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diff --git a/2689-h/2689-h.htm b/2689-h/2689-h.htm new file mode 100644 index 0000000..288142a --- /dev/null +++ b/2689-h/2689-h.htm @@ -0,0 +1,10094 @@ +<?xml version="1.0" encoding="us-ascii"?> + +<!DOCTYPE html + PUBLIC "-//W3C//DTD XHTML 1.0 Strict//EN" + "http://www.w3.org/TR/xhtml1/DTD/xhtml1-strict.dtd" > + +<html xmlns="http://www.w3.org/1999/xhtml" lang="en"> + <head> + <title> + Over the Teacups, by Oliver W. Holmes + </title> + <style type="text/css" xml:space="preserve"> + + body { margin:5%; background:#faebd7; text-align:justify} + P { text-indent: 1em; margin-top: .25em; margin-bottom: .25em; } + H1,H2,H3,H4,H5,H6 { text-align: center; margin-left: 15%; margin-right: 15%; } + hr { width: 50%; text-align: center;} + .foot { margin-left: 20%; margin-right: 20%; text-align: justify; text-indent: -3em; font-size: 90%; } + blockquote {font-size: 97%; font-style: italic; margin-left: 10%; margin-right: 10%;} + .mynote {background-color: #DDE; color: #000; padding: .5em; margin-left: 10%; margin-right: 10%; font-family: sans-serif; font-size: 95%;} + .toc { margin-left: 10%; margin-bottom: .75em;} + .toc2 { margin-left: 20%;} + div.fig { display:block; margin:0 auto; text-align:center; } + .figleft {float: left; margin-left: 0%; margin-right: 1%;} + .figright {float: right; margin-right: 0%; margin-left: 1%;} + pre { font-style: italic; font-size: 90%; margin-left: 10%;} + +</style> + </head> + <body> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> +Project Gutenberg's Over the Teacups, by Oliver Wendell Holmes, Sr. + +(The Physician and Poet, not his son the Jurist O. W. Holmes, Jr.) + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: Over the Teacups + +Author: Oliver Wendell Holmes, Sr. + +Release Date: August 15, 2006 [EBook #2689] +Last Updated: February 18, 2018 + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: UTF-8 + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK OVER THE TEACUPS *** + + + + +Produced by David Widger + + + + + +</pre> + + <h1> + OVER THE TEACUPS + </h1> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <h2> + By Oliver W. Holmes + </h2> + <p> + <br /> <br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <br /> <br /> + </p> + <blockquote> + <p class="toc"> + <big><b>CONTENTS</b></big> + </p> + <p> + <br /> <a href="#link2H_PREF"> PREFACE. </a><br /><br /> <a + href="#link2H_4_0002"> <b>OVER THE TEACUPS.</b> </a> <br /> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0003"> I </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0005"> II </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0006"> III </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0007"> IV </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0008"> V </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0009"> VI </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0010"> VII </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0011"> VIII. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0012"> IX </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0013"> X </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0014"> XI </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0015"> XII </a> + </p> + </blockquote> + <p> + <br /> <br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <br /> <br /> <a name="link2H_PREF" id="link2H_PREF"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <h2> + PREFACE. + </h2> + <p> + The kind way in which this series of papers has been received has been a + pleasure greater than I dared to anticipate. I felt that I was a late + comer in the midst of a crowd of ardent and eager candidates for public + attention, that I had already had my day, and that if, like the + unfortunate Frenchman we used read about, I had “come again,” I ought not + to surprised if I received the welcome of “Monsieur Tonson.” + </p> + <p> + It has not proved so. My old readers have come forward in the pleasantest + possible way and assured me that they were glad to see me again. There is + no need, therefore, of apologies or explanations. I thought I had + something left to say and I have found listeners. In writing these papers + I have had occupation and kept myself in relation with my fellow-beings. + New sympathies, new sources of encouragement, if not of inspiration, have + opened themselves before me and cheated the least promising season of life + of much that seemed to render it dreary and depressing. What particularly + pleased me has been the freedom of criticisms which I have seen from + disadvantageous comparisons of my later with my earlier writings. + </p> + <p> + I should like a little rest from literary work before the requiescat + ensures my repose from earthly labors, but I will not be rash enough to + promise that I will not even once again greet my old and new readers if + the impulse becomes irresistible to renew a companionship which has been + to me such a source of happiness. + </p> + <p> + BEVERLY FARM, Mass., August, 1891. + </p> + <p> + O. W. H. <br /> <br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <br /> <br /> <a name="link2H_4_0002" id="link2H_4_0002"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <h1> + OVER THE TEACUPS. + </h1> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0003" id="link2H_4_0003"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + I + </h2> + <p> + <a name="link2H_INTR" id="link2H_INTR"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + INTRODUCTION + </h2> + <p> + This series of papers was begun in March, 1888. A single number was + printed, when it was interrupted the course of events, and not resumed + until nearly years later, in January, 1890. The plan of the series was not + formed in my mind when I wrote the number. In returning to my task I found + that my original plan had shaped itself in the underground laboratory of + my thought so that some changes had to be made in what I had written. As I + proceeded, the slight story which formed a part of my programme eloped + itself without any need of much contrivance on my part. Given certain + characters in a writer's conception, if they are real to him, as they + ought to be they will act in such or such a way, according to the law of + their nature. It was pretty safe to assume that intimate relations would + spring up between some members of our mixed company; and it was not rash + conjecture that some of these intimacies might end in such attachment as + would furnish us hints, at least, of a love-story. + </p> + <p> + As to the course of the conversations which would take place, very little + could be guessed beforehand. Various subjects of interest would be likely + to present themselves, without definite order, oftentimes abruptly and, as + it would seem, capriciously. Conversation in such a mixed company as that + of “The Teacups” is likely to be suggestive rather than exhaustive. + Continuous discourse is better adapted to the lecture-room than to the + tea-table. There is quite enough of it, I fear too much,—in these + pages. But the reader must take the reports of our talks as they were + jotted down. A patchwork quilt is not like a piece of Gobelin tapestry; + but it has its place and its use. + </p> + <p> + Some will feel a temptation to compare these conversations with those + earlier ones, and remark unamiably upon their difference. This is hardly + fair, and is certainly not wise. They are produced under very different + conditions, and betray that fact in every line. It is better to take them + by themselves; and, if my reader finds anything to please or profit from, + I shall be contented, and he, I feel sure, will not be ungrateful. + </p> + <p> + The readers who take up this volume may recollect a series of + conversations held many years ago over the breakfast-table, and reported + for their more or less profitable entertainment. Those were not very early + breakfasts at which the talks took place, but at any rate the sun was + rising, and the guests had not as yet tired themselves with the labors of + the day. The morning cup of coffee has an exhilaration about it which the + cheering influence of the afternoon or evening cup of tea cannot be + expected to reproduce. The toils of the forenoon, the heats of midday, in + the warm season, the slanting light of the descending sun, or the sobered + translucency of twilight have subdued the vivacity of the early day. Yet + under the influence of the benign stimulant many trains of thought which + will bear recalling, may suggest themselves to some of our quiet circle + and prove not uninteresting to a certain number of readers. + </p> + <p> + How early many of my old breakfast companions went off to bed! I am + thinking not merely of those who sat round our table, but of that larger + company of friends who listened to our conversations as reported. Dear + girl with the silken ringlets, dear boy with the down-shadowed cheek, your + grandfather, your grandmother, turned over the freshly printed leaves that + told the story of those earlier meetings around the plain board where so + many things were said and sung, not all of which have quite faded from + memory of this overburdened and forgetful time. Your father, your mother, + found the scattered leaves gathered in a volume, and smiled upon them as + not uncompanionable acquaintances. My tea-table makes no promises. There + is no programme of exercises to studied beforehand. What if I should + content myself with a single report of what was said and done over our + teacups? Perhaps my young reader would be glad to let me off, for there + are talkers enough who have not yet left their breakfast-tables; and + nobody can blame the young people for preferring the thoughts and the + language of their own generation, with all its future before it, to those + of their grandfathers contemporaries. + </p> + <p> + My reader, young or old, will please to observe that I have left myself + entire freedom as to the sources of what may be said over the teacups. I + have not told how many cups are commonly on the board, but by using the + plural I have implied that there is at least one other talker or listener + beside myself, and for all that appears there may be a dozen. There will + be no regulation length to my reports,—no attempt to make out a + certain number of pages. I have no contract to fill so many columns, no + pledge to contribute so many numbers. I can stop on this first page if I + do not care to say anything more, and let this article stand by itself if + so minded. What a sense of freedom it gives not to write by the yard or + the column! + </p> + <p> + When one writes for an English review or magazine at so many guineas a + sheet, the temptation is very great to make one's contribution cover as + many sheets as possible. We all know the metallic taste of articles + written under this powerful stimulus. If Bacon's Essays had been furnished + by a modern hand to the “Quarterly Review” at fifty guineas a sheet, what + a great book it would have taken to hold them! + </p> + <p> + The first thing which suggests itself to me, as I contemplate my slight + project, is the liability of repeating in the evening what I may have said + in the morning in one form or another, and printed in these or other + pages. When it suddenly flashes into the consciousness of a writer who had + been long before the public, “Why, I have said all that once or oftener in + my books or essays, and here it is again; the same old thought, the same + old image, the same old story!” it irritates him, and is likely to stir up + the monosyllables of his unsanctified vocabulary. He sees in imagination a + thousand readers, smiling or yawning as they say to themselves, “We have + had all that before,” and turn to another writer's performance for + something not quite so stale and superfluous. This is what the writer says + to himself about the reader. + </p> + <p> + The idiot! Does the simpleton really think that everybody has read all he + has written? Does he really believe that everybody remembers all of his, + writer's, words he may happen to have read? At one of those famous dinners + of the Phi Beta Kappa Society; where no reporter was ever admitted, and + which nothing ever leaks out about what is said and done, Mr. Edward + Everett, in his after-dinner speech, quoted these lines from the AEneid, + giving a liberal English version of them, which he applied to the Oration + just delivered by Mr. Emerson: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Tres imbris torti radios, tres nubis aquosae + Addiderant, rutili tres ignis, et alitis Austri. +</pre> + <p> + His nephew, the ingenious, inventive, and inexhaustible. Edward Everett + Hale, tells the story of this quotation, and of the various uses to which + it might plied in after-dinner speeches. How often he ventured to repeat + it at the Phi Beta Kappa dinners I am not sure; but as he reproduced it + with his lively embellishments and fresh versions and artful + circumlocutions, not one person in ten remembered that he had listened to + those same words in those same accents only a twelvemonth ago. The poor + deluded creatures who take it for granted that all the world remembers + what they have said, and laugh at them when they say it over again, may + profit by this recollection. But what if one does say the same things,—of + course in a little different form each time,—over her? If he has + anything to say worth saying, that is just what he ought to do. Whether he + ought to or not, it is very certain that this is what all who write much + or speak much necessarily must and will do. Think of the clergyman who + preaches fifty or a hundred or more sermons every year for fifty years! + Think of the stump speaker who shouts before a hundred audiences during + the same political campaign, always using the same arguments, + illustrations, and catchwords! Think of the editor, as Carlyle has + pictured him, threshing the same straw every morning, until we know what + is coming when we see the first line, as we do when we read the large + capitals at the head of a thrilling story, which ends in an advertisement + of an all-cleansing soap or an all-curing remedy! + </p> + <p> + The latch-key which opens into the inner chambers of my consciousness + fits, as I have sufficient reason to believe, the private apartments of a + good many other people's thoughts. The longer we live, the more we find we + are like other persons. When I meet with any facts in my own mental + experience, I feel almost sure that I shall find them repeated or + anticipated in the writings or the conversation of others. This feeling + gives one a freedom in telling his own personal history he could not have + enjoyed without it. My story belongs to you as much as to me. De te fabula + narratur. Change the personal pronoun,—that is all. It gives many + readers a singular pleasure to find a writer telling them something they + have long known or felt, but which they have never before found any one to + put in words for them. An author does not always know when he is doing the + service of the angel who stirred the waters of the pool of Bethesda. Many + a reader is delighted to find his solitary thought has a companion, and is + grateful to the benefactor who has strengthened him. This is the advantage + of the humble reader over the ambitious and self-worshipping writer. It is + not with him pereant illi, but beati sunt illi qui pro nobis nostra + dixerunt,-Blessed are those who have said our good things for us. + </p> + <p> + What I have been saying of repetitions leads me into a train of + reflections like which I think many readers will find something in their + own mental history. The area of consciousness is covered by layers of + habitual thoughts, as a sea-beach is covered with wave-worn, rounded + pebbles, shaped, smoothed, and polished by long attrition against each + other. These thoughts remain very much the same from day to day, from week + to week; and as we grow older, from month to month, and from year to year. + The tides of wakening consciousness roll in upon them daily as we unclose + our eyelids, and keep up the gentle movement and murmur of ordinary mental + respiration until we close them again in slumber. When we think we are + thinking, we are for the most part only listening to sound of attrition + between these inert elements of intelligence. They shift their places a + little, they change their relations to each other, they roll over and turn + up new surfaces. Now and then a new fragment is cast in among them, to be + worn and rounded and takes its place with the others, but the pebbled + floor of consciousness is almost as stationary as the pavement of a city + thoroughfare. + </p> + <p> + It so happens that at this particular tine I have something to tell which + I am quite sure is not one of rolled pebbles which my reader has seen + before in any of my pages, or, as I feel confident, in those of any other + writer. + </p> + <p> + If my reader asks why I do not send the statement I am going to make to + some one of the special periodicals that deal with such subjects, my + answer is, that I like to tell my own stories at my own time, in own + chosen columns, where they will be read by a class of readers with whom I + like to talk. + </p> + <p> + All men of letters or of science, all writers well known to the public, + are constantly tampered with, in these days, by a class of predaceous and + hungry fellow-laborers who may be collectively spoken of as the + brain-tappers. They want an author's ideas on the subjects which interest + them, the inquirers, from the gravest religious and moral questions to the + most trivial matters of his habits and his whims and fancies. Some of + their questions he cannot answer; some he does not choose to answer; some + he is not yet ready to answer, and when he is ready he prefers to select + his own organ of publication. I do not find fault with all the + brain-tappers. Some of them are doing excellent service by accumulating + facts which could not otherwise be attained. Rut one gets tired of the + strings of questions sent him, to which he is expected to return an + answer, plucked, ripe or unripe, from his private tree of knowledge. The + brain-tappers are like the owner of the goose that laid the golden eggs. + They would have the embryos and germs of one's thoughts out of the mental + oviducts, and cannot wait for their spontaneous evolution and extrusion. + </p> + <p> + The story I have promised is, on the whole, the most remarkable of a + series which I may have told in part at some previous date, but which, if + I have not told, may be worth recalling at a future time. + </p> + <p> + Some few of my readers may remember that in a former paper I suggested the + possibility of the existence of an idiotic area in the human mind, + corresponding to the blind spot in the human retina. I trust that I shall + not be thought to have let my wits go wandering in that region of my own + intellectual domain, when I relate a singular coincidence which very + lately occurred in my experience, and add a few remarks made by one of our + company on the delicate and difficult but fascinating subject which it + forces upon our attention. I will first copy the memorandum made at the + time: + </p> + <p> + “Remarkable coincidence. On Monday, April 18th, being at table from 6.30 + P. M. to 7.30, with ________and ________ the two ladies of my household, I + told them of the case of 'trial by battel' offered by Abraham Thornton in + 1817. I mentioned his throwing down his glove, which was not taken up by + the brother of his victim, and so he had to be let off, for the old law + was still in force. I mentioned that Abraham Thornton was said to have + come to this country, 'and [I added] he may be living near us, for aught + that I know.” I rose from the table, and found an English letter waiting + for me, left while I sat at dinner. A copy the first portion of this + letter: + </p> + <p> + '20 ALFRED PLACE, West (near Museum) South Kensington, LONDON, S. W. April + 7, 1887. DR. O. W. HOLMES: + </p> + <p> + DEAR SIR,—In travelling, the other day, I met with a reprint of the + very interesting case of Thornton for murder, 1817. The prisoner pleaded + successfully the old Wager of Battel. I thought you would like to read the + account, and send it with this.... + </p> + <p> + Yours faithfully, FRED. RATHBONE.' + </p> + <p> + Mr. Rathbone is a well-known dealer in old Wedgwood and eighteenth-century + art. As a friend of my hospitable entertainer, Mr. Willett, he had shown + me many attentions in England, but I was not expecting any communication + from him; and when, fresh from my conversation, I found this letter just + arrived by mail, and left while I was at table, and on breaking the seal + read what I had a few moments before been; telling, I was greatly + surprised, and immediately made a note of the occurrence, as given above. + </p> + <p> + I had long been familiar with all the details of this celebrated case, but + had not referred to it, so far as I can remember, for months or years. I + know of no train of thought which led me to speak of it on that particular + day. I had never alluded to it before in that company, nor had I ever + spoken of it with Mr. Rathbone. + </p> + <p> + I told this story over our teacups. Among the company at the table is a + young English girl. She seemed to be amused by the story. “Fancy!” she + said,—“how very very odd!” “It was a striking and curious + coincidence,” said the professor who was with us at the table. “As + remarkable as two teaspoons in one saucer,” was the comment of a college + youth who happened to be one of the company. But the member of our circle + whom the reader will hereafter know as Number Seven, began stirring his + tea in a nervous sort of way, and I knew that he was getting ready to say + something about the case. An ingenious man he is, with a brain like a + tinder-box, its contents catching at any spark that is flying about. I + always like to hear what he says when his tinder brain has a spark fall + into it. It does not follow that because he is often wrong he may not + sometimes be right, for he is no fool. He treated my narrative very + seriously. + </p> + <p> + The reader need not be startled at the new terms he introduces. Indeed, I + am not quite sure that some thinking people will not adopt his view of the + matter, which seems to have a degree of plausibility as he states and + illustrates it. + </p> + <p> + “The impulse which led you to tell that story passed directly from the + letter, which came charged from the cells of the cerebral battery of your + correspondent. The distance at which the action took place [the letter was + left on a shelf twenty-four feet from the place where I was sitting] shows + this charge to have been of notable intensity. + </p> + <p> + “Brain action through space without material symbolism, such as speech, + expression, etc., is analogous to electrical induction. Charge the prime + conductor of an electrical machine, and a gold-leaf electrometer, far off + from it, will at once be disturbed. Electricity, as we all know, can be + stored and transported as if it were a measurable fluid. + </p> + <p> + “Your incident is a typical example of cerebral induction from a source + containing stored cerebricity. I use this word, not to be found in my + dictionaries, as expressing the brain-cell power corresponding to + electricity. Think how long it was before we had attained any real + conception of the laws that govern the wonderful agent, which now works in + harness with the other trained and subdued forces! It is natural that + cerebricity should be the last of the unweighable agencies to be + understood. The human eye had seen heaven and earth and all that in them + is before it saw itself as our instruments enable us to see it. This fact + of yours, which seems so strange to you, belongs to a great series of + similar facts familiarly known now to many persons, and before long to be + recognized as generally as those relating to the electric telegraph and + the slaving `dynamo.' + </p> + <p> + “What! you cannot conceive of a charge of cerebricity fastening itself on + a letter-sheet and clinging to it for weeks, while it was shuffling about + in mail-bags, rolling over the ocean, and shaken up in railroad cars? And + yet the odor of a grain of musk will hang round a note or a dress for a + lifetime. Do you not remember what Professor Silliman says, in that + pleasant journal of his, about the little ebony cabinet which Mary, Queen + of Scots, brought with her from France,—how 'its drawers still + exhale the sweetest perfumes'? If they could hold their sweetness for more + than two hundred years, why should not a written page retain for a week or + a month the equally mysterious effluence poured over it from the thinking + marrow, and diffuse its vibrations to another excitable nervous centre?” + </p> + <p> + I have said that although our imaginative friend is given to wild + speculations, he is not always necessarily wrong. We know too little about + the laws of brain-force to be dogmatic with reference to it. I am, myself, + therefore, fully in sympathy with the psychological investigators. When it + comes to the various pretended sciences by which men and women make large + profits, attempts at investigation are very apt to be used as lucrative + advertisements for the charlatans. But a series of investigations of the + significance of certain popular beliefs and superstitions, a careful study + of the relations of certain facts to each other,—whether that of + cause and effect, or merely of coincidence,—is a task not unworthy + of sober-minded and well-trained students of nature. Such a series of + investigations has been recently instituted, and was reported at a late + meeting held in the rooms of the Boston Natural History Society. The + results were, mostly negative, and in one sense a disappointment. A single + case, related by Professor Royce, attracted a good deal of attention. It + was reported in the next morning's newspapers, and will be given at full + length, doubtless, in the next number of the Psychological Journal. The + leading facts were, briefly, these: A lady in Hamburg, Germany, wrote, on + the 22d of June last, that she had what she supposed to be nightmare on + the night of the 17th, five days before. “It seemed,” she wrote, “to + belong to you; to be a horrid pain in your head, as if it were being + forcibly jammed into an iron casque, or some such pleasant instrument of + torture.” It proved that on that same 17th of June her sister was + undergoing a painful operation at the hands of a dentist. “No single + case,” adds Professor Royce, “proves, or even makes probable, the + existence of telepathic toothaches; but if there are any more cases of + this sort, we want to hear of them, and that all the more because no + folk-lore and no supernatural horrors have as yet mingled with the natural + and well-known impressions that people associate with the dentist's + chair.” + </p> + <p> + The case I have given is, I am confident, absolutely free from every + source of error. I do not remember that Mr. Rathbone had communicated with + me since he sent me a plentiful supply of mistletoe a year ago last + Christmas. The account I received from him was cut out of “The Sporting + Times” of March 5, 1887. My own knowledge of the case came from “Kirby's + Wonderful Museum,” a work presented to me at least thirty years ago. I had + not looked at the account, spoken of it, nor thought of it for a long + time, when it came to me by a kind of spontaneous generation, as it + seemed, having no connection with any previous train of thought that I was + aware of. I consider the evidence of entire independence, apart from + possible “telepathic” causation, completely water-proof, airtight, + incombustible, and unassailable. + </p> + <p> + I referred, when first reporting this curious case of coincidence, with + suggestive circumstances, to two others, one of which I said was the most + picturesque and the other the most unlikely, as it would seem, to happen. + This is the first of those two cases:— + </p> + <p> + Grenville Tudor Phillips was a younger brother of George Phillips, my + college classmate, and of Wendell Phillips, the great orator. He lived in + Europe a large part of his life, but at last returned, and, in the year + 1863, died at the house of his brother George. I read his death in the + paper; but, having seen and heard very little of him during his life, + should not have been much impressed by the fact, but for the following + occurrence: between the time of Grenville Phillips's death and his burial, + I was looking in upon my brother, then living in the house in which we + were both born. Some books which had been my father's were stored in + shelves in the room I used to occupy when at Cambridge. Passing my eye + over them, an old dark quarto attracted my attention. It must be a Bible, + I said to myself, perhaps a rare one,—the “Breeches” Bible or some + other interesting specimen. I took it from the shelves, and, as I did so, + an old slip of paper fell out and fluttered to the floor. On lifting it I + read these words: + </p> + <p> + The name is Grenville Tudor. + </p> + <p> + What was the meaning of this slip of paper coming to light at this time, + after reposing undisturbed so long? There was only one way of explaining + its presence in my father's old Bible;—a copy of the Scriptures + which I did not remember ever having handled or looked into before. In + christening a child the minister is liable to forget the name, just at the + moment when he ought to remember it. My father preached occasionally at + the Brattle Street Church. I take this for granted, for I remember going + with him on one occasion when he did so. Nothing was more likely than that + he should be asked to officiate at the baptism of the younger son of his + wife's first cousin, Judge Phillips. This slip was handed him to remind + him of the name: He brought it home, put it in that old Bible, and there + it lay quietly for nearly half a century, when, as if it had just heard of + Mr. Phillips's decease, it flew from its hiding-place and startled the + eyes of those who had just read his name in the daily column of deaths. It + would be hard to find anything more than a mere coincidence here; but it + seems curious enough to be worth telling. + </p> + <p> + The second of these two last stories must be told in prosaic detail to + show its whole value as a coincidence. + </p> + <p> + One evening while I was living in Charles Street, I received a call from + Dr. S., a well-known and highly respected Boston physician, a particular + friend of the late Alexander H. Stephens, vice-president of the Southern + Confederacy. It was with reference to a work which Mr. Stephens was about + to publish that Dr. S. called upon me. After talking that matter over we + got conversing on other subjects, among the rest a family relationship + existing between us,—not a very near one, but one which I think I + had seen mentioned in genealogical accounts. Mary S. (the last name being + the same as that of my visitant), it appeared, was the + great-great-grandmother of Mrs. H. and myself. After cordially recognizing + our forgotten relationship, now for the first time called to mind, we + parted, my guest leaving me for his own home. We had been sitting in my + library on the lower floor. On going up-stairs where Mrs. H. was sitting + alone, just as I entered the room she pushed a paper across the table + towards me, saying that perhaps it might interest me. It was one of a + number of old family papers which she had brought from the house of her + mother, recently deceased. + </p> + <p> + I opened the paper, which was an old-looking document, and found that it + was a copy, perhaps made in this century, of the will of that same Mary S. + about whom we had been talking down-stairs. + </p> + <p> + If there is such a thing as a purely accidental coincidence this must be + considered an instance of it. + </p> + <p> + All one can say about it is that it seems very unlikely that such a + coincidence should occur, but it did. + </p> + <p> + I have not tried to keep my own personality out of these stories. But + after all, how little difference it makes whether or not a writer appears + with a mask on which everybody can take off,—whether he bolts his + door or not, when everybody can look in at his windows, and all his + entrances are at the mercy of the critic's skeleton key and the jimmy of + any ill-disposed assailant! + </p> + <p> + The company have been silent listeners for the most part; but the reader + will have a chance to become better acquainted with some cf them by and + by. