a certain expression of the mouth, which seemed full of dealings with the world. "Is this Mr. Hardwill?" asked Mortimer. "Yes, sir. Will you be seated?" "I have a romance," commenced Mortimer, with hesitation11, "which I would offer you for publication. I have written it carefully, and I think it possesses several new features----" Here his voice broke down, for he felt those dark, scrutinizing12 eyes in his face; besides, the intense attention with which he was listened to disconcerted him. Mr. Hardwill came to his relief. "What is the title of your book?" "It is called 'Goldwood.'" "That is not happy." "No?" "No," said Mr. Hardwill, "it should be something striking--something to catch the eye in an advertisement. For instance, the--the----" "Frantic13 Father," suggested Mortimer, quietly; and he gazed at the carpet to keep from smiling. Mr. Hardwill eyed him, and displayed his white teeth. There was a little satire14 in our author's remark which pleased Mr. H., who could not be hired to read the spasmodic books which he published. It was policy in him to cater15 for that largest class of readers whose tastes are morbid16 or inflamed17, and he did so. Mortimer had thrown aside his timidity. He gave a concise18 sketch19 of the plot, touching20 here and there on some supposed-to-be felicitous21 incident, and grew so autorially eloquent22 over his romance, that the careful Mr. Hardwill requested Mortimer to leave his manuscript with him, saying: "I cannot give you much hope. I have more books ready for press than I can well attend to. If you will call on me the latter part of next week, you shall have my decision." With these words, spoken in an off-hand, business-like way, Mr. Hardwill made a bow, which said, as kindly23 as such a thing can be said, "You needn't stay any longer." Mortimer returned his bland24 smile frankly25, and retired26, though he would fain have called Mr. Hardwill's attention to that delightful27 and exciting scene in which Mr. Adine St. Clair meets Arabella Clementina after an estrangement28 of two weeks! but he didn't. He again threaded his way through the labyrinth29 of literature, and the last sound which fell on his ear, as he turned from the book-store into the street, was, "'The Ruined Cigar Girl,' twenty copies!" "What on earth could anybody want of a 'Ruined Cigar Girl,' or a 'Young Mother?'" and Mortimer laughed outright30. The wand of Prospero is neither more cunning nor more powerful than the pen of a well bred author. It creates something out of nothing, (more frequently nothing out of something), changes time, place, and human nature; it lifts up the blue roofing of ocean, and gives you a glimpse of fish-life; and deeper still, shows you the coral forests of the Naiads, and their aquatic31 palaces. It draws back the curtain of cloud-land, and feeds your fancy with forms that never have been, and never will be; summons spirits from the air, and gives melodious32 voices to all vernal things. Pleasant magician that waves this wand! what curious people are walking in the chambers33 of your brain! What dreams are yours, and what cruel cuts this real world sometimes gives you! You have no right to be here, poor devil! You are somewhat misplanted; you belong to some sphere between earth and heaven, and not very near either. That such a place is provided for you I am certain. There it is that all your books will run through countless34 editions; there it is you can afford to hire some one to write your autograph for besieging35 admirers, and feed, as you should, "On the roses, and lay in the lilies of life." But I was speaking of pen-magic. It is not my present mood to do anything fantastical in that way. I only wish to give you a sight of Mr. Flint, as he appeared one afternoon some months after Mortimer had left his office. He was standing36 in that inner-room of his counting-house to which I have introduced the reader. I change my mind--he was not standing. He had just thrown himself into a chair, in which he did not seem at all easy. I take peculiar37 delight in placing Mr. Flint in uncomfortable positions. He was surprised, alarmed, and angry. He missed the forged check and the morocco case which he had watched so many years. That they had been purloined38, he could not doubt, and his keen thought fell on Mortimer. The loss of the check troubled him; he liked to look at it occasionally, for Snarle's sake; but the necklace--that gave him strange alarm. "Snake!" he hissed39, "you have crawled into my affairs, and I'll tread on you--tread on you and kill you! You stole the check to save Snarle's name; and the necklace--why did you steal that? Was it valuable? Yes, that is it. I'll grind you in the dust. I'll put you in a prison, and let your brainless father look at you through the bars!" This humane40 idea caused Mr. Flint to rub his dry hands, and chuckle41 violently. "But"--here Mr. Flint's countenance42 fell. "If I do this, won't Walters ruin me with that unfortunate letter? O, I was a fool to write it; yet he would have murdered me if I had not." And Mr. Flint thought and thought. To obtain the letter was impossible. Walters might have left the city; even if he had not, there was a method in his madness which Flint knew he could not circumvent43. He could not lose such a chance of crushing Mortimer as presented itself; and yet to attempt it while Walters had possession of the letter was unwise. Mr. Flint was in a brown study. He walked up and down his sanctum solemnly, neglecting to watch Tim and the book-keeper who had succeeded Mortimer. An half hour passed, and still he continued his walk and reverie, without any visible intention of stopping. His face lights up; he rubs his knuckles44 with ecstacy. He has got it! got it at last. He will have Mortimer arrested; he will have Mortimer's name suppressed, or give the newspapers a fictitious45 one. This will shield him from Walters, whose heart he will wring46 some of these days. Ah! that will be revenge. It may strike the ingenious reader as strange that Mortimer, having charge of Flint & Snarle's books, never came across his father's name. This would have been the case, and somewhat interfered47 with our novel, if Mortimer, when he applied48 for a clerkship with the firm, had not given Mr. Flint all the particulars of his life. For reasons best known to himself, Mr. Flint took every opportunity to strengthen Mortimer in the belief of his father's death, and every precaution to keep Walters from meeting him. Once, indeed, they stood face to face in the office; but, taking into consideration the number of years they had been separated, and the circumstances under which they met, it would have been most strange if a recognition had taken place. As to Mr. Snarle, being profoundly ignorant of Mortimer's early history, he could throw no light on Mortimer's mind; and everything worked to Flint's satisfaction. Every circumstance seemed to mould itself to his will. There is an evil spirit, and a very powerful one, that holds the wires which move some of us puppets. The good are made to take the humblest seats in the world's Synagogue, and the wily and the evil-hearted are clothed in purple, fed on honey, and throned in the highest places. There will be a surprising revolution some of these times. As Mr. Sparrow-grass would say, a revolution is "a good thing to have in the country."
