death of the lion-第1部分

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The　Death　of　the　Lion　

by　Henry　James




CHAPTER　I。



I　HAD　simply；　I　suppose；　a　change　of　heart；　and　it　must　have　begun　
when　I　received　my　manuscript　back　from　Mr。　Pinhorn。　　Mr。　Pinhorn　
was　my　〃chief；〃　as　he　was　called　in　the　office：　　he　had　the　high　
mission　of　bringing　the　paper　up。　　This　was　a　weekly　periodical；　
which　had　been　supposed　to　be　almost　past　redemption　when　he　took　
hold　of　it。　　It　was　Mr。　Deedy　who　had　let　the　thing　down　so　
dreadfully：　　he　was　never　mentioned　in　the　office　now　save　in　
connexion　with　that　misdemeanour。　　Young　as　I　was　I　had　been　in　a　
manner　taken　over　from　Mr。　Deedy；　who　had　been　owner　as　well　as　
editor；　forming　part　of　a　promiscuous　lot；　mainly　plant　and　office…
furniture；　which　poor　Mrs。　Deedy；　in　her　bereavement　and　
depression；　parted　with　at　a　rough　valuation。　　I　could　account　for　
my　continuity　but　on　the　supposition　that　I　had　been　cheap。　　I　
rather　resented　the　practice　of　fathering　all　flatness　on　my　late　
protector；　who　was　in　his　unhonoured　grave；　but　as　I　had　my　way　to　
make　I　found　matter　enough　for　complacency　in　being　on　a　〃staff。〃　　
At　the　same　time　I　was　aware　of　my　exposure　to　suspicion　as　a　
product　of　the　old　lowering　system。　　This　made　me　feel　I　was　doubly　
bound　to　have　ideas；　and　had　doubtless　been　at　the　bottom　of　my　
proposing　to　Mr。　Pinhorn　that　I　should　lay　my　lean　hands　on　Neil　
Paraday。　　I　remember　how　he　looked　at　me　…　quite；　to　begin　with；　as　
if　he　had　never　heard　of　this　celebrity；　who　indeed　at　that　moment　
was　by　no　means　in　the　centre　of　the　heavens；　and　even　when　I　had　
knowingly　explained　he　expressed　but　little　confidence　in　the　
demand　for　any　such　stuff。　　When　I　had　reminded　him　that　the　great　
principle　on　which　we　were　supposed　to　work　was　just　to　create　the　
demand　we　required；　he　considered　a　moment　and　then　returned：　　〃I　
see　…　you　want　to　write　him　up。〃

〃Call　it　that　if　you　like。〃

〃And　what's　your　inducement？〃

〃Bless　my　soul　…　my　admiration！〃

Mr。　Pinhorn　pursed　up　his　mouth。　　〃Is　there　much　to　be　done　with　
him？〃

〃Whatever　there　is　we　should　have　it　all　to　ourselves；　for　he　
hasn't　been　touched。〃

This　argument　was　effective　and　Mr。　Pinhorn　responded。　　〃Very　well；　
touch　him。〃　　Then　he　added：　　〃But　where　can　you　do　it？〃

〃Under　the　fifth　rib！〃

Mr。　Pinhorn　stared。　　〃Where's　that？〃

〃You　want　me　to　go　down　and　see　him？〃　I　asked　when　I　had　enjoyed　
his　visible　search　for　the　obscure　suburb　I　seemed　to　have　named。

〃I　don't　'want'　anything　…　the　proposal's　your　own。　　But　you　must　
remember　that　that's　the　way　we　do　things　NOW；〃　said　Mr。　Pinhorn　
with　another　dig　Mr。　Deedy。