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0005" id="link2H_4_0005"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + II + </h2> + <p> + TO THE READER. + </p> + <p> + I know that it is a hazardous experiment to address myself again to a + public which in days long past has given me a generous welcome. But my + readers have been, and are, a very faithful constituency. I think there + are many among them who would rather listen to an old voice they are used + to than to a new one of better quality, even if the “childish treble” + should betray itself now and then in the tones of the overtired organ. But + there must be others,—I am afraid many others,—who will + exclaim: “He has had his day, and why can't he be content? We don't want + literary revenants, superfluous veterans, writers who have worn out their + welcome and still insist on being attended to. Give us something fresh, + something that belongs to our day and generation. Your morning draught was + well enough, but we don't care for your evening slip-slop. You are not in + relation with us, with our time, our ideas, our aims, our aspirations.” + </p> + <p> + Alas, alas! my friend,—my young friend, for your hair is not yet + whitened,—I am afraid you are too nearly right. No doubt,—no + doubt. Teacups are not coffee-cups. They do not hold so much. Their pallid + infusion is but a feeble stimulant compared with the black decoction + served at the morning board. And so, perhaps, if wisdom like yours were + compatible with years like mine, I should drop my pen and make no further + attempts upon your patience. + </p> + <p> + But suppose that a writer who has reached and passed the natural limit of + serviceable years feels that he has some things which he would like to + say, and which may have an interest for a limited class of readers,—is + he not right in trying his powers and calmly taking the risk of failure? + Does it not seem rather lazy and cowardly, because he cannot “beat his + record,” or even come up to the level of what he has done in his prime, to + shrink from exerting his talent, such as it is, now that he has outlived + the period of his greatest vigor? A singer who is no longer equal to the + trials of opera on the stage may yet please at a chamber concert or in the + drawing-room. There is one gratification an old author can afford a + certain class of critics: that, namely, of comparing him as he is with + what he was. It is a pleasure to mediocrity to have its superiors brought + within range, so to speak; and if the ablest of them will only live long + enough, and keep on writing, there is no pop-gun that cannot reach him. + But I fear that this is an unamiable reflection, and I am at this time in + a very amiable mood. + </p> + <p> + I confess that there is something agreeable to me in renewing my relations + with the reading public. Were it but a single appearance, it would give me + a pleasant glimpse of the time when I was known as a frequent literary + visitor. Many of my readers—if I can lure any from the pages of + younger writers will prove to be the children, or the grandchildren, of + those whose acquaintance I made something more than a whole generation + ago. I could depend on a kind welcome from my contemporaries,—my + coevals. But where are those contemporaries? Ay de mi! as Carlyle used to + exclaim,—Ah, dear me! as our old women say,—I look round for + them, and see only their vacant places. The old vine cannot unwind its + tendrils. The branch falls with the decay of its support, and must cling + to the new growths around it, if it would not lie helpless in the dust. + This paper is a new tendril, feeling its way, as it best may, to whatever + it can wind around. The thought of finding here and there an old friend, + and making, it may be, once in a while a new one, is very grateful to me. + The chief drawback to the pleasure is the feeling that I am submitting to + that inevitable exposure which is the penalty of authorship in every form. + A writer must make up his mind to the possible rough treatment of the + critics, who swarm like bacteria whenever there is any literary material + on which they can feed. I have had as little to complain of as most + writers, yet I think it is always with reluctance that one encounters the + promiscuous handling which the products of the mind have to put up with, + as much as the fruit and provisions in the market-stalls. I had rather be + criticised, however, than criticise; that is, express my opinions in the + public prints of other writers' work, if they are living, and can suffer, + as I should often have to make them. There are enough, thank Heaven, + without me. We are literary cannibals, and our writers live on each other + and each other's productions to a fearful extent. What the mulberry leaf + is to the silk-worm, the author's book, treatise, essay, poem, is to the + critical larva; that feed upon it. It furnishes them with food and + clothing. The process may not be agreeable to the mulberry leaf or to the + printed page; but without it the leaf would not have become the silk that + covers the empress's shoulders, and but for the critic the author's book + might never have reached the scholar's table. Scribblers will feed on each + other, and if we insist on being scribblers we must consent to be fed on. + We must try to endure philosophically what we cannot help, and ought not, + I suppose, to wish to help. + </p> + <p> + It is the custom at our table to vary the usual talk, by the reading of + short papers, in prose or verse, by one or more of The Teacups, as we are + in the habit of calling those who make up our company. Thirty years ago, + one of our present circle—“Teacup Number Two,” The Professor,—read + a paper on Old Age, at a certain Breakfast-table, where he was in the + habit of appearing. That paper was published at the time, and has since + seen the light in other forms. He did not know so much about old age then + as he does now, and would doubtless write somewhat differently if he took + the subject up again. But I found that it was the general wish that + another of our company should let us hear what he had to say about it. I + received a polite note, requesting me to discourse about old age, inasmuch + as I was particularly well qualified by my experience to write in an + authoritative way concerning it. The fact is that I,—for it is + myself who am speaking,—have recently arrived at the age of + threescore years and twenty,—fourscore years we may otherwise call + it. In the arrangement of our table, I am Teacup Number One, and I may as + well say that I am often spoken of as The Dictator. There is nothing + invidious in this, as I am the oldest of the company, and no claim is less + likely to excite jealousy than that of priority of birth. + </p> + <p> + I received congratulations on reaching my eightieth birthday, not only + from our circle of Teacups, but from friends, near and distant, in large + numbers. I tried to acknowledge these kindly missives with the aid of a + most intelligent secretary; but I fear that there were gifts not thanked + for, and tokens of good-will not recognized. Let any neglected + correspondent be assured that it was not intentionally that he or she was + slighted. I was grateful for every such mark of esteem; even for the + telegram from an unknown friend in a distant land, for which I cheerfully + paid the considerable charge which the sender doubtless knew it would give + me pleasure to disburse for such an expression of friendly feeling. + </p> + <p> + I will not detain the reader any longer from the essay I have promised. + </p> + <p> + This is the paper read to The Teacups. + </p> + <p> + It is in A Song of Moses that we find the words, made very familiar to us + by the Episcopal Burial Service, which place the natural limit on life at + threescore years and ten, with an extra ten years for some of a stronger + constitution than the average. Yet we are told that Moses himself lived to + be a hundred and twenty years old, and that his eye was not dim nor his + natural strength abated. This is hard to accept literally, but we need not + doubt that he was very old, and in remarkably good condition for a man of + his age. Among his followers was a stout old captain, Caleb, the son of + Jephunneh. This ancient warrior speaks of himself in these brave terms: + “Lo, I am this day fourscore and five years old. As yet, I am as strong + this day as I was in the day that Moses sent me; as my strength was then, + even so is my strength now, for war, both to go out and to come in.” It is + not likely that anybody believed his brag about his being as good a man + for active service at eighty-five as he was at forty, when Moses sent him + out to spy the land of Canaan. But he was, no doubt, lusty and vigorous + for his years, and ready to smite the Canaanites hip and thigh, and drive + them out, and take possession of their land, as he did forthwith, when + Moses gave him leave. + </p> + <p> + Grand old men there were, three thousand years ago! But not all + octogenarians were like Caleb, the son of Jephunneh. Listen to poor old + Barzillai, and hear him piping: “I am this day fourscore years old; and + can I discern between good and evil? Can thy servant taste what I eat or + what I drink? Can I hear any more the voice of singing men and singing + women? Wherefore, then, should thy servant be yet a burden unto my lord + the king?” And poor King David was worse off than this, as you all + remember, at the early age of seventy. + </p> + <p> + Thirty centuries do not seem to have made any very great difference in the + extreme limits of life. Without pretending to rival the alleged cases of + life prolonged beyond the middle of its second century, such as those of + Henry Jenkins and Thomas Parr, we can make a good showing of centenarians + and nonagenarians. I myself remember Dr. Holyoke, of Salem, son of a + president of Harvard College, who answered a toast proposed in his honor + at a dinner given to him on his hundredth birthday. + </p> + <p> + “Father Cleveland,” our venerated city missionary, was born June 21, 1772, + and died June 5, 1872, within a little more than a fortnight of his + hundredth birthday. Colonel Perkins, of Connecticut, died recently after + celebrating his centennial anniversary. + </p> + <p> + Among nonagenarians, three whose names are well known to Bostonians, Lord + Lyndhurst, Josiah Quincy, and Sidney Bartlett, were remarkable for + retaining their faculties in their extreme age. That patriarch of our + American literature, the illustrious historian of his country, is still + with us, his birth dating in 1800. + </p> + <p> + Ranke, the great German historian, died at the age of ninety-one, and + Chevreul, the eminent chemist, at that of a hundred and two. + </p> + <p> + Some English sporting characters have furnished striking examples of + robust longevity. In Gilpin's “Forest Scenery” there is the story of one + of these horseback heroes. Henry Hastings was the name of this old + gentleman, who lived in the time of Charles the First. It would be hard to + find a better portrait of a hunting squire than that which the Earl of + Shaftesbury has the credit of having drawn of this very peculiar + personage. His description ends by saying, “He lived to be an hundred, and + never lost his eyesight nor used spectacles. He got on horseback without + help, and rode to the death of the stag till he was past fourscore.” + </p> + <p> + Everything depends on habit. Old people can do, of course, more or less + well, what they have been doing all their lives; but try to teach them any + new tricks, and the truth of the old adage will very soon show itself. Mr. + Henry Hastings had done nothing but hunt all his days, and his record + would seem to have been a good deal like that of Philippus Zaehdarm in + that untranslatable epitaph which may be found in “Sartor Resartus.” + Judged by its products, it was a very short life of a hundred useless + twelve months. + </p> + <p> + It is something to have climbed the white summit, the Mont Blanc of + fourscore. A small number only of mankind ever see their eightieth + anniversary. I might go to the statistical tables of the annuity and life + insurance offices for extended and exact information, but I prefer to take + the facts which have impressed themselves upon me in my own career. + </p> + <p> + The class of 1829 at Harvard College, of which I am a member, graduated, + according to the triennial, fifty-nine in number. It is sixty years, then, + since that time; and as they were, on an average, about twenty years old, + those who survive must have reached fourscore years. Of the fifty-nine + graduates ten only are living, or were at the last accounts; one in six, + very nearly. In the first ten years after graduation, our third decade, + when we were between twenty and thirty years old, we lost three members,—about + one in twenty; between the ages of thirty and forty, eight died,—one + in seven of those the decade began with; from forty to fifty, only two,—or + one in twenty-four; from fifty to sixty, eight,—or one in six; from + sixty to seventy, fifteen,—or two out of every five; from seventy to + eighty, twelve,—or one in two. The greatly increased mortality which + began with our seventh decade went on steadily increasing. At sixty we + come “within range of the rifle-pits,” to borrow an expression from my + friend Weir Mitchell. + </p> + <p> + Our eminent classmate, the late Professor Benjamin Peirce, showed by + numerical comparison that the men of superior ability outlasted the + average of their fellow-graduates. He himself lived a little beyond his + threescore and ten years. James Freeman Clarke almost reached the age of + eighty. The eighth decade brought the fatal year for Benjamin Robbins + Curtis, the great lawyer, who was one of the judges of the Supreme Court + of the United States; for the very able chief justice of Massachusetts, + George Tyler Bigelow; and for that famous wit and electric centre of + social life, George T. Davis. At the last annual dinner every effort was + made to bring all the survivors of the class together. Six of the ten + living members were there, six old men in the place of the thirty or forty + classmates who surrounded the long, oval table in 1859, when I asked, “Has + there any old fellow got mixed with the boys?”—11 boys whose tongues + were as the vibrating leaves of the forest; whose talk was like the voice + of many waters; whose laugh was as the breaking of mighty waves upon the + seashore. Among the six at our late dinner was our first scholar, the + thorough-bred and accomplished engineer who held the city of Lawrence in + his brain before it spread itself out along the banks of the Merrimac. + There, too, was the poet whose National Hymn, “My Country, 't is of thee,” + is known to more millions, and dearer to many of them, than all the other + songs written since the Psalms of David. Four of our six were clergymen; + the engineer and the present writer completed the list. Were we + melancholy? Did we talk of graveyards and epitaphs? No,—we + remembered our dead tenderly, serenely, feeling deeply what we had lost in + those who but a little while ago were with us. How could we forget James + Freeman Clarke, that man of noble thought and vigorous action, who + pervaded this community with his spirit, and was felt through all its + channels as are the light and the strength that radiate through the wires + which stretch above us? It was a pride and a happiness to have such + classmates as he was to remember. We were not the moping, complaining + graybeards that many might suppose we must have been. We had been favored + with the blessing of long life. We had seen the drama well into its fifth + act. The sun still warmed us, the air was still grateful and life-giving. + But there was another underlying source of our cheerful equanimity, which + we could not conceal from ourselves if we had wished to do it. Nature's + kindly anodyne is telling upon us more and more with every year. Our old + doctors used to give an opiate which they called “the black drop.” It was + stronger than laudanum, and, in fact, a dangerously powerful narcotic. + Something like this is that potent drug in Nature's pharmacopoeia which + she reserves for the time of need,—the later stages of life. She + commonly begins administering it at about the time of the “grand + climacteric,” the ninth septennial period, the sixty-third year. More and + more freely she gives it, as the years go on, to her grey-haired children, + until, if they last long enough, every faculty is benumbed, and they drop + off quietly into sleep under its benign influence. + </p> + <p> + Do you say that old age is unfeeling? It has not vital energy enough to + supply the waste of the more exhausting emotions. Old Men's Tears, which + furnished the mournful title to Joshua Scottow's Lamentations, do not + suggest the deepest grief conceivable. A little breath of wind brings down + the raindrops which have gathered on the leaves of the tremulous poplars. + A very slight suggestion brings the tears from Marlborough's eyes, but + they are soon over, and he is smiling again as an allusion carries him + back to the days of Blenheim and Malplaquet. Envy not the old man the + tranquillity of his existence, nor yet blame him if it sometimes looks + like apathy. Time, the inexorable, does not threaten him with the scythe + so often as with the sand-bag. He does not cut, but he stuns and + stupefies. One's fellow-mortals can afford to be as considerate and tender + with him as Time and Nature. + </p> + <p> + There was not much boasting among us of our present or our past, as we sat + together in the little room at the great hotel. A certain amount of + self-deception is quite possible at threescore years and ten, but at three + score years and twenty Nature has shown most of those who live to that age + that she is earnest, and means to dismantle and have done with them in a + very little while. As for boasting of our past, the laudator temporis acti + makes but a poor figure in our time. Old people used to talk of their + youth as if there were giants in those days. We knew some tall men when we + were young, but we can see a man taller than any one among them at the + nearest dime museum. We had handsome women among us, of high local + reputation, but nowadays we have professional beauties who challenge the + world to criticise them as boldly as Phryne ever challenged her Athenian + admirers. We had fast horses,—did not “Old Blue” trot a mile in + three minutes? True, but there is a three-year-old colt just put on the + track who has done it in a little more than two thirds of that time. It + seems as if the material world had been made over again since we were + boys. It is but a short time since we were counting up the miracles we had + lived to witness. The list is familiar enough: the railroad, the ocean + steamer, photography, the spectroscope, the telegraph, telephone, + phonograph, anesthetics, electric illumination,—with such lesser + wonders as the friction match, the sewing machine, and the bicycle. And + now, we said, we must have come to the end of these unparalleled + developments of the forces of nature. We must rest on our achievements. + The nineteenth century is not likely to add to them; we must wait for the + twentieth century. Many of us, perhaps most of us, felt in that way. We + had seen our planet furnished by the art of man with a complete nervous + system: a spinal cord beneath the ocean, secondary centres,—ganglions,—in + all the chief places where men are gathered together, and ramifications + extending throughout civilization. All at once, by the side of this + talking and light-giving apparatus, we see another wire stretched over our + heads, carrying force to a vast metallic muscular system,—a slender + cord conveying the strength of a hundred men, of a score of horses, of a + team of elephants. The lightning is tamed and harnessed, the thunderbolt + has become a common carrier. No more surprises in this century! A voice + whispers, What next? + </p> + <p> + It will not do for us to boast about our young days and what they had to + show. It is a great deal better to boast of what they could not show, and, + strange as it may seem, there is a certain satisfaction in it. In these + days of electric lighting, when you have only to touch a button and your + parlor or bedroom is instantly flooded with light, it is a pleasure to + revert to the era of the tinder-box, the flint and steel, and the + brimstone match. It gives me an almost proud satisfaction to tell how we + used, when those implements were not at hand or not employed, to light our + whale-oil lamp by blowing a live coal held against the wick, often + swelling our cheeks and reddening our faces until we were on the verge of + apoplexy. I love to tell of our stage-coach experiences, of our + sailing-packet voyages, of the semi-barbarous destitution of all modern + comforts and conveniences through which we bravely lived and came out the + estimable personages you find us. + </p> + <p> + Think of it! All my boyish shooting was done with a flint-lock gun; the + percussion lock came to me as one of those new-fangled notions people had + just got hold of. We ancients can make a grand display of minus quantities + in our reminiscences, and the figures look almost as well as if they had + the plus sign before them. + </p> + <p> + I am afraid that old people found life rather a dull business in the time + of King David and his rich old subject and friend, Barzillai, who, poor + man, could not have read a wicked novel, nor enjoyed a symphony concert, + if they had had those luxuries in his day. There were no pleasant + firesides, for there were no chimneys. There were no daily newspapers for + the old man to read, and he could not read them if there were, with his + dimmed eyes, nor hear them read, very probably, with his dulled ears. + There was no tobacco, a soothing drug, which in its various forms is a + great solace to many old men and to some old women, Carlyle and his mother + used to smoke their pipes together, you remember. + </p> + <p> + Old age is infinitely more cheerful, for intelligent people at least, than + it was two or three thousand years ago. It is our duty, so far as we can, + to keep it so. There will always be enough about it that is solemn, and + more than enough, alas! that is saddening. But how much there is in our + times to lighten its burdens! If they that look out at the windows be + darkened, the optician is happy to supply them with eye-glasses for use + before the public, and spectacles for their hours of privacy. If the + grinders cease because they are few, they can be made many again by a + third dentition, which brings no toothache in its train. By temperance and + good Habits of life, proper clothing, well-warmed, well-drained, and + well-ventilated dwellings, and sufficient, not too much exercise, the old + man of our time may keep his muscular strength in very good condition. I + doubt if Mr. Gladstone, who is fast nearing his eightieth birthday, would + boast, in the style of Caleb, that he was as good a man with his axe as he + was when he was forty, but I would back him,—if the match were + possible, for a hundred shekels, against that over-confident old + Israelite, to cut down and chop up a cedar of Lebanon. I know a most + excellent clergyman, not far from my own time of life, whom I would pit + against any old Hebrew rabbi or Greek philosopher of his years and weight, + if they could return to the flesh, to run a quarter of a mile on a good, + level track. + </p> + <p> + We must not make too much of such exceptional cases of prolonged activity. + I often reproached my dear friend and classmate, Tames Freeman Clarke, + that his ceaseless labors made it impossible for his coevals to enjoy the + luxury of that repose which their years demanded. A wise old man, the late + Dr. James Walker, president of Harvard University, said that the great + privilege of old age was the getting rid of responsibilities. These + hard-working veterans will not let one get rid of them until he drops in + his harness, and so gets rid of them and his life together. How often has + many a tired old man envied the superannuated family cat, stretched upon + the rug before the fire, letting the genial warmth tranquilly diffuse + itself through all her internal arrangements! No more watching for mice in + dark, damp cellars, no more awaiting the savage gray rat at the mouth of + his den, no more scurrying up trees and lamp-posts to avoid the neighbor's + cur who wishes to make her acquaintance! It is very grand to “die in + harness,” but it is very pleasant to have the tight straps unbuckled and + the heavy collar lifted from the neck and shoulders. + </p> + <p> + It is natural enough to cling to life. We are used to atmospheric + existence, and can hardly conceive of ourselves except as breathing + creatures. We have never tried any other mode of being, or, if we have, we + have forgotten all about it, whatever Wordsworth's grand ode may tell us + we remember. Heaven itself must be an experiment to every human soul which + shall find itself there. It may take time for an earthborn saint to become + acclimated to the celestial ether,—that is, if time can be said to + exist for a disembodied spirit. We are all sentenced to capital punishment + for the crime of living, and though the condemned cell of our earthly + existence is but a narrow and bare dwelling-place, we have adjusted + ourselves to it, and made it tolerably comfortable for the little while we + are to be confined in it. The prisoner of Chillon + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + “regained [his] freedom with a sigh,” + </pre> + <p> + and a tender-hearted mortal might be pardoned for looking back, like the + poor lady who was driven from her dwelling-place by fire and brimstone, at + the home he was leaving for the “undiscovered country.” + </p> + <p> + On the other hand, a good many persons, not suicidal in their tendencies, + get more of life than they want. One of our wealthy citizens said, on + hearing that a friend had dropped off from apoplexy, that it made his + mouth water to hear of such a case. It was an odd expression, but I have + no doubt that the fine old gentleman to whom it was attributed made use of + it. He had had enough of his gout and other infirmities. Swift's account + of the Struldbrugs is not very amusing reading for old people, but some + may find it a consolation to reflect on the probable miseries they escape + in not being doomed to an undying earthly existence. + </p> + <p> + There are strange diversities in the way in which different old persons + look upon their prospects. A millionaire whom I well remember confessed + that he should like to live long enough to learn how much a certain + fellow-citizen, a multimillionaire, was worth. One of the three + nonagenarians before referred to expressed himself as having a great + curiosity about the new sphere of existence to which he was looking + forward. + </p> + <p> + The feeling must of necessity come to many aged persons that they have + outlived their usefulness; that they are no longer wanted, but rather in + the way, drags on the wheels rather than helping them forward. But let + them remember the often-quoted line of Milton, + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + “They also serve who only stand and wait.” + </pre> + <p> + This is peculiarly true of them. They are helping others without always + being aware of it. They are the shields, the breakwaters, of those who + come after them. Every decade is a defence of the one next behind it. At + thirty the youth has sobered into manhood, but the strong men of forty + rise in almost unbroken rank between him and the approaches of old age as + they show in the men of fifty. At forty he looks with a sense of security + at the strong men of fifty, and sees behind them the row of sturdy + sexagenarians. When fifty is reached, somehow sixty does not look so old + as it once used to, and seventy is still afar off. After sixty the stern + sentence of the burial service seems to have a meaning that one did not + notice in former years. There begins to be something personal about it. + But if one lives to seventy he soon gets used to the text with the + threescore years and ten in it, and begins to count himself among those + who by reason of strength are destined to reach fourscore, of whom he can + see a number still in reasonably good condition. The octogenarian loves to + read about people of ninety and over. He peers among the asterisks of the + triennial catalogue of the University for the names of graduates who have + been seventy years out of college and remain still unstarred. He is + curious about the biographies of centenarians. Such escapades as those of + that terrible old sinner and ancestor of great men, the Reverend Stephen + Bachelder, interest him as they never did before. But he cannot deceive + himself much longer. See him walking on a level surface, and he steps off + almost as well as ever; but watch him coming down a flight of stairs, and + the family record could not tell his years more faithfully. He cut you + dead, you say? Did it occur to you that he could not see you clearly + enough to know you from any other son or daughter of Adam? He said he was + very glad to hear it, did he, when you told him that your beloved + grandmother had just deceased? Did you happen to remember that though he + does not allow that he is deaf, he will not deny that he does not