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1 dilemma | |
n.困境,进退两难的局面 | |
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2 scorching | |
adj. 灼热的 | |
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3 genial | |
adj.亲切的,和蔼的,愉快的,脾气好的 | |
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4 bloody | |
adj.非常的的;流血的;残忍的;adv.很;vt.血染 | |
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5 deranged | |
adj.疯狂的 | |
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6 phantom | |
n.幻影,虚位,幽灵;adj.错觉的,幻影的,幽灵的 | |
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7 encompassed | |
v.围绕( encompass的过去式和过去分词 );包围;包含;包括 | |
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8 prodigious | |
adj.惊人的,奇妙的;异常的;巨大的;庞大的 | |
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9 promising | |
adj.有希望的,有前途的 | |
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10 snug | |
adj.温暖舒适的,合身的,安全的;v.使整洁干净,舒适地依靠,紧贴;n.(英)酒吧里的私房 | |
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11 hesitation | |
n.犹豫,踌躇 | |
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12 scrutinizing | |
v.仔细检查,详审( scrutinize的现在分词 ) | |
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13 frantic | |
adj.狂乱的,错乱的,激昂的 | |
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14 satire | |
n.讽刺,讽刺文学,讽刺作品 | |
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15 cater | |
vi.(for/to)满足,迎合;(for)提供饮食及服务 | |
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16 morbid | |
adj.病的;致病的;病态的;可怕的 | |
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17 inflamed | |
adj.发炎的,红肿的v.(使)变红,发怒,过热( inflame的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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18 concise | |
adj.简洁的,简明的 | |
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19 sketch | |
n.草图;梗概;素描;v.素描;概述 | |
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20 touching | |
adj.动人的,使人感伤的 | |
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21 felicitous | |
adj.恰当的,巧妙的;n.恰当,贴切 | |
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22 eloquent | |
adj.雄辩的,口才流利的;明白显示出的 | |
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23 kindly | |
adj.和蔼的,温和的,爽快的;adv.温和地,亲切地 | |
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24 bland | |
adj.淡而无味的,温和的,无刺激性的 | |
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25 frankly | |
adv.坦白地,直率地;坦率地说 | |
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26 retired | |
adj.隐退的,退休的,退役的 | |
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27 delightful | |
adj.令人高兴的,使人快乐的 | |
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28 estrangement | |
n.疏远,失和,不和 | |
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29 labyrinth | |
n.迷宫;难解的事物;迷路 | |
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30 outright | |
adv.坦率地;彻底地;立即;adj.无疑的;彻底的 | |
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31 aquatic | |
adj.水生的,水栖的 | |
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32 melodious | |
adj.旋律美妙的,调子优美的,音乐性的 | |
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33 chambers | |
n.房间( chamber的名词复数 );(议会的)议院;卧室;会议厅 | |
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34 countless | |
adj.无数的,多得不计其数的 | |
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35 besieging | |
包围,围困,围攻( besiege的现在分词 ) | |
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36 standing | |
n.持续,地位;adj.永久的,不动的,直立的,不流动的 | |
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37 peculiar | |
adj.古怪的,异常的;特殊的,特有的 | |
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38 purloined | |
v.偷窃( purloin的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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39 hissed | |
发嘶嘶声( hiss的过去式和过去分词 ); 发嘘声表示反对 | |
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40 humane | |
adj.人道的,富有同情心的 | |
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41 chuckle | |
vi./n.轻声笑,咯咯笑 | |
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42 countenance | |
n.脸色,面容;面部表情;vt.支持,赞同 | |
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43 circumvent | |
vt.环绕,包围;对…用计取胜,智胜 | |
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44 knuckles | |
n.(指人)指关节( knuckle的名词复数 );(指动物)膝关节,踝v.(指人)指关节( knuckle的第三人称单数 );(指动物)膝关节,踝 | |
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45 fictitious | |
adj.虚构的,假设的;空头的 | |
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46 wring | |
n.扭绞;v.拧,绞出,扭 | |
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47 interfered | |
v.干预( interfere的过去式和过去分词 );调停;妨碍;干涉 | |
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48 applied | |
adj.应用的;v.应用,适用 | |
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