Unregenerate　as　I　was　I　could　read　the　queer　implications　of　this　
speech。　　The　present　owner's　superior　virtue　as　well　as　his　deeper　
craft　spoke　in　his　reference　to　the　late　editor　as　one　of　that　
baser　sort　who　deal　in　false　representations。　　Mr。　Deedy　would　as　
soon　have　sent　me　to　call　on　Neil　Paraday　as　he　would　have　
published　a　〃holiday…number〃；　but　such　scruples　presented　
themselves　as　mere　ignoble　thrift　to　his　successor；　whose　own　
sincerity　took　the　form　of　ringing　door…bells　and　whose　definition　
of　genius　was　the　art　of　finding　people　at　home。　　It　was　as　if　Mr。　
Deedy　had　published　reports　without　his　young　men's　having；　as　
Pinhorn　would　have　said；　really　been　there。　　I　was　unregenerate；　as　
I　have　hinted；　and　couldn't　be　concerned　to　straighten　out　the　
journalistic　morals　of　my　chief；　feeling　them　indeed　to　be　an　abyss　
over　the　edge　of　which　it　was　better　not　to　peer。　　Really　to　be　
there　this　time　moreover　was　a　vision　that　made　the　idea　of　writing　
something　subtle　about　Neil　Paraday　only　the　more　inspiring。　　I　
would　be　as　considerate　as　even　Mr。　Deedy　could　have　wished；　and　
yet　I　should　be　as　present　as　only　Mr。　Pinhorn　could　conceive。　　My　
allusion　to　the　sequestered　manner　in　which　Mr。　Paraday　lived　…　it　
had　formed　part　of　my　explanation；　though　I　knew　of　it　only　by　
hearsay　…　was；　I　could　divine；　very　much　what　had　made　Mr。　Pinhorn　
nibble。　　It　struck　him　as　inconsistent　with　the　success　of　his　
paper　that　any　one　should　be　so　sequestered　as　that。　　And　then　
wasn't　an　immediate　exposure　of　everything　just　what　the　public　
wanted？　　Mr。　Pinhorn　effectually　called　me　to　order　by　reminding　me　
of　the　promptness　with　which　I　had　met　Miss　Braby　at　Liverpool　on　
her　return　from　her　fiasco　in　the　States。　　Hadn't　we　published；　
while　its　freshness　and　flavour　were　unimpaired；　Miss　Braby's　own　
version　of　that　great　international　episode？　　I　felt　somewhat　
uneasy　at　this　lumping　of　the　actress　and　the　author；　and　I　confess　
that　after　having　enlisted　Mr。　Pinhorn's　sympathies　I　
procrastinated　a　little。　　I　had　succeeded　better　than　I　wished；　and　
I　had；　as　it　happened；　work　nearer　at　hand。　　A　few　days　later　I　
called　on　Lord　Crouchley　and　carried　off　in　triumph　the　most　
unintelligible　statement　that　had　yet　appeared　of　his　lordship's　
reasons　for　his　change　of　front。　　I　thus　set　in　motion　in　the　daily　
papers　columns　of　virtuous　verbiage。　　The　following　week　I　ran　down　
to　Brighton　for　a　chat；　as　Mr。　Pinhorn　called　it；　with　Mrs。　
Bounder；　who　gave　me；　on　the　subject　of　her　divorce；　many　curious　
particulars　that　had　not　been　articulated　in　court。　　If　ever　an　
article　flowed　from　the　primal　fount　it　was　that　article　on　Mrs。　
Bounder。　　By　this　time；　however；　I　became　aware　that　Neil　Paraday's　
new　book　was　on　the　point　of　appearing　and　that　its　approach　had　
been　the　ground　of　my　original　appeal　to　Mr。　Pinhorn；　who　was　now　
annoyed　with　me　for　having　lost　so　many　days。　　He　bundled　me　off　…　
we　would　at　least　not　lose　another。　　I've　always　thought　his　sudden　
alertness　a　remarkable　example　of　the　journalistic　instinct。　　
Nothing　had　occurred；　since　I　first　spoke　to　him；　to　create　a　
visible　urgency；　and　no　enlightenment　could　possibly　have　reached　
him。　　It　was　a　pure　case　of　profession　flair　…　he　had　smelt　the　
coming　glory　as　an　animal　smells　its　distant　prey。