hear + quite so well as he used to? No matter about his failings; the longer he + holds on to life, the longer he makes life seem to all the living who + follow him, and thus he is their constant benefactor. + </p> + <p> + Every stage of existence has its special trials and its special + consolations. Habits are the crutches of old age; by the aid of these we + manage to hobble along after the mental joints are stiff and the muscles + rheumatic, to speak metaphorically,—that is to say, when every act + of self-determination costs an effort and a pang. We become more and more + automatic as we grow older, and if we lived long enough we should come to + be pieces of creaking machinery like Maelzel's chess player,—or what + that seemed to be. + </p> + <p> + Emerson was sixty-three years old, the year I have referred to as that of + the grand climacteric, when he read to his son the poem he called + “Terminus,” beginning: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + “It is time to be old, + To take in sail. + The God of bounds, + Who sets to seas a shore, + Came to me in his fatal rounds + And said, 'No more!'” + </pre> + <p> + It was early in life to feel that the productive stage was over, but he + had received warning from within, and did not wish to wait for outside + advices. There is all the difference in the world in the mental as in the + bodily constitution of different individuals. Some must “take in sail” + sooner, some later. We can get a useful lesson from the American and the + English elms on our Common. The American elms are quite bare, and have + been so for weeks. They know very well that they are going to have storms + to wrestle with; they have not forgotten the gales of September and the + tempests of the late autumn and early winter. It is a hard fight they are + going to have, and they strip their coats off and roll up their + shirt-sleeves, and show themselves bare-armed and ready for the contest. + The English elms are of a more robust build, and stand defiant, with all + their summer clothing about their sturdy frames. They may yet have to + learn a lesson of their American cousins, for notwithstanding their + compact and solid structure they go to pieces in the great winds just as + ours do. We must drop much of our foliage before winter is upon us. We + must take in sail and throw over cargo, if that is necessary, to keep us + afloat. We have to decide between our duties and our instinctive demand of + rest. I can believe that some have welcomed the decay of their active + powers because it furnished them with peremptory reasons for sparing + themselves during the few years that were left them. + </p> + <p> + Age brings other obvious changes besides the loss of active power. The + sensibilities are less keen, the intelligence is less lively, as we might + expect under the influence of that narcotic which Nature administers. But + there is another effect of her “black drop” which is not so commonly + recognized. Old age is like an opium-dream. Nothing seems real except what + is unreal. I am sure that the pictures painted by the imagination,—the + faded frescos on the walls of memory,—come out in clearer and + brighter colors than belonged to them many years earlier. Nature has her + special favors for her children of every age, and this is one which she + reserves for our second childhood. + </p> + <p> + No man can reach an advanced age without thinking of that great change to + which, in the course of nature, he must be so near. It has been remarked + that the sterner beliefs of rigid theologians are apt to soften in their + later years. All reflecting persons, even those whose minds have been half + palsied by the deadly dogmas which have done all they could to disorganize + their thinking powers,—all reflecting persons, I say, must + recognize, in looking back over a long life, how largely their creeds, + their course of life, their wisdom and unwisdom, their whole characters, + were shaped by the conditions which surrounded them. Little children they + came from the hands of the Father of all; little children in their + helplessness, their ignorance, they are going back to Him. They cannot + help feeling that they are to be transferred from the rude embrace of the + boisterous elements to arms that will receive them tenderly. Poor + planetary foundlings, they have known hard treatment at the hands of the + brute forces of nature, from the control of which they are soon to be set + free. There are some old pessimists, it is true, who believe that they and + a few others are on a raft, and that the ship which they have quitted, + holding the rest of mankind, is going down with all on board. It is no + wonder that there should be such when we remember what have been the + teachings of the priesthood through long series of ignorant centuries. + Every age has to shape the Divine image it worships over again,—the + present age and our own country are busily engaged in the task at this + time. We unmake Presidents and make new ones. This is an apprenticeship + for a higher task. Our doctrinal teachers are unmaking the Deity of the + Westminster Catechism and trying to model a new one, with more of modern + humanity and less of ancient barbarism in his composition. If Jonathan + Edwards had lived long enough, I have no doubt his creed would have + softened into a kindly, humanized belief. + </p> + <p> + Some twenty or thirty years ago, I said to Longfellow that certain + statistical tables I had seen went to show that poets were not a + long-lived race. He doubted whether there was anything to prove they were + particularly short-lived. Soon after this, he handed me a list he had + drawn up. I cannot lay my hand upon it at this moment, but I remember that + Metastasio was the oldest of them all. He died at the age of eighty-four. + I have had some tables made out, which I have every reason to believe are + correct so far as they go. From these, it appears that twenty English + poets lived to the average age of fifty-six years and a little over. The + eight American poets on the list averaged seventy-three and a half, + nearly, and they are not all dead yet. The list including Greek, Latin, + Italian, and German poets, with American and English, gave an average of a + little over sixty-two years. Our young poets need not be alarmed. They can + remember that Bryant lived to be eighty-three years old, that Longfellow + reached seventy-five and Halleck seventy-seven, while Whittier is living + at the age of nearly eighty-two. Tennyson is still writing at eighty, and + Browning reached the age of seventy-seven. + </p> + <p> + Shall a man who in his younger days has written poetry, or what passed for + it, continue to attempt it in his later years? Certainly, if it amuses or + interests him, no one would object to his writing in verse as much as he + likes. Whether he should continue to write for the public is another + question. Poetry is a good deal a matter of heart-beats, and the + circulation is more languid in the later period of life. The joints are + less supple; the arteries are more or less “ossified.” Something like + these changes has taken place in the mind. It has lost the flexibility, + the plastic docility, which it had in youth and early manhood, when the + gristle had but just become hardened into bone. It is the nature of poetry + to writhe itself along through the tangled growths of the vocabulary, as a + snake winds through the grass, in sinuous, complex, and unexpected curves, + which crack every joint that is not supple as india-rubber. + </p> + <p> + I had a poem that I wanted to print just here. But after what I have this + moment said, I hesitated, thinking that I might provoke the obvious remark + that I exemplified the unfitness of which I had been speaking. I + remembered the advice I had given to a poetical aspirant not long since, + which I think deserves a paragraph to itself. + </p> + <p> + My friend, I said, I hope you will not write in verse. When you write in + prose you say what you mean. When you write in rhyme you say what you + must. + </p> + <p> + Should I send this poem to the publishers, or not? + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + “Some said, 'John, print it;' others said, 'Not so.'” + </pre> + <p> + I did not ask “some” or “others.” Perhaps I should have thought it best to + keep my poem to myself and the few friends for whom it was written. All at + once, my daimon—that other Me over whom I button my waistcoat when I + button it over my own person—put it into my head to look up the + story of Madame Saqui. She was a famous danseuse, who danced Napoleon in + and out, and several other dynasties besides. Her last appearance was at + the age of seventy-six, which is rather late in life for the tight rope, + one of her specialties. Jules Janin mummified her when she died in 1866, + at the age of eighty. He spiced her up in his eulogy as if she had been + the queen of a modern Pharaoh. His foamy and flowery rhetoric put me into + such a state of good-nature that I said, I will print my poem, and let the + critical Gil Blas handle it as he did the archbishop's sermon, or would + have done, if he had been a writer for the “Salamanca Weekly.” + </p> + <p> + It must be premised that a very beautiful loving cup was presented to me + on my recent birthday, by eleven ladies of my acquaintance. This was the + most costly and notable of all the many tributes I received, and for which + in different forms I expressed my gratitude. + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + TO THE ELEVEN LADIES + + WHO PRESENTED ME WITH A SILVER LOVING CUP ON THE + TWENTY-NINTH OF AUGUST, M DCCC LXXXIX. + + “Who gave this cup?” The secret thou wouldst steal + Its brimming flood forbids it to reveal: + No mortal's eye shall read it till he first + Cool the red throat of thirst. + + If on the golden floor one draught remain, + Trust me, thy careful search will be in vain; + Not till the bowl is emptied shalt thou know + The names enrolled below. + + Deeper than Truth lies buried in her well + Those modest names the graven letters spell + Hide from the sight; but, wait, and thou shalt see + Who the good angels be + + Whose bounty glistens in the beauteous gift + That friendly hands to loving lips shall lift: + Turn the fair goblet when its floor is dry, + Their names shall meet thine eye. + + Count thou their number on the beads of Heaven, + Alas! the clustered Pleiads are but seven; + Nay, the nine sister Muses are too few, + —The Graces must add two. + + “For whom this gift?” For one who all too long + Clings to his bough among the groves of song; + Autumn's last leaf, that spreads its faded wing + To greet a second spring. + + Dear friends, kind friends, whate'er the cup may hold, + Bathing its burnished depths, will change to gold + Its last bright drop let thirsty Maenads drain, + Its fragrance will remain. + + Better love's perfume in the empty bowl + Than wine's nepenthe for the aching soul + Sweeter than song that ever poet sung, + It makes an old heart young! +</pre> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0006" id="link2H_4_0006"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + III + </h2> + <p> + After the reading of the paper which was reported in the preceding number + of this record, the company fell into talk upon the subject with which it + dealt. + </p> + <p> + The Mistress. “I could have wished you had said more about the religious + attitude of old age as such. Surely the thoughts of aged persons must be + very much taken up with the question of what is to become of them. I + should like to have The Dictator explain himself a little more fully on + this point.” + </p> + <p> + My dear madam, I said, it is a delicate matter to talk about. You remember + Mr. Calhoun's response to the advances of an over-zealous young clergyman + who wished to examine him as to his outfit for the long journey. I think + the relations between man and his Maker grow more intimate, more + confidential, if I may say so, with advancing years. The old man is less + disposed to argue about special matters of belief, and more ready to + sympathize with spiritually minded persons without anxious questioning as + to the fold to which they belong. That kindly judgment which he exercises + with regard to others he will, naturally enough, apply to himself. The + caressing tone in which the Emperor Hadrian addresses his soul is very + much like that of an old person talking with a grandchild or some other + pet: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + “Animula, vagula, blandula, + Hospes comesque corporis.” + + “Dear little, flitting, pleasing sprite, + The body's comrade and its guest.” + </pre> + <p> + How like the language of Catullus to Lesbia's sparrow! + </p> + <p> + More and more the old man finds his pleasures in memory, as the present + becomes unreal and dreamlike, and the vista of his earthly future narrows + and closes in upon him. At last, if he live long enough, life comes to be + little more than a gentle and peaceful delirium of pleasing recollections. + To say, as Dante says, that there is no greater grief than to remember + past happiness in the hour of misery is not giving the whole truth. In the + midst of the misery, as many would call it, of extreme old age, there is + often a divine consolation in recalling the happy moments and days and + years of times long past. So beautiful are the visions of bygone delight + that one could hardly wish them to become real, lest they should lose + their ineffable charm. I can almost conceive of a dozing and dreamy + centenarian saying to one he loves, “Go, darling, go! Spread your wings + and leave me. So shall you enter that world of memory where all is lovely. + I shall not hear the sound of your footsteps any more, but you will float + before me, an aerial presence. I shall not hear any word from your lips, + but I shall have a deeper sense of your nearness to me than speech can + give. I shall feel, in my still solitude, as the Ancient Mariner felt when + the seraph band gathered before him: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + “'No voice did they impart + No voice; but oh! the silence sank + Like music on my heart.'” + </pre> + <p> + I said that the lenient way in which the old look at the failings of + others naturally leads them to judge themselves more charitably. They find + an apology for their short-comings and wrong-doings in another + consideration. They know very well that they are not the same persons as + the middle-aged individuals, the young men, the boys, the children, that + bore their names, and whose lives were continuous with theirs. Here is an + old man who can remember the first time he was allowed to go shooting. + What a remorseless young destroyer he was, to be sure! Wherever he saw a + feather, wherever a poor little squirrel showed his bushy tail, bang! went + the old “king's arm,” and the feathers or the fur were set flying like so + much chaff. Now that same old man,—the mortal that was called by his + name and has passed for the same person for some scores of years,—is + considered absurdly sentimental by kind-hearted women, because he opens + the fly-trap and sets all its captives free,—out-of-doors, of + course, but the dear souls all insisting, meanwhile, that the flies will, + every one of them, be back again in the house before the day is over. Do + you suppose that venerable sinner expects to be rigorously called to + account for the want of feeling he showed in those early years, when the + instinct of destruction, derived from his forest-roaming ancestors, led + him to acts which he now looks upon with pain and aversion? + </p> + <p> + “Senex” has seen three generations grow up, the son repeating the virtues + and the failings of the father, the grandson showing the same + characteristics as the father and grandfather. He knows that if such or + such a young fellow had lived to the next stage of life he would very + probably have caught up with his mother's virtues, which, like a graft of + a late fruit on an early apple or pear tree, do not ripen in her children + until late in the season. He has seen the successive ripening of one + quality after another on the boughs of his own life, and he finds it hard + to condemn himself for faults which only needed time to fall off and be + succeeded by better fruitage. I cannot help thinking that the recording + angel not only drops a tear upon many a human failing, which blots it out + forever, but that he hands many an old record-book to the imp that does + his bidding, and orders him to throw that into the fire instead of the + sinner for whom the little wretch had kindled it. + </p> + <p> + “And pitched him in after it, I hope,” said Number Seven, who is in some + points as much of an optimist as any one among us, in spite of the squint + in his brain,—or in virtue of it, if you choose to have it so. + </p> + <p> + “I like Wordsworth's 'Matthew,'” said Number Five, “as well as any picture + of old age I remember.” + </p> + <p> + “Can you repeat it to us?” asked one of The Teacups. + </p> + <p> + “I can recall two verses of it,” said Number Five, and she recited the two + following ones. Number Five has a very sweet voice. The moment she speaks + all the faces turn toward her. I don't know what its secret is, but it is + a voice that makes friends of everybody. + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + “'The sighs which Matthew heaved were sighs + Of one tired out with fun and madness; + The tears which came to Matthew's eyes + Were tears of light, the dew of gladness. + + “'Yet, sometimes, when the secret cup + Of still and serious thought went round, + It seemed as if he drank it up, + He felt with spirit so profound:' +</pre> + <p> + “This was the way in which Wordsworth paid his tribute to a + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + “'Soul of God's best earthly mould.'” + </pre> + <p> + The sweet voice left a trance-like silence after it, which may have lasted + twenty heart-beats. Then I said, We all thank you for your charming + quotation. How much more wholesome a picture of humanity than such stuff + as the author of the “Night Thoughts” has left us: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + “Heaven's Sovereign saves all beings but Himself + That hideous sight, a naked human heart.” + </pre> + <p> + Or the author of “Don Juan,” telling us to look into + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + “Man's heart, and view the hell that's there!” + </pre> + <p> + I hope I am quoting correctly, but I am more of a scholar in Wordsworth + than in Byron. Was Parson Young's own heart such a hideous spectacle to + himself? + </p> + <p> + If it was, he had better have stripped off his surplice. No,—it was + nothing but the cant of his calling. In Byron it was a mood, and he might + have said just the opposite thing the next day, as he did in his two + descriptions of the Venus de' Medici. That picture of old Matthew abides + in the memory, and makes one think better of his kind. What nobler tasks + has the poet than to exalt the idea of manhood, and to make the world we + live in more beautiful? + </p> + <p> + We have two or three young people with us who stand a fair chance of + furnishing us the element without which life and tea-tables alike are + wanting in interest. We are all, of course, watching them, and curious to + know whether we are to have a romance or not. Here is one of them; others + will show themselves presently. + </p> + <p> + I cannot say just how old the Tutor is, but I do not detect a gray hair in + his head. My sight is not so good as it was, however, and he may have + turned the sharp corner of thirty, and even have left it a year or two + behind him. More probably he is still in the twenties,—say + twenty-eight or twenty-nine. He seems young, at any rate, excitable, + enthusiastic, imaginative, but at the same time reserved. I am afraid that + he is a poet. When I say “I am afraid,” you wonder what I mean by the + expression. I may take another opportunity to explain and justify it; I + will only say now that I consider the Muse the most dangerous of sirens to + a young man who has his way to make in the world. Now this young man, the + Tutor, has, I believe, a future before him. He was born for a philosopher,—so + I read his horoscope,—but he has a great liking for poetry and can + write well in verse. We have had a number of poems offered for our + entertainment, which I have commonly been requested to read. There has + been some little mystery about their authorship, but it is evident that + they are not all from the same hand. Poetry is as contagious as measles, + and if a single case of it break out in any social circle, or in a school, + there are certain to be a number of similar cases, some slight, some + serious, and now and then one so malignant that the subject of it should + be put on a spare diet of stationery, say from two to three penfuls of ink + and a half sheet of notepaper per diem. If any of our poetical + contributions are presentable, the reader shall have a chance to see them. + </p> + <p> + It must be understood that our company is not invariably made up of the + same persons. The Mistress, as we call her, is expected to be always in + her place. I make it a rule to be present. The Professor is almost as sure + to be at the table as I am. We should hardly know what to do without + Number Five. It takes a good deal of tact to handle such a little assembly + as ours, which is a republic on a small scale, for all that they give me + the title of Dictator, and Number Five is a great help in every social + emergency. She sees when a discussion tends to become personal, and heads + off the threatening antagonists. She knows when a subject has been + knocking about long enough and dexterously shifts the talk to another + track. It is true that I am the one most frequently appealed to as the + highest tribunal in doubtful cases, but I often care more for Number + Five's opinion than I do for my own. Who is this Number Five, so + fascinating, so wise, so full of knowledge, and so ready to learn? She is + suspected of being the anonymous author of a book which produced a + sensation when published, not very long ago, and which those who read are + very apt to read a second time, and to leave on their tables for frequent + reference. But we have never asked her. I do not think she wants to be + famous. How she comes to be unmarried is a mystery to me; it must be that + she has found nobody worth caring enough for. I wish she would furnish us + with the romance which, as I said, our tea-table needs to make it + interesting. Perhaps the new-comer will make love to her,—I should + think it possible she might fancy him. + </p> + <p> + And who is the new-comer? He is a Counsellor and a Politician. Has a good + war record. Is about forty-five years old, I conjecture. Is engaged in a + great law case just now. Said to be very eloquent. Has an intellectual + head, and the bearing of one who has commanded a regiment or perhaps a + brigade. Altogether an attractive person, scholarly, refined has some + accomplishments not so common as they might be in the class we call + gentlemen, with an accent on the word. + </p> + <p> + There is also a young Doctor, waiting for his bald spot to come, so that + he may get into practice. + </p> + <p> + We have two young ladies at the table,—the English girl referred to + in a former number, and an American girl of about her own age. Both of + them are students in one of those institutions—I am not sure whether + they call it an “annex” or not; but at any rate one of those schools where + they teach the incomprehensible sort of mathematics and other bewildering + branches of knowledge above the common level of high-school education. + They seem to be good friends, and form a very pleasing pair when they walk + in arm in arm; nearly enough alike to seem to belong together, different + enough to form an agreeable contrast. + </p> + <p> + Of course we were bound to have a Musician at our table, and we have one + who sings admirably, and accompanies himself, or one or more of our + ladies, very frequently. + </p> + <p> + Such is our company when the table is full. But sometimes only half a + dozen, or it may be only three or four, are present. At other times we + have a visitor or two, either in the place of one of our habitual number, + or in addition to it. We have the elements, we think, of a pleasant social + gathering,—different sexes, ages, pursuits, and tastes,—all + that is required for a “symphony concert” of conversation. One of the + curious questions which might well be asked by those who had been with us + on different occasions would be, “How many poets are there among you?” + Nobody can answer this question. It is a point of etiquette with us not to + press our inquiries about these anonymous poems too sharply, especially if + any of them betray sentiments which would not bear rough handling. + </p> + <p> + I don't doubt that the different personalities at our table will get mixed + up in the reader's mind if he is not particularly clear-headed. That + happens very often, much oftener than all would be willing to confess, in + reading novels and plays. I am afraid we should get a good deal confused + even in reading our Shakespeare if we did not look back now and then at + the dramatis personae. I am sure that I am very apt to confound the + characters in a moderately interesting novel; indeed, I suspect that the + writer is often no better off than the reader in the dreary middle of the + story, when his characters have all made their appearance, and before they + have reached near enough to the denoument to have fixed their + individuality by the position they have arrived at in the chain of the + narrative. + </p> + <p> + My reader might be a little puzzled when he read that Number Five did or + said such or such a thing, and ask, “Whom do you mean by that title? I am + not quite sure that I remember.” Just associate her with that line of + Emerson, + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + “Why nature loves the number five,” + </pre> + <p> + and that will remind you that she is the favorite of our table. + </p> + <p> + You cannot forget who Number Seven is if I inform you that he specially + prides himself on being a seventh son of a seventh son. The fact of such a + descent is supposed to carry wonderful endowments with it. Number Seven + passes for a natural healer. He is looked upon as a kind of wizard, and is + lucky in living in the nineteenth century instead of the sixteenth or + earlier. How much confidence he feels in himself as the possessor of + half-supernatural gifts I cannot say. I think his peculiar birthright + gives him a certain confidence in his whims and fancies which but for that + he would hardly feel. After this explanation, when I speak of Number Five + or Number Seven, you will know to whom I refer. + </p> + <p> + The company are very frank in their criticisms of each other. “I did not + like that expression of yours, planetary foundlings,” said the Mistress. + “It seems to me that it is too like atheism for a good Christian like you + to use.” + </p> + <p> + Ah, my dear madam, I answered, I was thinking of the elements and the + natural forces to which man was born an almost helpless subject in the + rudimentary stages of his existence, and from which he has only partially + got free after ages upon ages of warfare with their tyranny. Think what + hunger forced the caveman to do! Think of the surly indifference of the + storms that swept the forest and the waters, the earthquake chasms that + engulfed him, the inundations that drowned him out of his miserable + hiding-places, the pestilences that lay in wait for him, the unequal + strife with ferocious animals! I need not sum up all the wretchedness that + goes to constitute the “martyrdom of man.” When our forefathers came to + this wilderness as it then was, and found everywhere the bones of the poor + natives who had perished in the great plague (which our Doctor there + thinks was probably the small-pox), they considered this destructive + malady as a special mark of providential favor for them. How about the + miserable Indians? Were they anything but planetary foundlings? No! + Civilization is a great foundling hospital, and fortunate are all those + who get safely into the creche before the frost or the malaria has killed + them, the wild beasts or the venomous reptiles worked out their deadly + appetites and instincts upon them. The very idea of humanity seems to be + that it shall take care of itself and develop its powers in the “struggle + for life.” Whether we approve it or not, if we can judge by the material + record, man was born a foundling, and fought his way as he best might to + that kind of existence which we call civilized,—one which a + considerable part of the inhabitants of our planet have reached. + </p> + <p> + If you do not like the expression planetary foundlings, I have no + objection to your considering the race as put out to nurse. And what a + nurse Nature is! She gives her charge a hole in the rocks to live in, ice + for his pillow and snow for his blanket, in one part of the world; the + jungle for his bedroom in another, with the tiger for his watch-dog, and + the cobra as his playfellow. + </p> + <p> + Well, I said, there may be other parts of the universe where there are no + tigers and no cobras. It is not quite certain that such realms of creation + are better off, on the whole, than this earthly residence of ours, which + has fought its way up to the development of such centres of civilization + as Athens and Rome, to such personalities as Socrates, as Washington. + </p> + <p> + “One of our company has been on an excursion among the celestial bodies of + our system, I understand,” said the Professor. + </p> + <p> + Number Five colored. “Nothing but a dream,” she said. “The truth is, I had + taken ether in the evening for a touch of neuralgia, and it set my + imagination at work in a way quite unusual with me. I had been reading a + number of books about an ideal condition of society,—Sir Thomas + Mores 'Utopia,' Lord Bacon's 'New Atlantis,' and another of more recent + date. I went to bed with my brain a good deal excited, and fell into a + deep slumber, in which I passed through some experiences so singular that, + on awaking, I put them down on paper. I don't know that there is anything + very original about the experiences I have recorded, but I thought them + worth preserving. Perhaps you would not agree with me in that belief.” + </p> + <p> + “If Number Five will give us a chance to form our own judgment about her + dream or vision, I think we shall enjoy it,” said the Mistress. “She knows + what will please The Teacups in the way of reading as well as I do how + many lumps of sugar the Professor wants in his tea and how many I want in + mine.” + </p> + <p> + The company was so urgent that Number Five sent up-stairs for her paper. + </p> + <p> + Number Five reads the story of her dream. + </p> + <p> + It cost me a great effort to set down the words of the manuscript from + which I am reading. My dreams for the most part fade away so soon after + their occurrence that I cannot recall them at all. But in this case my + ideas held together with remarkable tenacity. By keeping my mind steadily + upon the work, I gradually unfolded the narrative which follows, as the + famous Italian antiquary opened one of those fragile carbonized + manuscripts found in the ruins of Herculaneum or Pompeii. + </p> + <p> + The first thing I remember about it is that I was floating upward, without + any sense of effort on my part. The feeling was that of flying, which I + have often had in dreams, as have many other persons. It was the most + natural thing in the world,—a semi-materialized volition, if I may + use such an expression. + </p> + <p> + At the first moment of my new consciousness,—for I seemed to have + just emerged from a deep slumber, I was aware that there was a companion + at my side. Nothing could be more gracious than the way in which this + being accosted me. I will speak of it as she, because there was a + delicacy, a sweetness, a divine purity, about its aspect that recalled my + ideal of the loveliest womanhood. + </p> + <p> + “I am your companion and your guide,” this being made me understand, as + she looked at me. Some faculty of which I had never before been conscious + had awakened in me, and I needed no interpreter to explain the unspoken + language of my celestial attendant. + </p> + <p> + “You are not yet outside of space and time,” she said, “and I am going + with you through some parts of the phenomenal or apparent universe,—what + you call the material world. We have plenty of what you call time before + us, and we will take our voyage leisurely, looking at such objects of + interest as may attract our attention as we pass. The first thing you will + naturally wish to look at will be the earth you have just left. This is + about the right distance,” she said, and we paused in our flight. + </p> + <p> + The great globe we had left was rolling beneath us. No eye of one in the + flesh could see it as I saw or seemed to see it. No ear of any mortal + being could bear the sounds that came from it as I heard or seemed to hear + them. The broad oceans unrolled themselves before me. I could recognize + the calm Pacific and the stormy Atlantic,—the ships that dotted + them, the white lines where the waves broke on the shore,—frills on + the robes of the continents,—so they looked to my woman's + perception; the—vast South American forests; the glittering icebergs + about the poles; the snowy mountain ranges, here and there a summit + sending up fire and smoke; mighty rivers, dividing provinces within sight + of each other, and making neighbors of realms thousands of miles apart; + cities; light-houses to insure the safety of sea-going vessels, and + war-ships to knock them to pieces and sink them. All this, and infinitely + more, showed itself to me during a single revolution of the sphere: + twenty-four hours it would have been, if reckoned by earthly measurements + of time. I have not spoken of the sounds I heard while the earth was + revolving under us. The howl of storms, the roar and clash of waves, the + crack and crash of the falling thunderbolt,—these of course made + themselves heard as they do to mortal ears. But there were other sounds + which enchained my attention more than these voices of nature. As the + skilled leader of an orchestra hears every single sound from each member + of the mob of stringed and wind instruments, and above all the screech of + the straining soprano, so my sharpened perceptions made what would have + been for common mortals a confused murmur audible to me as compounded of + innumerable easily distinguished sounds. Above them all arose one + continued, unbroken, agonizing cry. It was the voice of suffering + womanhood, a sound that goes up day and night, one long chorus of tortured + victims. + </p> + <p> + “Let us get out of reach of this,” I said; and we left our planet, with + its blank, desolate moon staring at it, as if it had turned pale at the + sights and sounds it had to witness. + </p> + <p> + Presently the gilded dome of the State House, which marked our + starting-point, came into view for the second time, and I knew that this + side-show was over. I bade farewell to the Common with its Cogswell + fountain, and the Garden with its last awe-inspiring monument. