A WONDER-BOOK
remodelled them at pleasure, and held then plastic in their hands; and why should they not be plastic in my hands as well?’
Mr. Pringle could not forbear a smile.
‘And besides,’ continued Eustace, ‘the moment you put any warmth of heart, any passion or affection, any human or divine morality, into a classic mould, you make it quite another thing from what it was before. My own opinion is, that the Greeks, by taking possession of these legends (which were the immemorial birthright of mankind), and putting them into shapes of indestructible beauty, indeed, but cold and heartless, have done all subsequent ages an incalculable injury.’
‘Which you, doubtless, were born to remedy,’ said Mr. Pringle, laughing outright. ‘Well, well, go on; but take my advice, and never put any of your travesties on paper. And, as your next effort, what if you should try your hand on some one of the legends of Apollo?’
‘Ah, sir, you propose it as an impossibility,’ observed the student, after a moment’s meditation; ‘and, to be sure, at first thought, the idea of a Gothic Apollo strikes one rather ludicrously. But I will turn over your suggestion in my mind, and do not quite despair of success.’
During the above discussion the children (who understood not a word of it) had grown very sleepy, and were now sent off to bed. Their drowsy babble was heard, ascending the staircase, while a north-west wind roared loudly among the tree-tops of Tanglewood, and played an anthem around the house. Eustace Bright went back to the study, and again endeavoured to hammer out some verses, but fell asleep between two of the rhymes.
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