CHAPTER　II。



I　MAY　as　well　say　at　once　that　this　little　record　pretends　in　no　
degree　to　be　a　picture　either　of　my　introduction　to　Mr。　Paraday　or　
of　certain　proximate　steps　and　stages。　　The　scheme　of　my　narrative　
allows　no　space　for　these　things；　and　in　any　case　a　prohibitory　
sentiment　would　hang　about　my　recollection　of　so　rare　an　hour。　　
These　meagre　notes　are　essentially　private；　so　that　if　they　see　the　
light　the　insidious　forces　that；　as　my　story　itself　shows；　make　at　
present　for　publicity　will　simply　have　overmastered　my　precautions。　　
The　curtain　fell　lately　enough　on　the　lamentable　drama。　　My　memory　
of　the　day　I　alighted　at　Mr。　Paraday's　door　is　a　fresh　memory　of　
kindness；　hospitality；　compassion；　and　of　the　wonderful　
illuminating　talk　in　which　the　welcome　was　conveyed。　　Some　voice　of　
the　air　had　taught　me　the　right　moment；　the　moment　of　his　life　at　
which　an　act　of　unexpected　young　allegiance　might　most　come　home　to　
him。　　He　had　recently　recovered　from　a　long；　grave　illness。　　I　had　
gone　to　the　neighbouring　inn　for　the　night；　but　I　spent　the　evening　
in　his　company；　and　he　insisted　the　next　day　on　my　sleeping　under　
his　roof。　　I　hadn't　an　indefinite　leave：　　Mr。　Pinhorn　supposed　us　
to　put　our　victims　through　on　the　gallop。　　It　was　later；　in　the　
office；　that　the　rude　motions　of　the　jig　were　set　to　music。　　I　
fortified　myself；　however；　as　my　training　had　taught　me　to　do；　by　
the　conviction　that　nothing　could　be　more　advantageous　for　my　
article　than　to　be　written　in　the　very　atmosphere。　　I　said　nothing　
to　Mr。　Paraday　about　it；　but　in　the　morning；　after　my　remove　from　
the　inn；　while　he　was　occupied　in　his　study；　as　he　had　notified　me　
he　should　need　to　be；　I　committed　to　paper　the　main　heads　of　my　
impression。　　Then　thinking　to　commend　myself　to　Mr。　Pinhorn　by　my　
celerity；　I　walked　out　and　posted　my　little　packet　before　luncheon。　　
Once　my　paper　was　written　I　was　free　to　stay　on；　and　if　it　was　
calculated　to　divert　attention　from　my　levity　in　so　doing　I　could　
reflect　with　satisfaction　that　I　had　never　been　so　clever。　　I　don't　
mean　to　deny　of　course　that　I　was　aware　it　was　much　too　good　for　
Mr。　Pinhorn；　but　I　was　equally　conscious　that　Mr。　Pinhorn　had　the　
supreme　shrewdness　of　recognising　from　time　to　time　the　cases　in　
which　an　article　was　not　too　bad　only　because　it　was　too　good。　　
There　was　nothing　he　loved　so　much　as　to　print　on　the　right　
occasion　a　thing　he　hated。　　I　had　begun　my　visit　to　the　great　man　
on　a　Monday；　and　on　the　Wednesday　his　book　came　out。　　A　copy　of　it　
arrived　by　the　first　post；　and　he　let　me　go　out　into　the　garden　
with　it　immediately　after　breakfast；　I　read　it　from　beginning　to　
end　that　day；　and　in　the　evening　he　asked　me　to　remain　with　him　the　
rest　of　the　week　and　over　the　Sunday。

That　night　my　manuscript　came　back　from　Mr。　Pinhorn；　accompanied　
with　a　letter　the　gist　of　which　was　the　desire　to　know　what　I　meant　
by　trying　to　fob　off　on　him　such　stuff。　　That　was　the　meaning　of　
the　question；　if　not　exactly　its　form；　and　it　made　my　mistake　
immense　to　me。　　Such　as　this　mistake　was　I　could　now　only　look　it　
in　the　face　and　accept　it。　　I　knew　where　I　had　failed；　but　it　was