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, if I could sometimes revisit these beloved scenes!” I exclaimed. + </p> + <p> + “There is nothing to hinder that I know of,” said my companion. “Memory + and imagination as you know them in the flesh are two winged creatures + with strings tied to their legs, and anchored to a bodily weight of a + hundred and fifty pounds, more or less. When the string is cut you can be + where you wish to be,—not merely a part of you, leaving the rest + behind, but the whole of you. Why shouldn't you want to revisit your old + home sometimes?” + </p> + <p> + I was astonished at the human way in which my guide conversed with me. It + was always on the basis of my earthly habits, experiences, and + limitations. “Your solar system,” she said, “is a very small part of the + universe, but you naturally feel a curiosity about the bodies which + constitute it and about their inhabitants. There is your moon: a bare and + desolate-looking place it is, and well it may be, for it has no respirable + atmosphere, and no occasion for one. The Lunites do not breathe; they live + without waste and without supply. You look as if you do not understand + this. Yet your people have, as you well know, what they call incandescent + lights everywhere. You would have said there can be no lamp without oil or + gas, or other combustible substance, to feed it; and yet you see a + filament which sheds a light like that of noon all around it, and does not + waste at all. So the Lunites live by influx of divine energy, just as the + incandescent lamp glows,—glows, and is not consumed; receiving its + life, if we may call it so, from the central power, which wears the + unpleasant name of 'dynamo.'” + </p> + <p> + The Lunites appeared to me as pale phosphorescent figures of ill-defined + outline, lost in their own halos, as it were. I could not help thinking of + Shelley's + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + “maiden + With white fire laden.” + </pre> + <p> + But as the Lunites were after all but provincials, as are the tenants of + all the satellites, I did not care to contemplate them for any great + length of time. + </p> + <p> + I do not remember much about the two planets that came next to our own, + except the beautiful rosy atmosphere of one and the huge bulk of the + other. Presently, we found ourselves within hailing distance of another + celestial body, which I recognized at once, by the rings which girdled it, + as the planet Saturn. A dingy, dull-looking sphere it was in its + appearance. “We will tie up here for a while,” said my attendant. The + easy, familiar way in which she spoke surprised and pleased me. + </p> + <p> + Why, said I,—The Dictator,—what is there to prevent beings of + another order from being as cheerful, as social, as good companions, as + the very liveliest of God's creatures whom we have known in the flesh? Is + it impossible for an archangel to smile? Is such a phenomenon as a laugh + never heard except in our little sinful corner of the universe? Do you + suppose, that when the disciples heard from the lips of their Master the + play of words on the name of Peter, there was no smile of appreciation on + the bearded faces of those holy men? From any other lips we should have + called this pleasantry a— + </p> + <p> + Number Five shook her head very slightly, and gave me a look that seemed + to say, “Don't frighten the other Teacups. We don't call things by the + names that belong to them when we deal with celestial subjects.” + </p> + <p> + We tied up, as my attendant playfully called our resting, so near the + planet that I could know—I will not say see and hear, but apprehend—all + that was going on in that remote sphere; remote, as we who live in what we + have been used to consider the centre of the rational universe regard it. + What struck me at once was the deadness of everything I looked upon. Dead, + uniform color of surface and surrounding atmosphere. Dead complexion of + all the inhabitants. Dead-looking trees, dead-looking grass, no flowers to + be seen anywhere. + </p> + <p> + “What is the meaning of all this?” I said to my guide. + </p> + <p> + She smiled good-naturedly, and replied, “It is a forlorn home for anything + above a lichen or a toadstool; but that is no wonder, when you know what + the air is which they breathe. It is pure nitrogen.” + </p> + <p> + The Professor spoke up. “That can't be, madam,” he said. “The spectroscope + shows the atmosphere of Saturn to be—no matter, I have forgotten + what; but it was not pure nitrogen, at any rate.” + </p> + <p> + Number Five is never disconcerted. “Will you tell me,” she said, “where + you have found any account of the bands and lines in the spectrum of + dream-nitrogen? I should be so pleased to become acquainted with them.” + </p> + <p> + The Professor winced a little, and asked Delilah, the handmaiden, to pass + a plate of muffins to him. The dream had carried him away, and he thought + for the moment that he was listening to a scientific paper. + </p> + <p> + Of course, my companion went on to say, the bodily constitution of the + Saturnians is wholly different from that of air-breathing, that is + oxygen-breathing, human beings. They are the dullest, slowest, most torpid + of mortal creatures. + </p> + <p> + All this is not to be wondered at when you remember the inert + characteristics of nitrogen. There are in some localities natural springs + which give out slender streams of oxygen. You will learn by and by what + use the Saturnians make of this dangerous gas, which, as you recollect, + constitutes about one fifth of your own atmosphere. Saturn has large lead + mines, but no other metal is found on this planet. The inhabitants have + nothing else to make tools of, except stones and shells. The mechanical + arts have therefore made no great progress among them. Chopping down a + tree with a leaden axe is necessarily a slow process. + </p> + <p> + So far as the Saturnians can be said to have any pride in anything, it is + in the absolute level which characterizes their political and social + order. They profess to be the only true republicans in the solar system. + The fundamental articles of their Constitution are these: + </p> + <p> + All Saturnians are born equal, live equal, and die equal. + </p> + <p> + All Saturnians are born free,—free, that is, to obey the rules laid + down for the regulation of their conduct, pursuits, and opinions, free to + be married to the person selected for them by the physiological section of + the government, and free to die at such proper period of life as may best + suit the convenience and general welfare of the community. + </p> + <p> + The one great industrial product of Saturn is the bread-root. The + Saturnians find this wholesome and palatable enough; and it is well they + do, as they have no other vegetable. It is what I should call a most + uninteresting kind of eatable, but it serves as food and drink, having + juice enough, so that they get along without water. They have a tough, dry + grass, which, matted together, furnishes them with clothes sufficiently + warm for their cold-blooded constitutions, and more than sufficiently + ugly. + </p> + <p> + A piece of ground large enough to furnish bread-root for ten persons is + allotted to each head of a household, allowance being made for the + possible increase of families. This, however, is not a very important + consideration, as the Saturnians are not a prolific race. The great object + of life being the product of the largest possible quantity of bread-roots, + and women not being so capable in the fields as the stronger sex, females + are considered an undesirable addition to society. The one thing the + Saturnians dread and abhor is inequality. The whole object of their laws + and customs is to maintain the strictest equality in everything,—social + relations, property, so far as they can be said to have anything which can + be so called, mode of living, dress, and all other matters. It is their + boast that nobody ever starved under their government. Nobody goes in + rags, for the coarse-fibred grass from which they fabricate their clothes + is very durable. (I confess I wondered how a woman could live in Saturn. + They have no looking-glasses. There is no such article as a ribbon known + among them. All their clothes are of one pattern. I noticed that there + were no pockets in any of their garments, and learned that a pocket would + be considered prima facie evidence of theft, as no honest person would + have use for such a secret receptacle.) Before the revolution which + established the great law of absolute and lifelong equality, the + inhabitants used to feed at their own private tables. Since the + regeneration of society all meals are taken in common. The last relic of + barbarism was the use of plates,—one or even more to each + individual. This “odious relic of an effete civilization,” as they called + it, has long been superseded by oblong hollow receptacles, one of which is + allotted to each twelve persons. A great riot took place when an attempt + was made by some fastidious and exclusive egotists to introduce partitions + which should partially divide one portion of these receptacles into + individual compartments. The Saturnians boast that they have no paupers, + no thieves, none of those fictitious values called money,—all which + things, they hear, are known in that small Saturn nearer the sun than the + great planet which is their dwelling-place. + </p> + <p> + “I suppose that now they have levelled everything they are quiet and + contented. Have they any of those uneasy people called reformers?” + </p> + <p> + “Indeed they have,” said my attendant. “There are the Orthobrachians, who + declaim against the shameful abuse of the left arm and hand, and insist on + restoring their perfect equality with the right. Then there are Isopodic + societies, which insist on bringing back the original equality of the + upper and lower limbs. If you can believe it, they actually practise going + on all fours,—generally in a private way, a few of them together, + but hoping to bring the world round to them in the near future.” + </p> + <p> + Here I had to stop and laugh. + </p> + <p> + “I should think life might be a little dull in Saturn,” I said. + </p> + <p> + “It is liable to that accusation,” she answered. “Do you notice how many + people you meet with their mouths stretched wide open?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” I said, “and I do not know what to make of it. I should think every + fourth or fifth person had his mouth open in that way.” + </p> + <p> + “They are suffering from the endemic disease of their planet, prolonged + and inveterate gaping or yawning, which has ended in dislocation of the + lower jaw. After a time this becomes fixed, and requires a difficult + surgical operation to restore it to its place.” + </p> + <p> + It struck me that, in spite of their boast that they have no paupers, no + thieves, no money, they were a melancholy-looking set of beings. + </p> + <p> + “What are their amusements?” I asked. + </p> + <p> + “Intoxication and suicide are their chief recreations. They have a way of + mixing the oxygen which issues in small jets from certain natural springs + with their atmospheric nitrogen in the proportion of about twenty per + cent, which makes very nearly the same thing as the air of your planet. + But to the Saturnians the mixture is highly intoxicating, and is therefore + a relief to the monotony of their every-day life. This mixture is greatly + sought after, but hard to obtain, as the sources of oxygen are few and + scanty. It shortens the lives of those who have recourse to it; but if it + takes too long, they have other ways of escaping from a life which cuts + and dries everything for its miserable subjects, defeats all the natural + instincts, confounds all individual characteristics, and makes existence + such a colossal bore, as your worldly people say, that self-destruction + becomes a luxury.” + </p> + <p> + Number Five stopped here. + </p> + <p> + Your imaginary wholesale Shakerdom is all very fine, said I. Your Utopia, + your New Atlantis, and the rest are pretty to look at. But your + philosophers are treating the world of living souls as if they were, each + of them, playing a game of solitaire,—all the pegs and all the holes + alike. Life is a very different sort of game. It is a game of chess, and + not of solitaire, nor even of checkers. The men are not all pawns, but you + have your knights, bishops, rooks,—yes, your king and queen,—to + be provided for. Not with these names, of course, but all looking for + their proper places, and having their own laws and modes of action. You + can play solitaire with the members of your own family for pegs, if you + like, and if none of them rebel. You can play checkers with a little + community of meek, like-minded people. But when it comes to the handling + of a great state, you will find that nature has emptied a box of chessmen + before you, and you must play with them so as to give each its proper + move, or sweep them off the board, and come back to the homely game such + as I used to see played with beans and kernels of corn on squares marked + upon the back of the kitchen bellows. + </p> + <p> + It was curious to see how differently Number Five's narrative was received + by the different listeners in our circle. Number Five herself said she + supposed she ought to be ashamed of its absurdities, but she did not know + that it was much sillier than dreams often are, and she thought it might + amuse the company. She was herself always interested by these ideal + pictures of society. But it seemed to her that life must be dull in any of + them, and with that idea in her head her dreaming fancy had drawn these + pictures. + </p> + <p> + The Professor was interested in her conception of the existence of the + Lunites without waste, and the death in life of the nitrogen-breathing + Saturnians. Dream-chemistry was a new subject to him. Perhaps Number Five + would give him some lessons in it. + </p> + <p> + At this she smiled, and said she was afraid she could not teach him + anything, but if he would answer a few questions in matter-of-fact + chemistry which had puzzled her she would be vastly obliged to him. + </p> + <p> + “You must come to my laboratory,” said the Professor. + </p> + <p> + “I will come to-morrow,” said Number Five. + </p> + <p> + Oh, yes! Much laboratory work they will do! Play of mutual affinities. + Amalgamates. No freezing mixtures, I'll warrant! + </p> + <p> + Why shouldn't we get a romance out of all this, hey? + </p> + <p> + But Number Five looks as innocent as a lamb, and as brave as a lion. She + does not care a copper for the looks that are going round The Teacups. + </p> + <p> + Our Doctor was curious about those cases of anchylosis, as he called it, + of the lower jaw. He thought it a quite possible occurrence. Both the + young girls thought the dream gave a very hard view of the optimists, who + look forward to a reorganization of society which shall rid mankind of the + terrible evils of over-crowding and competition. + </p> + <p> + Number Seven was quite excited about the matter. He had himself drawn up a + plan for a new social arrangement. He had shown it to the legal gentleman + who has lately joined us. This gentleman thought it well-intended, but + that it would take one constable to every three inhabitants to enforce its + provisions. + </p> + <p> + I said the dream could do no harm; it was too outrageously improbable to + come home to anybody's feelings. Dreams were like broken mosaics,—the + separated stones might here and there make parts of pictures. If one found + a caricature of himself made out of the pieces which had accidentally come + together, he would smile at it, knowing that it was an accidental effect + with no malice in it. If any of you really believe in a working Utopia, + why not join the Shakers, and convert the world to this mode of life? + Celibacy alone would cure a great many of the evils you complain of. + </p> + <p> + I thought this suggestion seemed to act rather unfavorably upon the ladies + of our circle. The two Annexes looked inquiringly at each other. Number + Five looked smilingly at them. She evidently thought it was time to change + the subject of conversation, for she turned to me and said, “You promised + to read us the poem you read before your old classmates the other + evening.” + </p> + <p> + I will fulfill my promise, I said. We felt that this might probably be our + last meeting as a Class. The personal reference is to our greatly beloved + and honored classmate, James Freeman Clarke. + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + AFTER THE CURFEW. + + The Play is over. While the light + Yet lingers in the darkening hall, + + I come to say a last Good-night + Before the final Exeunt all. + + We gathered once, a joyous throng: + The jovial toasts went gayly round; + With jest, and laugh, and shout, and song + we made the floors and walls resound. + + We come with feeble steps and slow, + A little band of four or five, + Left from the wrecks of long ago, + Still pleased to find ourselves alive. + + Alive! How living, too, are they + whose memories it is ours to share! + Spread the long table's full array, + There sits a ghost in every chair! + + One breathing form no more, alas! + Amid our slender group we see; + With him we still remained “The Class,” + without his presence what are we? + + The hand we ever loved to clasp, + That tireless hand which knew no rest, + Loosed from affection's clinging grasp, + Lies nerveless on the peaceful breast. + + The beaming eye, the cheering voice, + That lent to life a generous glow, + whose every meaning said “Rejoice,” + we see, we hear, no more below. + + The air seems darkened by his loss, + Earth's shadowed features look less fair, + And heavier weighs the daily cross + His willing shoulders helped as bear. + + Why mourn that we, the favored few + + Whom grasping Time so long has spared + Life's sweet illusions to pursue, + The common lot of age have shared? + + In every pulse of Friendship's heart + There breeds unfelt a throb of pain, + One hour must rend its links apart, + Though years on years have forged the chain. + + So ends “The Boys,”—a lifelong play. + We too must hear the Prompter's call + To fairer scenes and brighter day + Farewell! I let the curtain fall. +</pre> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0007" id="link2H_4_0007"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + IV + </h2> + <p> + If the reader thinks that all these talking Teacups came together by mere + accident, as people meet at a boarding-house, I may as well tell him at + once that he is mistaken. If he thinks I am going to explain how it is + that he finds them thus brought together, whether they form a secret + association, whether they are the editors of this or that periodical, + whether they are connected with some institution, and so on,—I must + disappoint him. It is enough that he finds them in each other's company, a + very mixed assembly, of different sexes, ages, and pursuits; and if there + is a certain mystery surrounds their meetings, he must not be surprised. + Does he suppose we want to be known and talked about in public as + “Teacups”? No; so far as we give to the community some records of the + talks at our table our thoughts become public property, but the sacred + personality of every Teacup must be properly respected. If any wonder at + the presence of one of our number, whose eccentricities might seem to + render him an undesirable associate of the company, he should remember + that some people may have relatives whom they feel bound to keep their eye + on; besides the cracked Teacup brings out the ring of the sound ones as + nothing else does. Remember also that soundest teacup does not always hold + the best tea, or the cracked teacup the worst. + </p> + <p> + This is a hint to the reader, who is not expected to be too curious about + the individual Teacups constituting our unorganized association. + </p> + <p> + The Dictator Discourses. + </p> + <p> + I have been reading Balzac's Peau de Chagrin. You have all read the story, + I hope, for it is the first of his wonderful romances which fixed the eyes + of the reading world upon him, and is a most fascinating if somewhat + fantastic tale. A young man becomes the possessor of a certain magic skin, + the peculiarity of which is that, while it gratifies every wish formed by + its possessor, it shrinks in all its dimensions each time that a wish is + gratified. The young man makes every effort to ascertain the cause of its + shrinking; invokes the aid of the physicist, the chemist, the student of + natural history, but all in vain. He draws a red line around it. That same + day he indulges a longing for a certain object. The next morning there is + a little interval between the red line and the skin, close to which it was + traced. So always, so inevitably. As he lives on, satisfying one desire, + one passion, after another, the process of shrinking continues. A mortal + disease sets in, which keeps pace with the shrinking skin, and his life + and his talisman come to an end together. + </p> + <p> + One would say that such a piece of integument was hardly a desirable + possession. And yet, how many of us have at this very moment a peau de + chagrin of our own, diminishing with every costly wish indulged, and + incapable, like the magical one of the story, of being arrested in its + progress. + </p> + <p> + Need I say that I refer to those coupon bonds, issued in the days of eight + and ten per cent interest, and gradually narrowing as they drop their + semiannual slips of paper, which represent wishes to be realized, as the + roses let fall their leaves in July, as the icicles melt away in the thaw + of January? + </p> + <p> + How beautiful was the coupon bond, arrayed in its golden raiment of + promises to pay at certain stated intervals, for a goodly number of coming + years! What annual the horticulturist can show will bear comparison with + this product of auricultural industry, which has flowered in midsummer and + midwinter for twenty successive seasons? And now the last of its blossoms + is to be plucked, and the bare stem, stripped of its ever maturing and + always welcome appendages, is reduced to the narrowest conditions of + reproductive existence. Such is the fate of the financial peau de chagrin. + Pity the poor fractional capitalist, who has just managed to live on the + eight per cent of his coupon bonds. The shears of Atropos were not more + fatal to human life than the long scissors which cut the last coupon to + the lean proprietor, whose slice of dry toast it served to flatter with + oleomargarine. Do you wonder that my thoughts took the poetical form, in + the contemplation of these changes and their melancholy consequences? If + the entire poem, of several hundred lines, was “declined with thanks” by + an unfeeling editor, that is no reason why you should not hear a verse or + two of it. + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + THE PEAU DE CHAGRIN OF STATE STREET. + + How beauteous is the bond + In the manifold array + Of its promises to pay, + While the eight per cent it gives + And the rate at which one lives + Correspond! + + But at last the bough is bare + Where the coupons one by one + Through their ripening days have run, + And the bond, a beggar now, + Seeks investment anyhow, + Anywhere! +</pre> + <p> + The Mistress commonly contents herself with the general supervision of the + company, only now and then taking an active part in the conversation. She + started a question the other evening which set some of us thinking. + </p> + <p> + “Why is it,” she said, “that there is so common and so intense a desire + for poetical reputation? It seems to me that, if I were a man, I had + rather have done something worth telling of than make verses about what + other people had done.” + </p> + <p> + “You agree with Alexander the Great,” said the Professor. “You would + prefer the fame of Achilles to that of Homer, who told the story of his + wrath and its direful consequences. I am afraid that I should hardly agree + with you. Achilles was little better than a Choctaw brave. I won't quote + Horace's line which characterizes him so admirably, for I will take it for + granted that you all know it. He was a gentleman,—so is a + first-class Indian,—a very noble gentleman in point of courage, + lofty bearing, courtesy, but an unsoaped, ill-clad, turbulent, + high-tempered young fellow, looked up to by his crowd very much as the + champion of the heavy weights is looked up to by his gang of blackguards. + Alexander himself was not much better,—a foolish, fiery young + madcap. How often is he mentioned except as a warning? His best record is + that he served to point a moral as 'Macedonian's madman.' He made a + figure, it is true, in Dryden's great Ode, but what kind of a figure? He + got drunk,—in very bad company, too,—and then turned fire-bug. + He had one redeeming point,—he did value his Homer, and slept with + the Iliad under his pillow. A poet like Homer seems to me worth a dozen + such fellows as Achilles and Alexander.” + </p> + <p> + “Homer is all very well far those that can read him,” said Number Seven, + “but the fellows that tag verses together nowadays are mostly fools. + That's my opinion. I wrote some verses once myself, but I had been sick + and was very weak; hadn't strength enough to write in prose, I suppose.” + </p> + <p> + This aggressive remark caused a little stir at our tea-table. For you must + know, if I have not told you already, there are suspicions that we have + more than one “poet” at our table. I have already confessed that I do + myself indulge in verse now and then, and have given my readers a specimen + of my work in that line. But there is so much difference of character in + the verses which are produced at our table, without any signature, that I + feel quite sure there are at least two or three other contributors besides + myself. There is a tall, old-fashioned silver urn, a sugar-bowl of the + period of the Empire, in which the poems sent to be read are placed by + unseen hands. When the proper moment arrives, I lift the cover of the urn + and take out any manuscript it may contain. If conversation is going on + and the company are in a talking mood, I replace the manuscript or + manuscripts, clap on the cover, and wait until there is a moment's quiet + before taking it off again. I might guess the writers sometimes by the + handwriting, but there is more trouble taken to disguise the chirography + than I choose to take to identify it as that of any particular member of + our company. + </p> + <p> + The turn the conversation took, especially the slashing onslaught of + Number