Chapter 13 third quarter

At the next meeting of the Dante Club, Holmes was late, thinking to himself that this was the last time anyway.Longfellow came out to meet Holmes, and in the purity of his eyes Holmes found no solace, no peace, no answer to the question that troubled him: what shall we do now? ? By dinnertime he was going to tell them that he was no longer taking part in the translation of the Divine Comedy.Lowell had had enough of what had happened lately, and maybe there was no time to blame him.Holmes was afraid that people would say that he was only half a bottle of vinegar.However, tower The lingering smell of Reverend Halbert's charred corpse made him unable to study The Divine Comedy with peace of mind as usual.His heart was oppressed, and he had a vague feeling that they were somehow responsible for the two murders, that they had gone too far, that with their own rash faith in poetry, the weekly "Divine Comedy" Readings have unleashed the punishments of Inferno into the Boston air.

George Washington Green stretched out his hands in front of him, ten fingers that seemed to be broken at the touch, and was warming himself by the fireplace.They knew that Green was weak, so they didn't tell him what they knew, for fear that he would be agitated and damage his health.So, the aging historian and retired pastor complained cheerfully, Longfellow had notified the change of schedule so close to the meeting that he hadn't had time to write what he was thinking.This Wednesday night, everyone has their own thoughts, but Green is carefree and happy as usual. Earlier this week, Longfellow sent word to the scholars that the twenty-sixth song had been revised instead.The song describes Dante's encounter with the spirit of Ulysses, the Greek hero of the Trojan War, engulfed in flames.This is the part that everyone loves the most, and maybe it will bring everyone back together.

"How can we sit idly by..." Lowell blurted out, but glanced at Green full of resentment, and swallowed the second half of the sentence.Green, who was annotating in the margin of the proofs, did not pay attention to what he was saying. Longfellow ignored what Lowell had said, and went on reading and discussing the poem about Ulysses.His usual smiling face was tense now, and the smile gradually disappeared, which seemed to be borrowed from the previous meeting. Ulysses was caught in the fault of Hell, punishing the evil counselors, and turned into a fire, the spiers of which swung like tongues that spoke.There are sinners in hell who are reluctant to tell Dante about their experiences, others are eager to confide.Ulysses rises above both acts of vanity.

Ulysses told Dante that he had grown old and dull after the Trojan War, but did not sail back to Ithaca to be with his wife and family.He persuaded the few remaining crew members to continue sailing, to cross the boundary markers that humans should not cross, to seek the right way and seek knowledge.But soon there was a storm, and the sea swallowed them up. Only Green had a lot to say about the subject.Thinking of Tennyson's poem about this episode of Ulysses' experience, he began to deliver his comment with a sad smile. "I think we should take into account that Dante inspired Lord Tennyson to describe the scene."

"'The most monotonous and dreary thing is to stay, to stop,'" After finishing speaking, Green recited Tennyson's words in a rhythmic tone, "'It is dusty and rusty but not shiny in use! Can breathing be considered life? This life is too little to pile up, let alone my only life...'" He paused, his eyes were moist and tears were shining, "'There are not many years left.' Let us take Tennyson as our guide, my dears. My friend, for his sorrow is like that of Ulysses, and in his last voyage still yearns for victory." Old Green's words evoked enthusiastic responses from Longfellow and Fields, but he himself snored like thunder.Lowell clutched a stack of proofs tightly, his lips pressed together, like a stubborn schoolboy.

Seeing no comment, Longfellow asked imploringly, "Lowell, what do you think of this stanza?" Lowell muttered, "Dante himself wrote, untranslatable poetry, didn't he? But we get together once a week and have fun trashing his lines." "Lowell, stop talking!" Fields gasped, and gave Longfellow an apologetic look. "This is exactly what we have to do." The publisher reprimanded Lowell in a hoarse voice, but The sound was not loud, he was afraid of waking Green up. Lowell leaned forward and said eagerly: "We must do something...we must make up our minds..."

Holmes' eyes widened, and the eyeballs rolled around. He looked at Lovell and then at Green.The old man could wake up at any moment.Holmes held out a finger and shook it, and then gestured slowly across the stretched neck, signaling that everyone should not discuss this topic. Lowell's face was flushed like a fire was burning.He stared at the rising and falling chest of George Washington Green, and all he had heard echoed in his mind: Longfellow's tones of thanks, Green's deep hoarse voice reciting Tennyson's lines, The sigh of Holmes, the rhetoric of Ulysses twice—once in that ship sailing to death, and once in hell.They roared and collided with each other. In the midst of this chaos, Lowell's heart suddenly lit up.

He chanted thoughtfully in a low voice, and his tense and flushed face gradually relaxed. "'My sailors, who toil with me, work with me, think with me...'" These are Tennyson's verses, writing that Ulysses is encouraging the crew to fight against death. You and I are old, but old age has old honors, old toils; Death ends all, but we can do noble things till the end, ... Holmes was dumbfounded, but it wasn't because he was shocked by the poem. What really drove him out of his wits was that he suddenly realized the purpose of Lowell's reciting this poem at this moment.There was a panic in his heart: Lowell was not reciting, but persuading them with poetry.Longfellow and Fields also became more and more astonished as they listened, their eyes were straightened and they were at a loss, and they all understood.

Longfellow continued in a low voice with the same entreaty from Tennyson: The sea groans around with countless sounds.come.Friends, explore the new world. It is not too late.let's sail! At the end of the recitation, Longfellow turned to the publisher and cast an inquiring look, as if to say: It's your turn, Fields. Seeing Longfellow look over, Fields dropped his head hastily, and his beard fell into the open collar of his coat and touched the watch chain on the waistcoat.Fields opened his mouth to say something, but hesitated again, like a person in a terrible nightmare who wanted to shout but couldn't.Suddenly, he staggered, his face turned pale, as if he was seasick.Holmes sighed, sympathetically, involuntarily showing his approval.After a while, Fields frowned, looked at Longfellow, then at Lowell, quickly stood on his feet, waved his hand violently, and began to recite Tennyson's verse.

Although our strength is not as good as it was before, and it is far from the majestic appearance that moved the sky and the earth in the past, we are still us... Do we have the power to find out the truth about the murder?Dr. Holmes was skeptical.Delusion, yes, it is indeed wishful thinking!There had been two murders, horrific murders, why bother getting yourself involved?Maybe that would make things worse, and even put yourself in danger.At this time, he was full of regrets, regretting that he should not have stayed in the medical school to watch the police autopsy, regretting that he should not have told the three friends what he had discovered at the time.Holmes closed his eyes tightly.

Lowell leaned over to Holmes, gazed at him patiently and kindly, his face showed a rare accommodating and sad expression on his face, and softly recited the verse that Fields had just recited, "But we It's still us." We are still us: it is our own choice.Holmes calmed down a little.The three friends had agreed and they were waiting for his decision.A voice sounded, so calm and composed, as if the noble fire were speaking to Dante, that Holmes could hardly recognize it as his own.As soon as he made up his mind, he blurted out Tennyson's verses to express his inner voice: "But we are still us. Although the heart of a hero is worn away by time and weakened by fate, our will is as strong as ever. Persevere. Struggle, explore, seek..." He paused, "without yielding." "Struggle," Lowell thoughtfully, looking at their expressions one by one, his gaze resting on Holmes' face for a moment, while whispering, "Explore, seek..." The clock struck and Green moved.Everyone was silent and smiled at each other: the Dante club has been revived.