Seven on the writers of verse, set me thinking and talking about + the matter. Number Five turned on the stream of my discourse by a + question. + </p> + <p> + “You receive a good many volumes of verse, do you not?” she said, with a + look which implied that she knew I did. + </p> + <p> + I certainly do, I answered. My table aches with them. My shelves groan + with them. Think of what a fuss Pope made about his trials, when he + complained that + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + “All Bedlam or Parnassus is let out”! +</pre> + <p> + What were the numbers of the + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + “Mob of gentlemen who wrote with ease” + </pre> + <p> + to that great multitude of contributors to our magazines, and authors of + little volumes—sometimes, alas! big ones—of verse, which pour + out of the press, not weekly, but daily, and at such a rate of increase + that it seems as if before long every hour would bring a book, or at least + an article which is to grow into a book by and by? + </p> + <p> + I thanked Heaven, the other day, that I was not a critic. These attenuated + volumes of poetry in fancy bindings open their covers at one like so many + little unfledged birds, and one does so long to drop a worm in,—a + worm in the shape of a kind word for the poor fledgling! But what a + desperate business it is to deal with this army of candidates for + immortality! I have often had something to say about them, and I may be + saying over the same things; but if I do not remember what I have said, it + is not very likely that my reader will; if he does, he will find, I am + very sure, that I say it a little differently. + </p> + <p> + What astonishes me is that this enormous mass of commonplace verse, which + burdens the postman who brings it, which it is a serious task only to get + out of its wrappers and open in two or three places, is on the whole of so + good an average quality. The dead level of mediocrity is in these days a + table-land, a good deal above the old sea-level of laboring incapacity. + Sixty years ago verses made a local reputation, which verses, if offered + today to any of our first-class magazines, would go straight into the + waste-basket. To write “poetry” was an art and mystery in which only a few + noted men and a woman or two were experts. + </p> + <p> + When “Potter the ventriloquist,” the predecessor of the well-remembered + Signor Blitz, went round giving his entertainments, there was something + unexplained, uncanny, almost awful, and beyond dispute marvellous, in his + performances. Those watches that disappeared and came back to their + owners, those endless supplies of treasures from empty hats, and + especially those crawling eggs that travelled all over the magician's + person, sent many a child home thinking that Mr. Potter must have ghostly + assistants, and raised grave doubts in the minds of “professors,” that is + members of the church, whether they had not compromised their characters + by being seen at such an unhallowed exhibition. Nowadays, a clever boy who + has made a study of parlor magic can do many of those tricks almost as + well as the great sorcerer himself. How simple it all seems when we have + seen the mechanism of the deception! + </p> + <p> + It is just so with writing in verse. It was not understood that everybody + can learn to make poetry, just as they can learn the more difficult tricks + of juggling. M. Jourdain's discovery that he had been speaking and writing + prose all his life is nothing to that of the man who finds out in middle + life, or even later, that he might have been writing poetry all his days, + if he had only known how perfectly easy and simple it is. Not everybody, + it is true, has a sufficiently good ear, a sufficient knowledge of rhymes + and capacity for handling them, to be what is called a poet. I doubt + whether more than nine out of ten, in the average, have that combination + of gifts required for the writing of readable verse. + </p> + <p> + This last expression of opinion created a sensation among The Teacups. + They looked puzzled for a minute. One whispered to the next Teacup, “More + than nine out of ten! I should think that was a pretty liberal allowance.” + </p> + <p> + Yes, I continued; perhaps ninety-nine in a hundred would come nearer to + the mark. I have sometimes thought I might consider it worth while to set + up a school for instruction in the art. “Poetry taught in twelve lessons.” + Congenital idiocy is no disqualification. Anybody can write “poetry.” It + is a most unenviable distinction to leave published a thin volume of + verse, which nobody wanted, nobody buys, nobody reads, nobody cares for + except the author, who cries over its pathos, poor fellow, and revels in + its beauties, which he has all to himself. Come! who will be my pupils in + a Course,—Poetry taught in twelve lessons? That made a laugh, in + which most of The Teacups, myself included, joined heartily. Through it + all I heard the sweet tones of Number Five's caressing voice; not because + it was more penetrating or louder than the others, for it was low and + soft, but it was so different from the others, there was so much more + life,—the life of sweet womanhood,—dissolved in it. + </p> + <p> + (Of course he will fall in love with her. “He? Who?” Why, the newcomer, + the Counsellor. Did I not see his eyes turn toward her as the silvery + notes rippled from her throat? Did they not follow her in her movements, + as she turned her tread this or that way? + </p> + <p> + —What nonsense for me to be arranging matters between two people + strangers to each other before to-day!) + </p> + <p> + “A fellow writes in verse when he has nothing to say, and feels too dull + and silly to say it in prose,” said Number Seven. + </p> + <p> + This made us laugh again, good-naturedly. I was pleased with a kind of + truth which it seemed to me to wrap up in its rather startling + affirmation. I gave a piece of advice the other day which I said I thought + deserved a paragraph to itself. It was from a letter I wrote not long ago + to an unknown young correspondent, who had a longing for seeing himself in + verse but was not hopelessly infatuated with the idea that he was born a + “poet.” “When you write in prose,” I said, “you say what you mean. When + you write in verse you say what you must.” I was thinking more especially + of rhymed verse. Rhythm alone is a tether, and not a very long one. But + rhymes are iron fetters; it is dragging a chain and ball to march under + their incumbrance; it is a clog-dance you are figuring in, when you + execute your metrical pas seul. Consider under what a disadvantage your + thinking powers are laboring when you are handicapped by the inexorable + demands of our scanty English rhyming vocabulary! You want to say + something about the heavenly bodies, and you have a beautiful line ending + with the word stars. Were you writing in prose, your imagination, your + fancy, your rhetoric, your musical ear for the harmonies of language, + would all have full play. But there is your rhyme fastening you by the + leg, and you must either reject the line which pleases you, or you must + whip your hobbling fancy and all your limping thoughts into the traces + which are hitched to one of three or four or half a dozen serviceable + words. You cannot make any use of cars, I will suppose; you have no + occasion to talk about scars; “the red planet Mars” has been used already; + Dibdin has said enough about the gallant tars; what is there left for you + but bars? So you give up your trains of thought, capitulate to necessity, + and manage to lug in some kind of allusion, in place or out of place, + which will allow you to make use of bars. Can there be imagined a more + certain process for breaking up all continuity of thought, for taking out + all the vigor, all the virility, which belongs to natural prose as the + vehicle of strong, graceful, spontaneous thought, than this miserable + subjugation of intellect to the-clink of well or ill matched syllables? I + think you will smile if I tell you of an idea I have had about teaching + the art of writing “poems” to the half-witted children at the Idiot + Asylum. The trick of rhyming cannot be more usefully employed than in + furnishing a pleasant amusement to the poor feeble-minded children. I + should feel that I was well employed in getting up a Primer for the pupils + of the Asylum, and other young persons who are incapable of serious + thought and connected expression. I would start in the simplest way; thus:— + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + When darkness veils the evening.... + I love to close my weary.... +</pre> + <p> + The pupil begins by supplying the missing words, which most children who + are able to keep out of fire and water can accomplish after a certain + number of trials. When the poet that is to be has got so as to perform + this task easily, a skeleton verse, in which two or three words of each + line are omitted, is given the child to fill up. By and by the more + difficult forms of metre are outlined, until at length a feebleminded + child can make out a sonnet, completely equipped with its four pairs of + rhymes in the first section and its three pairs in the second part. + </p> + <p> + Number Seven interrupted my discourse somewhat abruptly, as is his wont; + for we grant him a license, in virtue of his eccentricity, which we should + hardly expect to be claimed by a perfectly sound Teacup. + </p> + <p> + “That's the way,—that 's the way!” exclaimed he. “It's just the same + thing as my plan for teaching drawing.” + </p> + <p> + Some curiosity was shown among The Teacups to know what the queer creature + had got into his mind, and Number Five asked him, in her irresistible + tones, if he wouldn't oblige us by telling us all about it. + </p> + <p> + He looked at her a moment without speaking. I suppose he has often been + made fun of,—slighted in conversation, taken as a butt for people + who thought themselves witty, made to feel as we may suppose a cracked + piece of china-ware feels when it is clinked in the company of sound bits + of porcelain. I never saw him when he was carelessly dealt with in + conversation,—for it would sometimes happen, even at our table,—without + recalling some lines of Emerson which always struck me as of wonderful + force and almost terrible truthfulness:— + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + “Alas! that one is born in blight, + Victim of perpetual slight + When thou lookest in his face + Thy heart saith, 'Brother, go thy ways + None shall ask thee what thou doest, + Or care a rush for what thou knowest, + Or listen when thou repliest, + Or remember where thou liest, + Or how thy supper is sodden;' + And another is born + To make the sun forgotten.” + </pre> + <p> + Poor fellow! Number Seven has to bear a good deal in the way of neglect + and ridicule, I do not doubt. Happily, he is protected by an amount of + belief in himself which shields him from many assailants who would torture + a more sensitive nature. But the sweet voice of Number Five and her + sincere way of addressing him seemed to touch his feelings. That was the + meaning of his momentary silence, in which I saw that his eyes glistened + and a faint flush rose on his cheeks. In a moment, however, as soon as he + was on his hobby, he was all right, and explained his new and ingenious + system as follows: + </p> + <p> + “A man at a certain distance appears as a dark spot,—nothing more. + Good. Anybody, man, woman, or child, can make a dot, say a period, such as + we use in writing. Lesson No. 1. Make a dot; that is, draw your man, a + mile off, if that is far enough. Now make him come a little nearer, a few + rods, say. The dot is an oblong figure now. Good. Let your scholar draw + the oblong figure. It is as easy as it is to make a note of admiration. + Your man comes nearer, and now some hint of a bulbous enlargement at one + end, and perhaps of lateral appendages and a bifurcation, begins to show + itself. The pupil sets down with his pencil just what he sees,—no + more. So by degrees the man who serves as model approaches. A bright pupil + will learn to get the outline of a human figure in ten lessons, the model + coming five hundred feet nearer each time. A dull one may require fifty, + the model beginning a mile off, or more, and coming a hundred feet nearer + at each move.” + </p> + <p> + The company were amused by all this, but could not help seeing that there + was a certain practical possibility about the scheme. Our two Annexes, as + we call then, appeared to be interested in the project, or fancy, or whim, + or whatever the older heads might consider it. “I guess I'll try it,” said + the American Annex. “Quite so,” answered the English Annex. Why the first + girl “guessed” about her own intentions it is hard to say. What “quite so” + referred to it would not be easy to determine. But these two expressions + would decide the nationality of our two young ladies if we met them on the + top of the great Pyramid. + </p> + <p> + I was very glad that Number Seven had interrupted me. In fact, it is a + good thing once in a while to break in upon the monotony of a steady + talker at a dinner-table, tea-table, or any other place of social + converse. The best talker is liable to become the most formidable of + bores. It is a peculiarity of the bore that he is the last person to find + himself out. Many a terebrant I have known who, in that capacity, to + borrow a line from Coleridge, + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + “Was great, nor knew how great he was.” + </pre> + <p> + A line, by the way, which, as I have remarked, has in it a germ like that + famous “He builded better than he knew” of Emerson. + </p> + <p> + There was a slight lull in the conversation. The Mistress, who keeps an + eye on the course of things, and feared that one of those panic silences + was impending, in which everybody wants to say something and does not know + just what to say, begged me to go on with my remarks about the + “manufacture” of “poetry.” + </p> + <p> + You use the right term, madam, I said. The manufacture of that article has + become an extensive and therefore an important branch of industry. One + must be an editor, which I am not, or a literary confidant of a wide + circle of correspondents, which I am, to have any idea of the enormous + output of verse which is characteristic of our time. There are many + curious facts connected with this phenomenon. Educated people—yes, + and many who are not educated—have discovered that rhymes are not + the private property of a few noted writers who, having squatted on that + part of the literary domain some twenty or forty or sixty years ago, have, + as it were, fenced it in with their touchy, barbed-wire reputations, and + have come to regard it and cause it to be regarded as their private + property. The discovery having been made that rhyme is not a paddock for + this or that race-horse, but a common, where every colt, pony, and donkey + can range at will; a vast irruption into that once-privileged inclosure + has taken place. The study of the great invasion is interesting. + </p> + <p> + Poetry is commonly thought to be the language of emotion. On the contrary, + most of what is so called proves the absence of all passionate excitement. + It is a cold-blooded, haggard, anxious, worrying hunt after rhymes which + can be made serviceable, after images which will be effective, after + phrases which are sonorous; all this under limitations which restrict the + natural movements of fancy and imagination. There is a secondary + excitement in overcoming the difficulties of rhythm and rhyme, no doubt, + but this is not the emotional heat excited by the subject of the “poet's” + treatment. True poetry, the best of it, is but the ashes of a burnt-out + passion. The flame was in the eye and in the cheek, the coals may be still + burning in the heart, but when we come to the words it leaves behind it, a + little warmth, a cinder or two just glimmering under the dead gray ashes,—that + is all we can look for. When it comes to the manufactured article, one is + surprised to find how well the metrical artisans have learned to imitate + the real thing. They catch all the phrases of the true poet. They imitate + his metrical forms as a mimic copies the gait of the person he is + representing. + </p> + <p> + Now I am not going to abuse “these same metre ballad-mongers,” for the + obvious reason that, as all The Teacups know, I myself belong to the + fraternity. I don't think that this reason should hinder my having my say + about the ballad-mongering business. For the last thirty years I have been + in the habit of receiving a volume of poems or a poem, printed or + manuscript—I will not say daily, though I sometimes receive more + than one in a day, but at very short intervals. I have been consulted by + hundreds of writers of verse as to the merit of their performances, and + have often advised the writers to the best of my ability. Of late I have + found it impossible to attempt to read critically all the literary + productions, in verse and in prose, which have heaped themselves on every + exposed surface of my library, like snowdrifts along the railroad tracks,—blocking + my literary pathway, so that I can hardly find my daily papers. + </p> + <p> + What is the meaning of this rush into rhyming of such a multitude of + people, of all ages, from the infant phenomenon to the oldest inhabitant? + </p> + <p> + Many of my young correspondents have told me in so many words, “I want to + be famous.” Now it is true that of all the short cuts to fame, in time of + peace, there is none shorter than the road paved with rhymes. Byron woke + up one morning and found himself famous. Still more notably did Rouget de + l'Isle fill the air of France, nay, the whole atmosphere of freedom all + the world over, with his name wafted on the wings of the Marseillaise, the + work of a single night. But if by fame the aspirant means having his name + brought before and kept before the public, there is a much cheaper way of + acquiring that kind of notoriety. Have your portrait taken as a “Wonderful + Cure of a Desperate Disease given up by all the Doctors.” You will get a + fair likeness of yourself and a partial biographical notice, and have the + satisfaction, if not of promoting the welfare of the community, at least + that of advancing the financial interests of the benefactor whose + enterprise has given you your coveted notoriety. If a man wants to be + famous, he had much better try the advertising doctor than the terrible + editor, whose waste-basket is a maw which is as insatiable as the + temporary stomach of Jack the Giant-killer. + </p> + <p> + “You must not talk so,” said Number Five. “I know you don't mean any wrong + to the true poets, but you might be thought to hold them cheap, whereas + you value the gift in others,—in yourself too, I rather think. There + are a great many women,—and some men,—who write in verse from + a natural instinct which leads them to that form of expression. If you + could peep into the portfolio of all the cultivated women among your + acquaintances, you would be surprised, I believe, to see how many of them + trust their thoughts and feelings to verse which they never think of + publishing, and much of which never meets any eyes but their own. Don't be + cruel to the sensitive natures who find a music in the harmonies of rhythm + and rhyme which soothes their own souls, if it reaches no farther.” + </p> + <p> + I was glad that Number Five spoke up as she did. Her generous instinct + came to the rescue of the poor poets just at the right moment. Not that I + meant to deal roughly with them, but the “poets” I have been forced into + relation with have impressed me with certain convictions which are not + flattering to the fraternity, and if my judgments are not accompanied by + my own qualifications, distinctions, and exceptions, they may seem harsh + to many readers. + </p> + <p> + Let me draw a picture which many a young man and woman, and some no longer + young, will recognize as the story of their own experiences. + </p> + <p> + —He is sitting alone with his own thoughts and memories. What is + that book he is holding? Something precious, evidently, for it is bound in + “tree calf,” and there is gilding enough about it for a birthday present. + The reader seems to be deeply absorbed in its contents, and at times + greatly excited by what he reads; for his face is flushed, his eyes + glitter, and—there rolls a large tear down his cheek. Listen to him; + he is reading aloud in impassioned tones: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + And have I coined my soul in words for naught? + And must I, with the dim, forgotten throng + Of silent ghosts that left no earthly trace + To show they once had breathed this vital air, + Die out, of mortal memories? +</pre> + <p> + His voice is choked by his emotion. “How is it possible,” he says to + himself, “that any one can read my 'Gaspings for Immortality' without + being impressed by their freshness, their passion, their beauty, their + originality?” Tears come to his relief freely,—so freely that he has + to push the precious volume out of the range of their blistering shower. + Six years ago “Gaspings for Immortality” was published, advertised, + praised by the professionals whose business it is to boost their + publishers' authors. A week and more it was seen on the counters of the + booksellers and at the stalls in the railroad stations. Then it + disappeared from public view. A few copies still kept their place on the + shelves of friends,—presentation copies, of course, as there is no + evidence that any were disposed of by sale; and now, one might as well ask + for the lost books of Livy as inquire at a bookstore for “Gaspings for + Immortality.” + </p> + <p> + The authors of these poems are all round us, men and women, and no one + with a fair amount of human sympathy in his disposition would treat them + otherwise than tenderly. Perhaps they do not need tender treatment. How do + you know that posterity may not resuscitate these seemingly dead poems, + and give their author the immortality for which he longed and labored? It + is not every poet who is at once appreciated. Some will tell you that the + best poets never are. Who can say that you, dear unappreciated brother or + sister, are not one of those whom it is left for after times to discover + among the wrecks of the past, and hold up to the admiration of the world? + </p> + <p> + I have not thought it necessary to put in all the interpellations, as the + French call them, which broke the course of this somewhat extended series + of remarks; but the comments of some of The Teacups helped me to shape + certain additional observations, and may seem to the reader as of more + significance than what I had been saying. + </p> + <p> + Number Seven saw nothing but the folly and weakness of the “rhyming + cranks,” as he called them. He thought the fellow that I had described as + blubbering over his still-born poems would have been better occupied in + earning his living in some honest way or other. He knew one chap that + published a volume of verses, and let his wife bring up the wood for the + fire by which he was writing. A fellow says, “I am a poet!” and he thinks + himself different from common folks. He ought to be excused from military + service. He might be killed, and the world would lose the inestimable + products of his genius. “I believe some of 'em think,” said Number Seven, + “that they ought not to be called upon to pay their taxes and their bills + for household expenses, like the rest of us.” + </p> + <p> + “If they would only study and take to heart Horace's 'Ars Poetica,'” said + the Professor, “it would be a great benefit to them and to the world at + large. I would not advise you to follow him too literally, of course, for, + as you will see, the changes that have taken place since his time would + make some of his precepts useless and some dangerous, but the spirit of + them is always instructive. This is the way, somewhat modernized and + accompanied by my running commentary, in which he counsels a young poet: + </p> + <p> + “'Don't try to write poetry, my boy, when you are not in the mood for + doing it,—when it goes against the grain. You are a fellow of sense,—you + understand all that. + </p> + <p> + “'If you have written anything which you think well of, show it to + Mr.______, the well-known critic; to “the governor,” as you call him,—your + honored father; and to me, your friend.' + </p> + <p> + “To the critic is well enough, if you like to be overhauled and put out of + conceit with yourself,—it may do you good; but I wouldn't go to 'the + governor' with my verses, if I were you. For either he will think what you + have written is something wonderful, almost as good as he could have + written himself,—in fact, he always did believe in hereditary + genius,—or he will pooh-pooh the whole rhyming nonsense, and tell + you that you had a great deal better stick to your business, and leave all + the word-jingling to Mother Goose and her followers. + </p> + <p> + “'Show me your verses,' says Horace. Very good it was in him, and mighty + encouraging the first counsel he gives! 'Keep your poem to yourself for + some eight or ten years; you will have time to look it over, to correct it + and make it fit to present to the public.' + </p> + <p> + “'Much obliged for your advice,' says the poor poet, thirsting for a + draught of fame, and offered a handful of dust. And off he hurries to the + printer, to be sure that his poem comes out in the next number of the + magazine he writes for.” + </p> + <p> + “Is not poetry the natural language of lovers?” + </p> + <p> + It was the Tutor who asked this question, and I thought he looked in the + direction of Number Five, as if she might answer his question. But Number + Five stirred her tea devotedly; there was a lump of sugar, I suppose, that + acted like a piece of marble. So there was a silence while the lump was + slowly dissolving, and it was anybody's chance who saw fit to take up the + conversation. + </p> + <p> + The voice that broke the silence was not the sweet, winsome one we were + listening for, but it instantly arrested the attention of the company. It + was the grave, manly voice of one used to speaking, and accustomed to be + listened to with deference. This was the first time that the company as a + whole had heard it, for the speaker was the new-comer who has been + repeatedly alluded to,—the one of whom I spoke as “the Counsellor.” + </p> + <p> + “I think I can tell you something about that,” said the Counsellor. “I + suppose you will wonder how a man of my profession can know or interest + himself about a question so remote from his arid pursuits. And yet there + is hardly one man in a thousand who knows from actual experience a + fraction of what I have learned of the lovers' vocabulary in my + professional experience. I have, I am sorry to say, had to take an + important part in a great number of divorce cases. These have brought + before me scores and hundreds of letters, in which every shade of the + great passion has been represented. What has most struck me in these + amatory correspondences has been their remarkable sameness. It seems as if + writing love-letters reduced all sorts of people to the same level. I + don't remember whether Lord Bacon has left us anything in that line,—unless, + indeed, he wrote Romeo and Juliet' and the 'Sonnets;' but if he has, I + don't believe they differ so very much from those of his valet or his + groom to their respective lady-loves. It is always, My darling! my + darling! The words of endearment are the only ones the lover wants to + employ, and he finds the vocabulary too limited for his vast desires. So + his letters are apt to be rather tedious except to the personage to whom + they are addressed. As to poetry, it is very common to find it in + love-letters, especially in those that have no love in them. The letters + of bigamists and polygamists are rich in poetical extracts. Occasionally, + an original spurt in rhyme adds variety to an otherwise monotonous + performance. I don't think there is much passion in men's poetry addressed + to women. I agree with The Dictator that poetry is little more than the + ashes of passion; still it may show that the flame has had its sweep where + you find it, unless, indeed, it is shoveled in from another man's + fireplace.” + </p> + <p> + “What do you say to the love poetry of women?” asked the Professor. “Did + ever passion heat words to incandescence as it did those of Sappho?” + </p> + <p> + The Counsellor turned,—not to Number Five, as he ought to have done, + according to my programme, but to the Mistress. + </p> + <p> + “Madam,” he said, “your sex is adorable in many ways, but in the abandon + of a genuine love-letter it is incomparable. I have seen a string of + women's love-letters, in which the creature enlaced herself about the + object of her worship as that South American parasite which clasps the + tree to which it has attached itself, begins with a slender succulent + network, feeds on the trunk, spreads its fingers out to hold firmly to one + branch after another, thickens, hardens, stretches in every direction, + following the boughs,—and at length gets strong enough to hold in + its murderous arms, high up in air, the stump and shaft of the once sturdy + growth that was its support and subsistence.” + </p> + <p> + The Counsellor did not say all this quite so formally as I have set it + down here, but in a much easier way. In fact, it is impossible to smooth + out a conversation from memory without stiffening it; you can't have a + dress shirt look quite right without starching the bosom. + </p> + <p> + Some of us would have liked to hear more about those letters in the + divorce cases, but the Counsellor had to leave the table. He promised to + show us some pictures he has of the South American parasite. I have seen + them, and I can assure you they are very curious. + </p> + <p> + The following verses were found in the urn, or sugar-bowl. + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + CACOETHES SCRIBENDI. + + If all the trees in all the woods were men, + And each and every blade of grass a pen; + If every leaf on every shrub and tree + Turned to a sheet of foolscap; every sea + Were changed to ink, and all earth's living tribes + Had nothing else to do but act as scribes, + And for ten thousand ages, day and night, + The human race should write, and write, and write, + Till all the pens and paper were used up, + And the huge inkstand was an empty cup, + Still would the scribblers clustered round its brim + Call for more pens, more paper, and more ink. +</pre> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0008" id="link2H_4_0008"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + V + </h2> + <p> + “Dolce, ma non troppo dolce,” said the Professor to the Mistress, who was + sweetening his tea. She always sweetens his and mine for us. He has been + attending a series of concerts, and borrowed the form of the directions to + the orchestra. “Sweet, but not too sweet,” he said, translating the + Italian for the benefit of any of the company who might not be linguists + or musical experts. + </p> + <p> + “Do you go to those musical hullabaloos?” called out Number Seven. There + was something very much like rudeness in this question and the tone in + which it was asked. But we are used to the outbursts, and extravagances, + and oddities of Number Seven, and do not take offence at his rough + speeches as we should if any other of the company uttered them. + </p> + <p> + “If you mean the concerts that have been going on this season, yes, I do,” + said the Professor, in a bland, good-humored way. + </p> + <p> + “And do you take real pleasure in the din of all those screeching and + banging and growling instruments?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” he answered, modestly, “I enjoy the brouhaha, if you choose to + consider it such, of all this quarrelsome menagerie of noise-making + machines, brought into order and harmony by the presiding genius, the + leader, who has made a happy family of these snarling stringed instruments + and whining wind instruments, so that although + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + “Linguae centum sent, oraque centum, +</pre> + <p> + “notwithstanding there are a hundred vibrating tongues and a hundred + bellowing mouths, their one grand blended and harmonized uproar sets all + my fibres tingling with a not unpleasing tremor.” + </p> + <p> + “Do you understand it? Do you take any idea from it? Do you know what it + all means?” said Number Seven. + </p> + <p> + The Professor was long-suffering under this series of somewhat peremptory + questions. He replied very placidly, “I am afraid I have but a superficial + outside acquaintance with the secrets, the unfathomable mysteries, of + music. I can no more conceive of the working conditions of the great + composer, + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + “'Untwisting all the chains that tie + The hidden soul of harmony,' +</pre> + <p> + “than a child of three years can follow the reasonings of Newton's + 'Principia.' I do not even pretend that I can appreciate the work of a + great master as a born and trained musician does. Still, I do love a great + crash of harmonies, and the oftener I listen to these musical tempests the + higher my soul seems to ride upon them, as the wild fowl I see through my + window soar more freely and fearlessly the fiercer the storm with which + they battle.” + </p> + <p> + “That's all very well,” said Number Seven, “but I wish we could get the + old-time music back again. You ought to have heard,—no, I won't + mention her, dead, poor girl,—dead and singing with the saints in + heaven,—but the S____ girls. If you could have heard them as I did + when I was a boy, you would have cried, as we all used to. Do you cry at + those great musical smashes? How can you cry when you don't know what it + is all about? We used to think the words meant something,—we fancied + that Burns and Moore said some things very prettily. I suppose you've + outgrown all that.” + </p> + <p> + No one can handle Number Seven in one of his tantrums half so well as + Number Five can do it. She can pick out what threads of sense may be wound + off from the tangle of his ideas when they are crowded and confused, as + they are apt to be at times. She can soften the occasional expression of + half-concealed ridicule with which the poor old fellow's sallies are + liable to be welcomed—or unwelcomed. She knows that the edge of a + broken teacup may be sharper, very possibly, than that of a philosopher's + jackknife. A mind a little off its balance, one which has a slightly + squinting brain as its organ; will often prove fertile in suggestions. + Vulgar, cynical, contemptuous listeners fly at all its weaknesses, and + please themselves with making light of its often futile ingenuities, when + a wiser audience would gladly accept a hint which perhaps could be + developed in some profitable direction, or so interpret an erratic thought + that it should prove good sense in disguise. That is the way Number Five + was in the habit of dealing with the explosions of Number Seven. Do you + think she did not see the ridiculous element in a silly speech, or the + absurdity of an outrageously extravagant assertion? Then you never heard + her laugh when she could give way to her sense of the ludicrous without + wounding the feelings of any other person. But her kind heart never would + forget itself, and so Number Seven had a champion who was always ready to + see that his flashes of intelligence, fitful as they were, and liable to + be streaked with half-crazy fancies, always found one willing recipient of + what light there was in them. + </p> + <p> + Number Five, I have found, is a true lover of music, and has a right to + claim a real knowledge of its higher and deeper mysteries. But she + accepted very cordially what our light-headed companion said about the + songs he used to listen to. + </p> + <p> + “There is no doubt,” she remarked, “that the tears which used to be shed + over 'Oft in the sully night,' or 'Auld Robin Gray,' or 'A place in thy + memory, dearest,' were honest tears, coming from the true sources of + emotion. There was no affectation about them; those songs came home to the + sensibilities of young people,—of all who had any sensibilities to + be acted upon. And on the other hand, there is a great amount of + affectation in the apparent enthusiasm of many persons in admiring and + applauding music of which they have not the least real appreciation. They + do not know whether it is good or bad, the work of a first-rate or a + fifth-rate composer; whether there are coherent elements in it, or whether + it is nothing more than 'a concourse of sweet sounds' with no organic + connections. One must be educated, no doubt, to understand the more + complex and difficult kinds of musical composition. Go to the great + concerts where you know that the music is good, and that you ought to like + it whether you do or not. Take a music-bath once or twice a week for a few + seasons, and you will find that it is to the soul what the water-bath is + to the body. I wouldn't trouble myself about the affectations of people + who go to this or that series of concerts chiefly because it is + fashionable. Some of these people whom we think so silly and hold so cheap + will perhaps find, sooner or later, that they have a dormant faculty which + is at last waking up,—and that they who came because others came, + and began by staring at the audience, are listening with a newly found + delight. Every one of us has a harp under bodice or waistcoat, and if it + can only once get properly strung and tuned it will respond to all outside + harmonies.” + </p> + <p> + The Professor has some ideas about music, which I believe he has given to + the world in one form or another; but the world is growing old and + forgetful, and needs to be reminded now and then of what one has formerly + told it. + </p> + <p> + “I have had glimpses,” the Professor said, “of the conditions into which + music is capable of bringing a sensitive nature. Glimpses, I say, because + I cannot pretend that I am capable of sounding all the depths or reaching + all the heights to which music may transport our mortal consciousness. Let + me remind you of a curious fact with reference to the seat of the musical + sense. Far down below the great masses of thinking marrow and its + secondary agents, just as the brain is about to merge in the spinal cord, + the roots of the nerve of hearing spread their white filaments out into + the sentient matter, where they report what the external organs of hearing + tell them. This sentient matter is in remote connection only with the + mental organs, far more remote than the centres of the sense of vision and + that of smell. In a word, the musical faculty might be said to have a + little brain of its own. It has a special world and a private language all + to itself. How can one explain its significance to those whose musical + faculties are in a rudimentary state of development, or who have never had + them trained? Can you describe in intelligible language the smell of a + rose as compared with that of a violet? No,—music can be translated + only by music. Just so far as it suggests worded thought, it falls short + of its highest office. Pure emotional movements of the spiritual nature,—that + is what I ask of music. Music will be the universal language,—the + Volapuk of spiritual being.” + </p> + <p> + “Angels sit down with their harps and play at each other, I suppose,” said + Number Seven. “Must have an atmosphere up there if they have harps, or + they wouldn't get any music. Wonder if angels breathe like mortals? If + they do, they must have lungs and air passages, of course. Think of an + angel with the influenza, and nothing but a cloud for a handkerchief!” + </p> + <p> + —This is a good instance of the way in which Number Seven's + squinting brain works. You will now and then meet just such brains in + heads you know very well. Their owners are much given to asking + unanswerable questions. A physicist may settle it for us whether there is + an atmosphere about a planet or not, but it takes a brain with an extra + fissure in it to ask these unexpected questions,—questions which the + natural philosopher cannot answer, and which the theologian never thinks + of asking. + </p> + <p> + The company at our table do not keep always in the same places. The first + thing I noticed, the other evening, was that the Tutor was sitting between + the two Annexes, and the Counsellor was next to Number Five. Something + ought to come of this arrangement. One of those two young ladies must + certainly captivate and perhaps capture the Tutor. They are just the age + to be falling in love and to be fallen in love with. The Tutor is good + looking, intellectual, suspected of writing poetry, but a little shy, it + appears to me. I am glad to see him between the two girls. If there were + only one, she might be shy too, and then there would be less chance for a + romance such as I am on the lookout for; but these young persons lend + courage to each other, and between them, if he does not wake up like Cymon + at the sight of Iphigenia, I shall be disappointed. As for the Counsellor + and Number Five, they will soon find each other out. Yes, it is all pretty + clear in my mind,—except that there is always an x in a problem + where sentiments are involved. No, not so clear about the Tutor. + Predestined, I venture my guess, to one or the other, but to which? I will + suspend my opinion for the present. + </p> + <p> + I have found out that the Counsellor is a childless widower. I am told + that the Tutor is unmarried, and so far as known not engaged. There is no + use in denying it,—a company without the possibility of a love-match + between two of its circle is like a champagne bottle with the cork out for + some hours as compared to one with its pop yet in reserve. However, if + there should be any love-making, it need not break up our conversations. + Most of it will be carried on away from our tea-table. + </p> + <p> + Some of us have been attending certain lectures on Egypt and its + antiquities. I have never been on the Nile. If in any future state there + shall be vacations in which we may have liberty to revisit our old home, + equipped with a complete brand-new set of mortal senses as our travelling + outfit, I think one of the first places I should go to, after my + birthplace, the old gambrel-roofed house,—the place where it stood, + rather,—would be that mighty, awe-inspiring river. I do not suppose + we shall ever know half of what we owe to the wise and wonderful people + who confront us with the overpowering monuments of a past which flows out + of the unfathomable darkness as the great river streams from sources even + as yet but imperfectly explored. + </p> + <p> + I have thought a good deal about Egypt, lately, with reference to our + historical monuments. How did the great unknown mastery who fixed the two + leading forms of their monumental records arrive at those admirable and + eternal types, the pyramid and the obelisk? How did they get their model + of the pyramid? + </p> + <p> + Here is an hour-glass, not inappropriately filled with sand from the great + Egyptian desert. I turn it, and watch the sand as it accumulates in the + lower half of the glass. How symmetrically, how beautifully, how + inevitably, the little particles pile up the cone, which is ever building + and unbuilding itself, always aiming at the stability which is found only + at a certain fixed angle! The Egyptian children playing in the sand must + have noticed this as they let the grains fall from their hands, and the + sloping sides of the miniature pyramid must have been among the familiar + sights to the little boys and girls for whom the sand furnished their + earliest playthings. Nature taught her children through the working of the + laws of gravitation how to build so that her forces should act in harmony + with art, to preserve the integrity of a structure meant to reach a + far-off posterity. The pyramid is only the cone in which Nature arranges + her heaped and sliding fragments; the cone with flattened Surfaces, as it + is prefigured in certain well-known crystalline forms. The obelisk is from + another of Nature's patterns; it is only a gigantic acicular crystal. + </p> + <p> + The Egyptians knew what a monument should be, simple, noble, durable. It + seems to me that we Americans might take a lesson from those early + architects. Our cemeteries are crowded with monuments which are very far + from simple, anything but noble, and stand a small chance of being + permanent. The pyramid is rarely seen, perhaps because it takes up so much + room; and when built on a small scale seems insignificant as we think of + it, dwarfed by the vast structures of antiquity. The obelisk is very + common, and when in just proportions and of respectable dimensions is + unobjectionable. + </p> + <p> + But the gigantic obelisks like that on Bunker Hill, and especially the + Washington monument at the national capital, are open to critical + animadversion. Let us contrast the last mentioned of these great piles + with the obelisk as the Egyptian conceived and executed it. The new + Pharaoh ordered a memorial of some important personage or event. In the + first place, a mighty stone was dislodged from its connections, and + lifted, unbroken, from the quarry. This was a feat from which our modern + stone-workers shrink dismayed. The Egyptians appear to have handled these + huge monoliths as our artisans handle hearthstones and doorsteps, for the + land actually bristled with such giant columns. They were shaped and + finished as nicely as if they were breastpins for the Titans to wear, and + on their polished surfaces were engraved in imperishable characters the + records they were erected to preserve. + </p> + <p> + Europe and America borrow these noble productions of African art and + power, and find them hard enough to handle after they have succeeded in + transporting them to Rome, or London, or New York. Their simplicity, + grandeur, imperishability, speaking symbolism, shame all the pretentious + and fragile works of human art around them. The obelisk has no joints for + the destructive agencies of nature to attack; the pyramid has no masses + hanging in unstable equilibrium, and threatening to fall by their own + weight in the course of a thousand or two years. + </p> + <p> + America says the Father of his Country must have a monument worthy of his + exalted place in history. What shall it be? A temple such as Athens might + have been proud to rear upon her Acropolis? An obelisk such as Thebes + might have pointed out with pride to the strangers who found admission + through her hundred gates? After long meditation and the rejection of the + hybrid monstrosities with which the nation was menaced, an obelisk is at + last decided upon. How can it be made grand and dignified enough to be + equal to the office assigned it? We dare not attempt to carve a single + stone from the living rock,—all our modern appliances fail to make + the task as easy to us as it seems to have been to the early Egyptians. No + artistic skill is required in giving a four-square tapering figure to a + stone column. If we cannot shape a solid obelisk of the proper dimensions, + we can build one of separate blocks. How can we give it the distinction we + demand for it? The nation which can brag that it has “the biggest show on + earth” cannot boast a great deal in the way of architecture, but it can do + one thing,—it can build an obelisk that shall be taller than any + structure now standing which the hand of man has raised. Build an obelisk! + How different the idea of such a structure from that of the unbroken, + unjointed prismatic shaft, one perfect whole, as complete in itself, as + fitly shaped and consolidated to defy the elements, as the towering palm + or the tapering pine! Well, we had the satisfaction for a time of claiming + the tallest structure in the world; and now that the new Tower of Babel + which has sprung up in Paris has killed that pretention, I think we shall + feel and speak more modestly about our stone hyperbole, our + materialization of the American love of the superlative. We have the + higher civilization among us, and we must try to keep down the + forth-putting instincts of the lower. We do not want to see our national + monument placarded as “the greatest show on earth,”—perhaps it is + well that it is taken down from that bad eminence. + </p> + <p> + I do not think that this speech of mine was very well received. It + appeared to jar somewhat on the nerves of the American Annex. There was a + smile on the lips of the other Annex,—the English girl,—which + she tried to keep quiet, but it was too plain that she enjoyed my + diatribe. + </p> + <p> + It must be remembered that I and the other Teacups, in common with the + rest of our fellow-citizens, have had our sensibilities greatly worked + upon, our patriotism chilled, our local pride outraged, by the + monstrosities which have been allowed to deform our beautiful public + grounds. We have to be very careful in conducting a visitor, say from his + marble-fronted hotel to the City Hall.—Keep pretty straight along + after entering the Garden,—you will not care to inspect the little + figure of the military gentleman to your right.—Yes, the Cochituate + water is drinkable, but I think I would not turn aside to visit that small + fabric which makes believe it is a temple, and is a weak-eyed fountain + feebly weeping over its own insignificance. About that other stone + misfortune, cruelly reminding us of the “Boston Massacre,” we will not + discourse; it is not imposing, and is rarely spoken of. + </p> + <p> + What a mortification to the inhabitants of a city with some hereditary and + contemporary claims to cultivation; which has noble edifices, grand + libraries, educational institutions of the highest grade, an art-gallery + filled with the finest models and rich in paintings and statuary,—a + stately city that stretches both arms across the Charles to clasp the + hands of Harvard, her twin-sister, each lending lustre to the other like + double stars,—what a pity that she should be so disfigured by crude + attempts to adorn her and commemorate her past that her most loving + children blush for her artificial deformities amidst the wealth of her + natural beauties! One hardly knows which to groan over most sadly,—the + tearing down of old monuments, the shelling of the Parthenon, the + overthrow of the pillared temples of Rome, and in a humbler way the + destruction of the old Hancock house, or the erection of monuments which + are to be a perpetual eyesore to ourselves and our descendants. + </p> + <p> + We got talking on the subject of realism, of which so much has been said + of late. + </p> + <p> + It seems to me, I said, that the great additions which have been made by + realism to the territory of literature consist largely in swampy, + malarious, ill-smelling patches of soil which had previously been left to + reptiles and vermin. It is perfectly easy to be original by violating the + laws of decency and the canons of good taste. The general consent of + civilized people was supposed to have banished certain subjects from the + conversation of well-bred people and the pages of respectable literature. + There is no subject, or hardly any, which may not be treated of at the + proper time, in the proper place, by the fitting person, for the right + kind of listener or reader. But when the poet or the story-teller invades + the province of the man of science, he is on dangerous ground. I need say + nothing of the blunders he is pretty sure to make. The imaginative writer + is after effects. The scientific man is after truth. Science is decent, + modest; does not try to startle, but to instruct. The same scenes and + objects which outrage every sense of delicacy in the story teller's highly + colored paragraphs can be read without giving offence in the chaste + language of the physiologist or the physician. + </p> + <p> + There is a very celebrated novel, “Madame Bovary,” the work of M. + Flaubert, which is noted for having been the subject of prosecution as an + immoral work. That it has a serious lesson there is no doubt, if one will + drink down to the bottom of the cup. But the honey of sensuous description + is spread so deeply over the surface of the goblet that a large proportion + of its readers never think of its holding anything else. All the phases of + unhallowed passion are described in full detail. That is what the book is + bought and read for, by the great majority of its purchasers, as all but + simpletons very well know. That is what makes it sell and brought it into + the courts of justice. This book is famous for its realism; in fact, it is + recognized as one of the earliest and most brilliant examples of that + modern style of novel which, beginning where Balzac left off, attempted to + do for literature what the photograph has done for art. For those who take + the trouble to drink out of the cup below the rim of honey, there is a + scene where realism is carried to its extreme,—surpassed in horror + by no writer, unless it be the one whose name must be looked for at the + bottom of the alphabet, as if its natural place were as low down in the + dregs of realism as it could find itself. This is the death-bed scene, + where Madame Bovary expires in convulsions. The author must have visited + the hospitals for the purpose of watching the terrible agonies he was to + depict, tramping from one bed to another until he reached the one where + the cries and contortions were the most frightful. Such a scene he has + reproduced. No hospital physician would have pictured the straggle in such + colors. In the same way, that other realist, M. Zola, has painted a + patient suffering from delirium tremens, the disease known to common + speech as “the horrors.” In describing this case he does all that language + can do to make it more horrible than the reality. He gives us, not + realism, but super-realism, if such a term does not contradict itself. + </p> + <p> + In this matter of the literal reproduction of sights and scenes which our + natural instinct and our better informed taste and judgment teach us to + avoid, art has been far in advance of literature. It is three hundred + years since Joseph Ribera, more commonly known as Spagnoletto, was born in + the province Valencia, in Spain. We had the misfortune of seeing a + painting of his in a collection belonging to one of the French princes, + and exhibited at the Art Museum. It was that of a man performing upon + himself the operation known to the Japanese as hararkiri. Many persons who + looked upon this revolting picture will never get rid of its remembrance, + and will regret the day when their eyes fell upon it. I should share the + offence of the painter if I ventured to describe it. Ribera was fond of + depicting just such odious and frightful subjects. “Saint Lawrence + writhing on his gridiron, Saint Sebastian full of arrows, were equally a + source of delight to him. Even in subjects which had no such elements of + horror he finds the materials for the delectation of his ferocious pencil; + he makes up for the defect by rendering with a brutal realism deformity + and ugliness.” + </p> + <p> + The first great mistake made by the ultra-realists; like Flaubert and + Zola, is, as I have said, their ignoring the line of distinction between + imaginative art and science. We can find realism enough in books of + anatomy, surgery, and medicine. In studying the human figure, we want to + see it clothed with its natural integuments. It is well for the artist to + study the ecorche in the dissecting-room, but we do not want the Apollo or + the Venus to leave their skins behind them when they go into the gallery + for exhibition. Lancisi's figures show us how the great statues look when + divested of their natural covering. It is instructive, but useful chiefly + as a means to aid in the true artistic reproduction of nature. When the + hospitals are invaded by the novelist, he should learn something from the + physician as well as from the patients. Science delineates in monochrome. + She never uses high tints and strontian lights to astonish lookers-on. + Such scenes as Flaubert and Zola describe would be reproduced in their + essential characters, but not dressed up in picturesque phrases. That is + the first stumbling-block in the way of the reader of such realistic + stories as those to which I have referred. There are subjects which must + be investigated by scientific men which most educated persons would be + glad to know nothing about. When a realistic writer like Zola surprises + his reader into a kind of knowledge he never thought of wishing for, he + sometimes harms him more than he has any idea of doing. He wants to + produce a sensation, and he leaves a permanent disgust not to be got rid + of. Who does not remember odious images that can never be washed out from + the consciousness which they have stained? A man's vocabulary is terribly + retentive of evil words, and the images they present cling to his memory + and will not loose their hold. One who has had the mischance to soil his + mind by reading certain poems of Swift will never cleanse it to its + original whiteness. Expressions and thoughts of a certain character stain + the fibre of the thinking organ, and in some degree affect the hue of + every idea that passes through the discolored tissues. + </p> + <p> + This is the gravest accusation to bring against realism, old or recent, + whether in the brutal paintings of Spagnoletto or in the unclean + revelations of Zola. Leave the description of the drains and cesspools to + the hygienic specialist, the painful facts of disease to the physician, + the details of the laundry to the washerwoman. If we are to have realism + in its tedious descriptions of unimportant particulars, let it be of + particulars which do not excite disgust. Such is the description of the + vegetables in Zola's “Ventre de Paris,” where, if one wishes to see the + apotheosis of turnips, beets, and cabbages, he can find them glorified as + supremely as if they had been symbols of so many deities; their forms, + their colors, their expression, worked upon until they seem as if they + were made to be looked at and worshipped rather than to be boiled and + eaten. + </p> + <p> + I am pleased to find a French critic of M. Flaubert expressing ideas with + which many of my own entirely coincide. “The great mistake of the + realists,” he says, “is that they profess to tell the truth because they + tell everything. This puerile hunting after details, this cold and cynical + inventory of all the wretched conditions in the midst of which poor + humanity vegetates, not only do not help us to understand it better, but, + on the contrary, the effect on the spectators is a kind of dazzled + confusion mingled with fatigue and disgust. The material truthfulness to + which the school of M. Flaubert more especially pretends misses its aim in + going beyond it. Truth is lost in its own excess.” + </p> + <p> + I return to my thoughts on the relations of imaginative art in all its + forms with science. The subject which in the hands of the scientific + student is handled decorously,—reverently, we might almost say,—becomes + repulsive, shameful, and debasing in the unscrupulous manipulations of the + low-bred man of letters. + </p> + <p> + I confess that I am a little jealous of certain tendencies in our own + American literature, which led one of the severest and most outspoken of + our satirical fellow-countrymen, no longer living to be called to account + for it, to say; in a moment of bitterness, that the mission of America was + to vulgarize mankind. I myself have sometimes wondered at the pleasure + some Old World critics have professed to find in the most lawless freaks + of New World literature. I have questioned whether their delight was not + like that of the Spartans in the drunken antics of their Helots. But I + suppose I belong to another age, and must not attempt to judge the present + by my old-fashioned standards. + </p> + <p> + The company listened very civilly to these remarks, whether they agreed + with them or not. I am not sure that I want all the young people to think + just as I do in matters of critical judgment. New wine does not go well + into old bottles, but if an old cask has held good wine, it may improve a + crude juice to stand awhile upon the lees of that which once filled it. + </p> + <p> + I thought the company had had about enough of this disquisition. They + listened very decorously, and the Professor, who agrees very well with me, + as I happen to know, in my views on this business of realism, thanked me + for giving them the benefit of my opinion. + </p> + <p> + The silence that followed was broken by Number Seven's suddenly + exclaiming,— + </p> + <p> + “I should like to boss creation for a week!” + </p> + <p> + This expression was an outbreak suggested by some train of thought which + Number Seven had been following while I was discoursing. I do not think + one of the company looked as if he or she were shocked by it as an + irreligious or even profane speech. It is a better way always, in dealing + with one of those squinting brains, to let it follow out its own thought. + It will keep to it for a while; then it will quit the rail, so to speak, + and run to any side-track which may present itself. + </p> + <p> + “What is the first thing you would do?” asked Number Five in a pleasant, + easy way. + </p> + <p> + “The first thing? Pick out a few thousand of the best specimens of the + best races, and drown the rest like so many blind puppies.” + </p> + <p> + “Why,” said she, “that was tried once, and does not seem to have worked + very well.” + </p> + <p> + “Very likely. You mean Noah's flood, I suppose. More people nowadays, and + a better lot to pick from than Noah had.” + </p> + <p> + “Do tell us whom you would take with you,” said Number Five. + </p> + <p> + “You, if you would go,” he answered, and I thought I saw a slight flush on + his cheek. “But I didn't say that I should go aboard the new ark myself. I + am not sure that I should. No, I am pretty sure that I shouldn't. I don't + believe, on the whole, it would pay me to save myself. I ain't of much + account. But I could pick out some that were.” + </p> + <p> + And just now he was saying that he should like to boss the universe! All + this has nothing very wonderful about it. Every one of us is subject to + alternations of overvaluation and undervaluation of ourselves. Do you not + remember soliloquies something like this? “Was there ever such a + senseless, stupid creature as I am? How have I managed to keep so long out + of the idiot asylum? Undertook to write a poem, and stuck fast at the + first verse. Had a call from a friend who had just been round the world. + Did n't ask him one word about what he had seen or heard, but gave him + full details of my private history, I having never been off my own + hearth-rug for more than an hour or two at a time, while he was + circumnavigating and circumrailroading the globe. Yes, if anybody can + claim the title, I am certainly the prize idiot.” I am afraid that we all + say such things as this to ourselves at times. Do we not use more emphatic + words than these in our self-depreciation? I cannot say how it is with + others, but my vocabulary of self-reproach and humiliation is so rich in + energetic expressions that I should be sorry to have an interviewer + present at an outburst of one of its raging geysers, its savage + soliloquies. A man is a kind of inverted thermometer, the bulb uppermost, + and the column of self-valuation is all the time going up and down. Number + Seven is very much like other people in this respect,—very much like + you and me. + </p> + <p> + This train of reflections must not carry me away from Number Seven. + </p> + <p> + “If I can't get a chance to boss this planet for a week or so,” he began + again, “I think I could write its history,—yes, the history of the + world, in less compass than any one who has tried it so far.” + </p> + <p> + “You know Sir Walter Raleigh's 'History of the World,' of course?” said + the Professor. + </p> + <p> + “More or less,—more or less,” said Number Seven prudently. “But I + don't care who has written it before me. I will agree to write the story + of two worlds, this and the next, in such a compact way that you can + commit them both to memory in less time than you can learn the answer to + the first question in the Catechism.” + </p> + <p> + What he had got into his head we could not guess, but there was no little + curiosity to discover the particular bee which was buzzing in his bonnet. + He evidently enjoyed our curiosity, and meant to keep us waiting awhile + before revealing the great secret. + </p> + <p> + “How many words do you think I shall want?” + </p> + <p> + It is a formula, I suppose, I said, and I will grant you a hundred words. + </p> + <p> + “Twenty,” said the Professor. “That was more than the wise men of Greece + wanted for their grand utterances.” + </p> + <p> + The two Annexes whispered together, and the American Annex gave their + joint result. One thousand was the number they had fixed on. They were + used to hearing lectures, and could hardly conceive that any subject could + be treated without taking up a good part of an hour. + </p> + <p> + “Less than ten,” said Number Five. “If there are to be more than ten, I + don't believe that Number Seven would think the surprise would be up to + our expectations.” + </p> + <p> + “Guess as much as you like,” said Number Seven. + </p> + <p> + “The answer will keep. I don't mean to say what it is until we are ready + to leave the table.” He took a blank card from his pocket-book, wrote + something on it, or appeared, at any rate, to write, and handed it, face + down, to the Mistress. What was on the card will be found near the end of + this paper. I wonder if anybody will be curious enough to look further + along to find out what it was before she reads the next paragraph? + </p> + <p> + In the mean time there is a train of thought suggested by Number Seven and + his whims. If you want to know how to account for yourself, study the + characters of your relations. All of our brains squint more or less. There + is not one in a hundred, certainly, that does not sometimes see things + distorted by double refraction, out of plumb or out of focus, or with + colors which do not belong to it, or in some way betraying that the two + halves of the brain are not acting in harmony with each other. You wonder + at the eccentricities of this or that connection of your own. Watch + yourself, and you will find impulses which, but for the restraints you put + upon them, would make you do the same foolish things which you laugh at in + that cousin of yours. I once lived in the same house with the near + relative of a very distinguished person, whose name is still honored and + revered among us. His brain was an active one, like that of his famous + relative, but it was full of random ideas, unconnected trains of thought, + whims, crotchets, erratic suggestions. Knowing him, I could interpret the + mental characteristics of the whole family connection in the light of its + exaggerated peculiarities as exhibited in my odd fellow-boarder. Squinting + brains are a great deal more common than we should at first sight believe. + Here is a great book, a solid octavo of five hundred pages, full of the + vagaries of this class of organizations. I hope to refer to this work + hereafter, but just now I will only say that, after reading till one is + tired the strange fancies of the squarers of the circle, the inventors of + perpetual motion, and the rest of the moonstruck dreamers, most persons + will confess to themselves that they have had notions as wild, conceptions + as extravagant, theories as baseless, as the least rational of those which + are here recorded. + </p> + <p> + Some day I want to talk about my library. It is such a curious collection + of old and new books, such a mosaic of learning and fancies and follies, + that a glance over it would interest the company. Perhaps I may hereafter + give you a talk abut books, but while I am saying a few passing words upon + the subject the greatest bibliographical event that ever happened in the + book-market of the New World is taking place under our eyes. Here is Mr. + Bernard Quaritch just come from his well-known habitat, No. 15 Piccadilly, + with such a collection of rare, beautiful, and somewhat expensive volumes + as the Western Continent never saw before on the shelves of a bibliopole. + </p> + <p> + We bookworms are all of us now and then betrayed into an extravagance. The + keen tradesmen who tempt us are like the fishermen who dangle a minnow, a + frog, or a worm before the perch or pickerel who may be on the lookout for + his breakfast. But Mr. Quaritch comes among us like that formidable angler + of whom it is said, + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + His hook he baited with a dragon's tail, + And sat upon a rock and bobbed for whale. +</pre> + <p> + The two catalogues which herald his coming are themselves interesting + literary documents. One can go out with a few shillings in his pocket, and + venture among the books of the first of these catalogues without being + ashamed to show himself with no larger furnishing of the means for + indulging his tastes,—he will find books enough at comparatively + modest prices. But if one feels very rich, so rich that it requires a good + deal to frighten him, let him take the other catalogue and see how many + books he proposes to add to his library at the prices affixed. Here is a + Latin Psalter with the Canticles, from the press of Fust and Schoeffer, + the second book issued from their press, the second book printed with a + date, that date being 1459. There are only eight copies of this work known + to exist; you can have one of them, if so disposed, and if you have change + enough in your pocket. Twenty-six thousand two hundred and fifty dollars + will make you the happy owner of this precious volume. If this is more + than you want to pay, you can have the Gold Gospels of Henry VIII., on + purple vellum, for about half the money. There are pages on pages of + titles of works any one of which would be a snug little property if turned + into money at its catalogue price. + </p> + <p> + Why will not our multimillionaires look over this catalogue of Mr. + Quaritch, and detain some of its treasures on this side of the Atlantic + for some of our public libraries? We decant the choicest wines of Europe + into our cellars; we ought to be always decanting the precious treasures + of her libraries and galleries into our own, as we have opportunity and + means. As to the means, there are so many rich people who hardly know what + to do with their money that it is well to suggest to them any new useful + end to which their superfluity may contribute. I am not in alliance with + Mr. Quaritch; in fact, I am afraid of him, for if I stayed a single hour + in his library, where I never was but once, and then for fifteen minutes + only, I should leave it so much poorer than I entered it that I should be + reminded of the picture in the titlepage of Fuller's 'Historie of the Holy + Warre,' “We went out full. We returned empty.” + </p> + <p> + —After the teacups were all emptied, the card containing Number + Seven's abridged history of two worlds, this and the next, was handed + round. + </p> + <p> + This was all it held: + </p> + <p> + After all had looked at it, it was passed back to me. “Let The Dictator + interpret it,” they all said. + </p> + <p> + This is what I announced as my interpretation: + </p> + <p> + Two worlds, the higher and the lower, separated by the thinnest of + partitions. The lower world is that of questions; the upper world is that + of answers. Endless doubt and unrest here below; wondering, admiring, + adoring certainty above.—Am I not right? + </p> + <p> + “You are right,” answered Number Seven solemnly. “That is my revelation.” + </p> + <p> + The following poem was found in the sugar-bowl. + </p> + <p> + I read it to the company. There was much whispering and there were many + conjectures as to its authorship, but every Teacup looked innocent, and we + separated each with his or her private conviction. I had mine, but I will + not mention it. + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + THE ROSE AND THE FERN. + + Lady, life's sweetest lesson wouldst thou learn, + Come thou with me to Love's enchanted bower: + High overhead the trellised roses burn; + Beneath thy feet behold the feathery fern, + A leaf without a flower. + + What though the rose leaves fall? They still are sweet, + And have been lovely in their beauteous prime, + While the bare frond seems ever to repeat, + “For us no bud, no blossom, wakes to greet + The joyous flowering time!” + + Heed thou the lesson. Life has leaves to tread + And flowers to cherish; summer round thee glows; + Wait not till autumn's fading robes are shed, + But while its petals still are burning red + Gather life's full-blown rose! +</pre> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0009" id="link2H_4_0009"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + VI + </h2> + <p> + Of course the reading of the poem at the end of the last paper has left a + deep impression. I strongly suspect that something very much like + love-making is going on at our table. A peep under the lid of the + sugar-bowl has shown me that there is another poem ready for the company. + That receptacle is looked upon with an almost tremulous excitement by more + than one of The Teacups. The two Annexes turn towards the mystic urn as if + the lots which were to determine their destiny were shut up in it. Number + Five, quieter, and not betraying more curiosity than belongs to the sex at + all ages, glances at the sugarbowl now and then; looking so like a + clairvoyant, that sometimes I cannot help thinking she must be one. There + is a sly look about that young Doctor's eyes, which might imply that he + knows something about what the silver vessel holds, or is going to hold. + The Tutor naturally falls under suspicion, as he is known to have written + and published poems. I suppose the Professor and myself have hardly been + suspected of writing love-poems; but there is no telling,—there is + no telling. Why may not some one of the lady Teacups have played the part + of a masculine lover? George Sand, George Eliot, Charles Egbert Craddock, + made pretty good men in print. The authoress of “Jane Eyre” was taken for + a man by many persons. Can Number Five be masquerading in verse? Or is one + of the two Annexes the make believe lover? Or did these girls lay their + heads together, and send the poem we had at our last sitting to puzzle the + company? It is certain that the Mistress did not write the poem. It is + evident that Number Seven, who is so severe in his talk about rhymesters, + would not, if he could, make such a fool of himself as to set up for a + “poet.” Why should not the Counsellor fall in love and write verses? A + good many lawyers have been “poets.” + </p> + <p> + Perhaps the next poem, which may be looked for in its proper place, may + help us to form a judgment. We may have several verse-writers among us, + and if so there will be a good opportunity for the exercise of judgment in + distributing their productions among the legitimate claimants. In the mean + time, we must not let the love-making and the song-writing interfere with + the more serious matters which these papers are expected to contain. + </p> + <p> + Number Seven's compendious and comprehensive symbolism proved suggestive, + as his whimsical notions often do. It always pleases me to take some hint + from anything he says when I can, and carry it out in a direction not + unlike that of his own remark. I reminded the company of his enigmatical + symbol. + </p> + <p> + You can divide mankind in the same way, I said. Two words, each of two + letters, will serve to distinguish two classes of human beings who + constitute the principal divisions of mankind. Can any of you tell what + those two words are? + </p> + <p> + “Give me five letters,” cried Number Seven, “and I can solve your problem! + F-o-o-l-s,—those five letters will give you the first and largest + half. For the other fraction”— + </p> + <p> + Oh, but, said I, I restrict you absolutely to two letters. If you are + going to take five, you may as well take twenty or a hundred. + </p> + <p> + After a few attempts, the company gave it up. The nearest approach to the + correct answer was Number Five's guess of Oh and Ah: Oh signifying eternal + striving after an ideal, which belongs to one kind of nature; and Ah the + satisfaction of the other kind of nature, which rests at ease in what it + has attained. + </p> + <p> + Good! I said to Number Five, but not the answer I am after. The great + division between human beings is into the Ifs and the Ases. + </p> + <p> + “Is the last word to be spelt with one or two s's?” asked the young + Doctor. + </p> + <p> + The company laughed feebly at this question. I answered it soberly. With + one s. There are more foolish people among the Ifs than there are among + the Ases. + </p> + <p> + The company looked puzzled, and asked for an explanation. + </p> + <p> + This is the meaning of those two words as I interpret them: If it were,—if + it might be,—if it could be,—if it had been. One portion of + mankind go through life always regretting, always whining, always + imagining. These are the people whose backbones remain cartilaginous all + their lives long, as do those of certain other vertebrate animals,—the + sturgeons, for instance. A good many poets must be classed with this group + of vertebrates. + </p> + <p> + As it is,—this is the way in which the other class of people look at + the conditions in which they find themselves. They may be optimists or + pessimists, they are very largely optimists,—but, taking things just + as they find them, they adjust the facts to their wishes if they can; and + if they cannot, then they adjust themselves to the facts. I venture to say + that if one should count the Ifs and the Ases in the conversation of his + acquaintances, he would find the more able and important persons among + them—statesmen, generals, men of business—among the Ases, and + the majority of the conspicuous failures among the Ifs. I don't know but + this would be as good a test as that of Gideon,—lapping the water or + taking it up in the hand. I have a poetical friend whose conversation is + starred as thick with ifs as a boiled ham is with cloves. But another + friend of mine, a business man, whom I trust in making my investments, + would not let me meddle with a certain stock which I fancied, because, as + he said, “there are too many ifs in it. As it looks now, I would n't touch + it.” + </p> + <p> + I noticed, the other evening, that some private conversation was going on + between the Counsellor and the two Annexes. There was a mischievous look + about the little group, and I thought they were hatching some plot among + them. I did not hear what the English Annex said, but the American girl's + voice was sharper, and I overheard what sounded to me like, “It is time to + stir up that young Doctor.” The Counsellor looked very knowing, and said + that he would find a chance before long. I was rather amused to see how + readily he entered into the project of the young people. The fact is, the + Counsellor is young for his time of life; for he already betrays some + signs of the change referred to in that once familiar street song, which + my friend, the great American surgeon, inquired for at the music-shops + under the title, as he got it from the Italian minstrel, + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + “Silva tredi mondi goo.” + </pre> + <p> + I saw, soon after this, that the Counsellor was watching his chance to + “stir up the young Doctor.” + </p> + <p> + It does not follow, because our young Doctor's bald spot is slower in + coming than he could have wished, that he has not had time to form many + sound conclusions in the calling to which he has devoted himself Vesalius, + the father of modern descriptive anatomy, published his great work on that + subject before he was thirty. Bichat, the great anatomist and + physiologist, who died near the beginning of this century, published his + treatise, which made a revolution in anatomy and pathology, at about the + same age; dying soon after he had reached the age of thirty. So, possibly + the Counsellor may find that he has “stirred up” a young man who, can take + care of his own head, in case of aggressive movements in its direction. + </p> + <p> + “Well, Doctor,” the Counsellor began, “how are stocks in the measles + market about these times? Any corner in bronchitis? Any syndicate in the + vaccination business?” All this playfully. + </p> + <p> + “I can't say how it is with other people's patients; most of my families + are doing very well without my help, at this time.” + </p> + <p> + “Do tell me, Doctor, how many families you own. I have heard it said that + some of our fellow-citizens have two distinct families, but you speak as + if you had a dozen.” + </p> + <p> + “I have, but not so large a number as I should like. I could take care of + fifteen or twenty more without: having to work too hard.” + </p> + <p> + “Why, Doctor, you are as bad as a Mormon. What do you mean by calling + certain families yours?” + </p> + <p> + “Don't you speak about my client? Don't your clients call you their + lawyer? Does n't your baker, does n't your butcher, speak of the families + he supplies as his families?” + </p> + <p> + “To be sure, yes, of course they do; but I had a notion that a man had as + many doctors as he had organs to be doctored.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, there is some truth in that; but did you think the old-fashioned + family doctor was extinct, a fossil like the megatherium?” + </p> + <p> + “Why, yes, after the recent experience of a friend of mine, I did begin to + think that there would soon be no such personage left as that same + old-fashioned family doctor. Shall I tell you what that experience was?” + </p> + <p> + The young Doctor said he should be mightily pleased to hear it. He was + going to be one of those old-fogy practitioners himself. + </p> + <p> + “I don't know,” the Counsellor said, “whether my friend got all the + professional terms of his story correctly, nor whether I have got them + from him without making any mistakes; but if I do make blunders in some of + the queer names, you can correct me. This is my friend's story: + </p> + <p> + “My family doctor,” he said, “was a very sensible man, educated at a + school where they professed to teach all the specialties, but not + confining himself to any one branch of medical practice. Surgical practice + he did not profess to meddle with, and there were some classes of patients + whom he was willing to leave to the female physician. But throughout the + range of diseases not requiring exceptionally skilled manual interference, + his education had authorized him to consider himself, and he did consider + himself, qualified to undertake the treatment of all ordinary cases—It + so happened that my young wife was one of those uneasy persons who are + never long contented with their habitual comforts and blessings, but + always trying to find something a little better, something newer, at any + rate. I was getting to be near fifty years old, and it happened to me, as + it not rarely does to people at about that time of life, that my hair + began to fall out. I spoke of it to my doctor, who smiled, said it was a + part of the process of reversed evolution, but might be retarded a little, + and gave me a prescription. I did not find any great effect from it, and + my wife would have me go to a noted dermatologist. The distinguished + specialist examined my denuded scalp with great care. He looked at it + through a strong magnifier. He examined the bulb of a fallen hair in a + powerful microscope. He deliberated for a while, and then said, 'This is a + case of alopecia. It may perhaps be partially remedied. I will give you a + prescription.' Which he did, and told me to call again in a fortnight. At + the end of three months I had called six times, and each time got a new + recipe, and detected no difference in the course of my 'alopecia.' After I + had got through my treatment, I showed my recipes to my family physician; + and we found that three of them were the same he had used, familiar, + old-fashioned remedies, and the others were taken from a list of new and + little-tried prescriptions mentioned in one of the last medical journals, + which was lying on the old doctor's table. I might as well have got no + better under his charge, and should have got off much cheaper. + </p> + <p> + “The next trouble I had was a little redness of the eyes, for which my + doctor gave me a wash; but my wife would have it that I must see an + oculist. So I made four visits to an oculist, and at the last visit the + redness was nearly gone,—as it ought to have been by that time. The + specialist called my complaint conjunctivitis, but that did not make it + feel any better nor get well any quicker. If I had had a cataract or any + grave disease of the eye, requiring a nice operation on that delicate + organ, of course I should have properly sought the aid of an expert, whose + eye, hand, and judgment were trained to that special business; but in this + case I don't doubt that my family doctor would have done just as well as + the expert. However, I had to obey orders, and my wife would have it that + I should entrust my precious person only to the most skilful specialist in + each department of medical practice. + </p> + <p> + “In the course of the year I experienced a variety of slight + indispositions. For these I was auriscoped by an aurist, laryngoscoped by + a laryngologist, ausculted by a stethoscopist, and so on, until a complete + inventory of my organs was made out, and I found that if I believed all + these searching inquirers professed to have detected in my unfortunate + person, I could repeat with too literal truth the words of the General + Confession, 'And there is no health in us.' I never heard so many hard + names in all my life. I proved to be the subject of a long catalogue of + diseases, and what maladies I was not manifestly guilty of I was at least + suspected of harboring. I was handed along all the way from alopecia, + which used to be called baldness, to zoster, which used to be known as + shingles. I was the patient of more than a dozen specialists. Very + pleasant persons, many of them, but what a fuss they made about my + trifling incommodities! 'Please look at that photograph. See if there is a + minute elevation under one eye.' + </p> + <p> + “'On which side?' I asked him, for I could not be sure there was anything + different on one side from what I saw on the other. + </p> + <p> + “'Under the left eye. I called it a pimple; the specialist called it acne. + Now look at this photograph. It was taken after my acne had been three + months under treatment. It shows a little more distinctly than in the + first photograph, does n't it?' + </p> + <p> + “'I think it does,' I answered. 'It does n't seem to me that you gained a + great deal by leaving your customary adviser for the specialist.' + </p> + <p> + “'Well,' my friend continued, 'following my wife's urgent counsel, I kept + on, as I told you, for a whole year with my specialists, going from head + to foot, and tapering off with a chiropodist. I got a deal of amusement + out of their contrivances and experiments. Some of them lighted up my + internal surfaces with electrical or other illuminating apparatus. + Thermometers, dynamometers, exploring-tubes, little mirrors that went + half-way down to my stomach, tuning-forks, ophthalmoscopes, + percussion-hammers, single and double stethoscopes, speculums, + sphygmometers,—such a battery of detective instruments I had never + imagined. All useful, I don't doubt; but at the end of the year I began to + question whether I should n't have done about as well to stick to my long + tried practitioner. When the bills for 'professional services' came in, + and the new carpet had to be given up, and the old bonnet trimmed over + again, and the sealskin sack remained a vision, we both agreed, my wife + and I, that we would try to get along without consulting specialists, + except in such cases as our family physician considered to be beyond his + skill.'” + </p> + <p> + The Counsellor's story of his friend's experiences seemed to please the + young Doctor very much. It “stirred him up,” but in an agreeable way; for, + as he said, he meant to devote himself to family practice, and not to + adopt any limited class of cases as a specialty. I liked his views so well + that I should have been ready to adopt them as my own, if they had been + challenged. + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + The young Doctor discourses. +</pre> + <p> + “I am very glad,” he said, “that we have a number of practitioners among + us who confine themselves to the care of single organs and their + functions. I want to be able to consult an oculist who has done nothing + but attend to eyes long enough to know all that is known about their + diseases and their treatment,—skilful enough to be trusted with the + manipulation of that delicate and most precious organ. I want an aurist + who knows all about the ear and what can be done for its disorders. The + maladies of the larynx are very ticklish things to handle, and nobody + should be trusted to go behind the epiglottis who has not the tactus + eruditus. And so of certain other particular classes of complaints. A + great city must have a limited number of experts, each a final authority, + to be appealed to in cases where the family physician finds himself in + doubt. There are operations which no surgeon should be willing to + undertake unless he has paid a particular, if not an exclusive, attention + to the cases demanding such operations. All this I willingly grant. + </p> + <p> + “But it must not be supposed that we can return to the methods of the old + Egyptians—who, if my memory serves me correctly, had a special + physician for every part of the body—without falling into certain + errors and incurring certain liabilities. + </p> + <p> + “The specialist is much like other people engaged in lucrative business. + He is apt to magnify his calling, to make much of any symptom which will + bring a patient within range of his battery of remedies. I found a case in + one of our medical journals, a couple of years ago, which illustrates what + I mean. Dr. __________ of Philadelphia, had a female patient with a + crooked nose,—deviated septum, if our young scholars like that + better. She was suffering from what the doctor called reflex headache. She + had been to an oculist, who found that the trouble was in her eyes. She + went from him to a gynecologist, who considered her headache as owing to + causes for which his specialty had the remedies. How many more specialists + would have appropriated her, if she had gone the rounds of them all, I + dare not guess; but you remember the old story of the siege, in which each + artisan proposed means of defence which he himself was ready to furnish. + Then a shoemaker said, 'Hang your walls with new boots.' + </p> + <p> + “Human nature is the same with medical specialists as it was with ancient + cordwainers, and it is too possible that a hungry practitioner may be + warped by his interest in fastening on a patient who, as he persuades + himself, comes under his medical jurisdiction. The specialist has but one + fang with which to seize and bold his prey, but that fang is a fearfully + long and sharp canine. Being confined to a narrow field of observation and + practice, he is apt to give much of his time to curious study, which may + be magnifique, but is not exactly la guerre against the patient's malady. + He divides and subdivides, and gets many varieties of diseases, in most + respects similar. These he equips with new names, and thus we have those + terrific nomenclatures which are enough to frighten the medical student, + to say nothing of the sufferers staggering under this long catalogue of + local infirmities. The 'old-fogy' doctor, who knows the family tendencies + of his patient, who 'understands his constitution,' will often treat him + better than the famous specialist, who sees him for the first time, and + has to guess at many things 'the old doctor' knows from his previous + experience with the same patient and the family to which he belongs. + </p> + <p> + “It is a great luxury to practise as a specialist in almost any class of + diseases. The special practitioner has his own hours, hardly needs a + night-bell, can have his residence out of the town in which he exercises + his calling, in short, lives like a gentleman; while the hard-worked + general practitioner submits to a servitude more exacting than that of the + man who is employed in his stable or in his kitchen. That is the kind of + life I have made up my mind to.” + </p> + <p> + The teaspoons tinkled all round the table. This was the usual sign of + approbation, instead of the clapping of hands. + </p> + <p> + The young Doctor paused, and looked round among The Teacups. “I beg your + pardon,” he said, “for taking up so much of your time with medicine. It is + a subject that a good many persons, especially ladies, take an interest in + and have a curiosity about, but I have no right to turn this tea-table + into a lecture platform.” + </p> + <p> + “We should like to hear you talk longer about it,” said the English Annex. + “One of us has thought of devoting herself to the practice of medicine. + Would you lecture to us; if you were a professor in one of the great + medical schools?” + </p> + <p> + “Lecture to students of your sex? Why not, I should like to know? I don't + think it is the calling for which the average woman is especially adapted, + but my teacher got a part of his medical education from a lady, Madame + Lachapelle; and I don't see why, if one can learn from a woman, he may not + teach a woman, if he knows enough.” + </p> + <p> + “We all like a little medical talk now and then,” said Number Five, “and + we are much obliged to you for your discourse. You are specialist enough + to take care of a sprained ankle, I suppose, are you not?” + </p> + <p> + “I hope I should be equal to that emergency,” answered the young Doctor; + “but I trust you are not suffering from any such accident?” + </p> + <p> + “No,” said Number Five, “but there is no telling what may happen. I might + slip, and get a sprain or break a sinew, or something, and I should like + to know that there is a practitioner at hand to take care of my injury. I + think I would risk myself in your bands, although you are not a + specialist. Would you venture to take charge of the case?” + </p> + <p> + “Ah, my dear lady,” he answered gallantly, “the risk would be in the other + direction. I am afraid it would be safer for your doctor if he were an + older man than I am.” + </p> + <p> + This is the first clearly, indisputably sentimental outbreak which has + happened in conversation at our table. I tremble to think what will come + of it; for we have several inflammable elements in our circle, and a spark + like this is liable to light on any one or two of them. + </p> + <p> + I was not sorry that this medical episode came in to vary the usual course + of talk at our table. I like to have one—of an intelligent company, + who knows anything thoroughly, hold the floor for a time, and discourse + upon the subject which chiefly engages his daily thoughts and furnishes + his habitual occupation. It is a privilege to meet such a person now and + then, and let him have his full swing. But because there are + “professionals” to whom we are willing to listen as oracles, I do not want + to see everybody who is not a “professional” silenced or snubbed, if he + ventures into any field of knowledge which he has not made especially his + own. I like to read Montaigne's remarks about doctors, though he never + took a medical degree. I can even enjoy the truth in the sharp satire of + Voltaire on the medical profession. I frequently prefer the remarks I hear + from the pew after the sermon to those I have just been hearing from the + pulpit. There are a great many things which I never expect to comprehend, + but which I desire very much to apprehend. Suppose that our circle of + Teacups were made up of specialists,—experts in various departments. + I should be very willing that each one should have his innings at the + proper time, when the company were ready for him. But the time is coming + when everybody will know something about every thing. How can one have the + illustrated magazines, the “Popular Science Monthly,” the Psychological + journals, the theological periodicals, books on all subjects, forced on + his attention, in their own persons, so to speak, or in the reviews which + analyze and pass judgment upon them, without getting some ideas which + belong to many provinces of human intelligence? The air we breathe is made + up of four elements, at least: oxygen, nitrogen, carbonic acid gas, and + knowledge. There is something quite delightful to witness in the + absorption and devotion of a genuine specialist. There is a certain + sublimity in that picture of the dying scholar in Browning's “A + Grammarian's Funeral:”— + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + “So with the throttling hands of death at strife, + Ground he at grammar; + Still, through the rattle, parts of speech were rife; + While he could stammer + He settled Hoti's business—let it be— + Properly based Oun + Gave us the doctrine of the enclitic De, + Dead from the waist down.” + </pre> + <p> + A genuine enthusiasm, which will never be satisfied until it has pumped + the well dry at the bottom of which truth is lying, always excites our + interest, if not our admiration. + </p> + <p> + One of the pleasantest of our American writers, whom we all remember as Ik + Marvel, and greet in his more recent appearance as Donald Grant Mitchell, + speaks of the awkwardness which he feels in offering to the public a + “panoramic view of British writers in these days of specialists,—when + students devote half a lifetime to the analysis of the works of a single + author, and to the proper study of a single period.” + </p> + <p> + He need not have feared that his connected sketches of “English Lands, + Letters and Kings” would be any less welcome because they do not pretend + to fill up all the details or cover all the incidents they hint in vivid + outline. How many of us ever read or ever will read Drayton's + “Poly-Olbion?” Twenty thousand long Alexandrines are filled with admirable + descriptions of scenery, natural productions, and historical events, but + how many of us in these days have time to read and inwardly digest twenty + thousand Alexandrine verses? I fear that the specialist is apt to hold his + intelligent reader or hearer too cheap. So far as I have observed in + medical specialties, what he knows in addition to the knowledge of the + well-taught general practitioner is very largely curious rather than + important. Having exhausted all that is practical, the specialist is + naturally tempted to amuse himself with the natural history of the organ + or function he deals with; to feel as a writing-master does when he sets a + copy,—not content to shape the letters properly, but he must add + flourishes and fancy figures, to let off his spare energy. + </p> + <p> + I am beginning to be frightened. When I began these papers, my idea was a + very simple and innocent one. Here was a mixed company, of various + conditions, as I have already told my readers, who came together + regularly, and before they were aware of it formed something like a club + or association. As I was the patriarch among them, they gave me the name + some of you may need to be reminded of; for as these reports are published + at intervals, you may not remember the fact that I am what The Teacups + have seen fit to call The Dictator. + </p> + <p> + Now, what did I expect when I began these papers, and what is it that has + begun to frighten me? + </p> + <p> + I expected to report grave conversations and light colloquial passages of + arms among the members of the circle. I expected to hear, perhaps to read, + a paper now and then. I expected to have, from time to time, a poem from + some one of The Teacups, for I felt sure there must be among them one or + more poets,—Teacups of the finer and rarer translucent kind of + porcelain, to speak metaphorically. + </p> + <p> + Out of these conversations and written contributions I thought I might + make up a readable series of papers; a not wholly unwelcome string of + recollections, anticipations, suggestions, too often perhaps repetitions, + that would be to the twilight what my earlier series had been to the + morning. + </p> + <p> + I hoped also that I should come into personal relations with my old + constituency, if I may call my nearer friends, and those more distant ones + who belong to my reading parish, by that name. It is time that I should. I + received this blessed morning—I am telling the literal truth—a + highly flattering obituary of myself in the shape of an extract from “Le + National” of the 10th of February last. This is a bi-weekly newspaper, + published in French, in the city of Plattsburg, Clinton County, New York. + I am occasionally reminded by my unknown friends that I must hurry up + their autograph, or make haste to copy that poem they wish to have in the + author's own handwriting, or it will be too late; but I have never before + been huddled out of the world in this way. I take this rather premature + obituary as a hint that, unless I come to some arrangement with my + well-meaning but insatiable correspondents, it would be as well to leave + it in type, for I cannot bear much longer the load they lay upon me. I + will explain myself on this point after I have told my readers what has + frightened me. + </p> + <p> + I am beginning to think this room where we take our tea is more like a + tinder-box than a quiet and safe place for “a party in a parlor.” It is + true that there are at least two or three incombustibles at our table, but + it looks to me as if the company might pair off before the season is over, + like the crew of Her Majesty's ship the Mantelpiece,—three or four + weddings clear our whole table of all but one or two of the impregnables. + The poem we found in the sugar-bowl last week first opened my eyes to the + probable state of things. Now, the idea of having to tell a love-story,—perhaps + two or three love-stories,—when I set out with the intention of + repeating instructive, useful, or entertaining discussions, naturally + alarms me. It is quite true that many things which look to me suspicious + may be simply playful. Young people (and we have several such among The + Teacups) are fond of make-believe courting when they cannot have the real + thing,—“flirting,” as it used to be practised in the days of + Arcadian innocence, not the more modern and more questionable recreation + which has reached us from the home of the cicisbeo. Whatever comes of it, + I shall tell what I see, and take the consequences. + </p> + <p> + But I am at this moment going to talk in my own proper person to my own + particular public, which, as I find by my correspondence, is a very + considerable one, and with which I consider myself in exceptionally + pleasant relations. + </p> + <p> + I have read recently that Mr. Gladstone receives six hundred letters a + day. Perhaps he does not receive six hundred letters every day, but if he + gets anything like half that number daily, what can he do with them? There + was a time when he was said to answer all his correspondents. It is + understood, I think, that he has given up doing so in these later days. + </p> + <p> + I do not pretend that I receive six hundred or even sixty letters a day, + but I do receive a good many, and have told the public of the fact from + time to time, under the pressure of their constantly increasing exertions. + As it is extremely onerous, and is soon going to be impossible, for me to + keep up the wide range of correspondence which has become a large part of + my occupation, and tends to absorb all the vital force which is left me, I + wish to enter into a final explanation with the well-meaning but merciless + taskmasters who have now for many years been levying their daily tax upon + me. I have preserved thousands of their letters, and destroyed a very + large number, after answering most of them. A few interesting chapters + might be made out of the letters I have kept,—not only such as are + signed by the names of well-known personages, but many from unknown + friends, of whom I had never heard before and have never heard since. A + great deal of the best writing the languages of the world have ever known + has been committed to leaves that withered out of sight before a second + sunlight had fallen upon them. I have had many letters I should have liked + to give the public, had their nature admitted of their being offered to + the world. What straggles of young ambition, finding no place for its + energies, or feeling its incapacity to reach the ideal towards which it + was striving! What longings of disappointed, defeated fellow-mortals, + trying to find a new home for themselves in the heart of one whom they + have amiably idealized! And oh, what hopeless efforts of mediocrities and + inferiorities, believing in themselves as superiorities, and stumbling on + through limping disappointments to prostrate failure! Poverty comes + pleading, not for charity, for the most part, but imploring us to find a + purchaser for its unmarketable wares. The unreadable author particularly + requests us to make a critical examination of his book, and report to him + whatever may be our verdict,—as if he wanted anything but our + praise, and that very often to be used in his publisher's advertisements. + </p> + <p> + But what does not one have to submit to who has become the martyr—the + Saint Sebastian—of a literary correspondence! I will not dwell on + the possible impression produced on a sensitive nature by reading one's + own premature obituary, as I have told you has been my recent experience. + I will not stop to think whether the urgent request for an autograph by + return post, in view of the possible contingencies which might render it + the last one was ever to write, is pleasing or not. At threescore and + twenty one must expect such hints of what is like to happen before long. I + suppose, if some near friend were to watch one who was looking over such a + pressing letter, he might possibly see a slight shadow flit over the + reader's features, and some such dialogue might follow as that between + Othello and Iago, after “this honest creature” has been giving breath to + his suspicions about Desdemona: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + “I see this hath a little dash'd your spirits. + Not a jot, not a jot. + ............. + “My lord, I see you're moved.” + </pre> + <p> + And a little later the reader might, like Othello, complain, + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + “I have a pain upon my forehead here.” + </pre> + <p> + Nothing more likely. But, for myself, I have grown callous to all such + allusions. The repetition of the Scriptural phrase for the natural term of + life is so frequent that it wears out one's sensibilities. + </p> + <p> + But how many charming and refreshing letters I have received! How often I + have felt their encouragement in moments of doubt and depression, such as + the happiest temperaments must sometimes experience! + </p> + <p> + If the time comes when to answer all my kind unknown friends, even by + dictation, is impossible, or more than I feel equal to, I wish to refer + any of those who may feel disappointed at not receiving an answer to the + following general acknowledgments: + </p> + <p> + I. I am always grateful for any attention which shows me that I am kindly + remembered.—II. Your pleasant message has been read to me, and has + been thankfully listened to.—III. Your book (your essay) (your poem) + has reached me safely, and has received all the respectful attention to + which it seemed entitled. It would take more than all the time I have at + my disposal to read all the printed matter and all the manuscripts which + are sent to me, and you would not ask me to attempt the impossible. You + will not, therefore, expect me to express a critical opinion of your work.—IV. + I am deeply sensible to your expressions of personal attachment to me as + the author of certain writings which have brought me very near to you, in + virtue of some affinity in our ways of thought and moods of feeling. + Although I cannot keep up correspondences with many of my readers who seem + to be thoroughly congenial with myself, let them be assured that their + letters have been read or heard with peculiar gratification, and are + preserved as precious treasures. + </p> + <p> + I trust that after this notice no correspondent will be surprised to find + his or her letter thus answered by anticipation; and that if one of the + above formulae is the only answer he receives, the unknown friend will + remember that he or she is one of a great many whose incessant demands + have entirely outrun my power of answering them as fully as the applicants + might wish and perhaps expect. + </p> + <p> + I could make a very interesting volume of the letters I have received from + correspondents unknown to the world of authorship, but writing from an + instinctive impulse, which many of them say they have long felt and + resisted. One must not allow himself to be flattered into an overestimate + of his powers because he gets many letters expressing a peculiar + attraction towards his books, and a preference of them to those with which + he would not have dared to compare his own. Still, if the homo unius libri—the + man of one book—choose to select one of our own writing as his + favorite volume, it means something,—not much, perhaps; but if one + has unlocked the door to the secret entrance of one heart, it is not + unlikely that his key may fit the locks of others. What if nature has lent + him a master key? He has found the wards and slid back the bolt of one + lock; perhaps he may have learned the secret of others. One success is an + encouragement to try again. Let the writer of a truly loving letter, such + as greets one from time to time, remember that, though he never hears a + word from it, it may prove one of the best rewards of an anxious and + laborious past, and the stimulus of a still aspiring future. + </p> + <p> + Among the letters I have recently received, none is more interesting than + the following. The story of Helen Keller, who wrote it, is told in the + well-known illustrated magazine called “The Wide Awake,” in the number for + July, 1888. For the account of this little girl, now between nine and ten + years old, and other letters of her writing, I must refer to the article I + have mentioned. It is enough to say that she is deaf and dumb and totally + blind. She was seven years old when her teacher, Miss Sullivan, under the + direction of Mr. Anagnos, at the Blind Asylum at South Boston, began her + education. A child fuller of life and happiness it would be hard to find. + It seems as if her soul was flooded with light and filled with music that + had found entrance to it through avenues closed to other mortals. It is + hard to understand how she has learned to deal with abstract ideas, and so + far to supplement the blanks left by the senses of sight and hearing that + one would hardly think of her as wanting in any human faculty. Remember + Milton's pathetic picture of himself, suffering from only one of poor + little Helen's deprivations: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + “Not to me returns + Day, or the sweet approach of even or morn, + Or sight of vernal bloom, or summer's rose, + Or flocks, or herds, or human face divine; + But cloud instead, and ever-during dark + Surrounds me, from the cheerful ways of men + Cut off, and for the book of knowledge fair + Presented with a universal blank + Of Nature's works, to me expunged and rased, + And wisdom at one entrance quite shut out.” + </pre> + <p> + Surely for this loving and lovely child does + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + “the celestial Light + Shine inward.” + </pre> + <p> + Anthropologist, metaphysician, most of all theologian, here is a lesson + which can teach you much that you will not find in your primers and + catechisms. Why should I call her “poor little Helen”? Where can you find + a happier child? + </p> + <p> + SOUTH BOSTON, MASS., March 1, 1890. + </p> + <p> + DEAR KIND POET,—I have thought of you many times since that bright + Sunday when I bade you goodbye, and I am going to write you a letter + because I love you. I am sorry that you have no little children to play + with sometimes, but I think you are very happy with your books, and your + many, many friends. On Washington's Birthday a great many people came here + to see the little blind children, and I read for them from your poems, and + showed them some beautiful shells which came from a little island near + Palos. I am reading a very sad story called “Little Jakey.” Jakey was the + sweetest little fellow you can imagine, but he was poor and blind. I used + to think, when I was small and before I could read, that everybody was + always happy, and at first it made me very sad to know about pain and + great sorrow; but now I know that we could never learn to be brave and + patient, if there were only joy in the world. I am studying about insects + in Zoology, and I have learned many things about butterflies. They do not + make honey for us, like the bees, but many of them are as beautiful as the + flowers they light upon, and they always delight the hearts of little + children. They live a gay life, flitting from flower to flower, sipping + the drops of honey-dew, without a thought for the morrow. They are just + like little boys and girls when they forget books and studies, and run + away to the woods and the fields to gather wild-flowers, or wade in the + ponds for fragrant lilies, happy in the bright sunshine. If my little + sister comes to Boston next June, will you let me bring her to see you? + She is a lovely baby and I am sure you will love [her]. Now I must tell my + gentle poet good-bye, for I have a letter to write home before I go to + bed. From your loving little friend, HELEN A. KELLER. + </p> + <p> + The reading of this letter made many eyes glisten, and a dead silence + hushed the whole circle. All at once Delilah, our pretty table-maid, + forgot her place,—what business had she to be listening to our + conversation and reading?—and began sobbing, just as if she had been + a lady. She could n't help it, she explained afterwards,—she had a + little blind sister at the asylum, who had told her about Helen's reading + to the children. + </p> + <p> + It was very awkward, this breaking-down of our pretty Delilah, for one + girl crying will sometimes set off a whole row of others,—it is as + hazardous as lighting one cracker in a bunch. The two Annexes hurried out + their pocket-handkerchiefs, and I almost expected a semi-hysteric + cataclysm. At this critical moment Number Five called Delilah to her, + looked into her face with those calm eyes of hers, and spoke a few soft + words. Was Number Five forgetful, too? Did she not remember the difference + of their position? I suppose so. But she quieted the poor handmaiden as + simply and easily as a nursing mother quiets her unweaned baby. Why are we + not all in love with Number Five? Perhaps we are. At any rate, I suspect + the Professor. When we all get quiet, I will touch him up about that visit + she promised to make to his laboratory. + </p> + <p> + I got a chance at last to speak privately with him. + </p> + <p> + “Did Number Five go to meet you in your laboratory, as she talked of + doing?” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, yes, of course she did,—why, she said she would!” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, to be sure. Do tell me what she wanted in your laboratory.” + </p> + <p> + “She wanted me to burn a diamond for her.” + </p> + <p> + “Burn a diamond! What was that for? Because Cleopatra swallowed a pearl?” + </p> + <p> + “No, nothing of that kind. It was a small stone, and had a flaw in it. + Number Five said she did n't want a diamond with a flaw in it, and that + she did want to see how a diamond would burn.” + </p> + <p> + “Was that all that happened?” + </p> + <p> + “That was all. She brought the two Annexes with her, and I gave my three + visitors a lecture on carbon, which they seemed to enjoy very much.” + </p> + <p> + I looked steadily in the Professor's face during the reading of the + following poem. I saw no questionable look upon it,—but he has a + remarkable command of his features. Number Five read it with a certain + archness of expression, as if she saw all its meaning, which I think some + of the company did not quite take in. They said they must read it slowly + and carefully. Somehow, “I like you” and “I love you” got a little mixed, + as they heard it. It was not Number Five's fault, for she read it + beautifully, as we all agreed, and as I knew she would when I handed it to + her. + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + I LIKE YOU AND I LOVE YOU. + + I LIKE YOU met I LOVE YOU, face to face; + The path was narrow, and they could not pass. + I LIKE YOU smiled; I LOVE YOU cried, Alas! + And so they halted for a little space. + + “Turn thou and go before,” I LOVE YOU said, + “Down the green pathway, bright with many a flower + Deep in the valley, lo! my bridal bower + Awaits thee.” But I LIKE YOU shook his head. + + Then while they lingered on the span-wide shelf + That shaped a pathway round the rocky ledge, + I LIKE YOU bared his icy dagger's edge, + And first he slew I LOVE YOU,—then himself. +</pre> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0010" id="link2H_4_0010"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + VII + </h2> + <p> + There is no use in burdening my table with those letters of inquiry as to + where our meetings are held, and what are the names of the persons + designated by numbers, or spoken of under the titles of the Professor, the + Tutor, and so forth. It is enough that you are aware who I am, and that I + am known at the tea-table as The Dictator. Theatrical “asides” are apt to + be whispered in a pretty loud voice, and the persons who ought not to have + any idea of what is said are expected to be reasonably hard of bearing. If + I named all The Teacups, some of them might be offended. If any of my + readers happen to be able to identify any one Teacup by some accidental + circumstance,—say, for instance, Number Five, by the incident of her + burning the diamond,—I hope they will keep quiet about it. Number + Five does n't want to be pointed out in the street as the extravagant + person who makes use of such expensive fuel, for the story would soon grow + to a statement that she always uses diamonds, instead of cheaper forms of + carbon, to heat her coffee with. So with other members of the circle. The + “Cracked Teacup,” Number Seven, would not, perhaps, be pleased to + recognize himself under that title. I repeat it, therefore, Do not try to + identify the individual Teacups. You will not get them right; or, if you + do, you may too probably make trouble. How is it possible that I can keep + up my freedom of intercourse with you all if you insist on bellowing my + “asides” through a speaking-trumpet? Besides, you cannot have failed to + see that there are strong symptoms of the springing up of delicate + relations between some of our number. I told you how it would be. It did + not require a prophet to foresee that the saucy intruder who, as Mr. + Willis wrote, and the dear dead girls used to sing, in our young days, + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + “Taketh every form of air, + And every shape of earth, + And comes unbidden everywhere, + Like thought's mysterious birth,” + </pre> + <p> + would pop his little curly head up between one or more pairs of Teacups. + If you will stop these questions, then, I will go on with my reports of + what was said and done at our meetings over the teacups. + </p> + <p> + Of all things beautiful in this fair world, there is nothing so enchanting + to look upon, to dream about, as the first opening of the flower of young + love. How closely the calyx has hidden the glowing leaves in its quiet + green mantle! Side by side, two buds have been tossing jauntily in the + breeze, often brought very near to each other, sometimes touching for a + moment, with a secret thrill in their close-folded heart-leaves, it may + be, but still the cool green sepals shutting tight over the burning secret + within. All at once a morning ray touches one of the two buds, and the + point of a blushing petal betrays the imprisoned and swelling blossom. + </p> + <p> + —Oh, no, I did not promise a love-story. There may be a little + sentiment now and then, but these papers are devoted chiefly to the + opinions, prejudices, fancies, whims, of myself, The Dictator, and others + of The Teacups who have talked or written for the general benefit of the + company. + </p> + <p> + Here are some of the remarks I made the other evening on the subject of + Intellectual Over-Feeding and its consequence, Mental Dyspepsia. There is + something positively appalling in the amount of printed matter yearly, + monthly, weekly, daily, secreted by that great gland of the civilized + organism, the press. I need not dilate upon this point, for it is brought + home to every one of you who ever looks into a bookstore or a public + library. So large is the variety of literary products continually coming + forward, forced upon the attention of the reader by stimulating and + suggestive titles, commended to his notice by famous names, recasting old + subjects and developing and illustrating new ones, that the mind is liable + to be urged into a kind of unnatural hunger, leading to a repletion which + is often followed by disgust and disturbed nervous conditions as its + natural consequence. + </p> + <p> + It has long been a favorite rule with me, a rule which I have never lost + sight of, however imperfectly I have carried it out: Try to know enough of + a wide range of subjects to profit by the conversation of intelligent + persons of different callings and various intellectual gifts and + acquisitions. The cynic will paraphrase this into a shorter formula: Get a + smattering in every sort of knowledge. I must therefore add a second piece + of advice: Learn to hold as of small account the comments of the cynic. He + is often amusing, sometimes really witty, occasionally, without meaning + it, instructive; but his talk is to profitable conversation what the stone + is to the pulp of the peach, what the cob is to the kernels on an ear of + Indian corn. Once more: Do not be bullied out of your common sense by the + specialist; two to one, he is a pedant, with all his knowledge and + valuable qualities, and will “cavil on the ninth part of a hair,” if it + will give him a chance to show off his idle erudition. + </p> + <p> + I saw attributed to me, the other day, the saying, “Know something about + everything, and everything about something.” I am afraid it does not + belong to me, but I will treat it as I used to treat a stray boat which + came through my meadow, floating down the Housatonic,—get hold of it + and draw it ashore, and hold on to it until the owner turns up. If this + precept is used discreetly, it is very serviceable; but it is as well to + recognize the fact that you cannot know something about everything in days + like these of intellectual activity, of literary and scientific + production. We all feel this. It makes us nervous to see the shelves of + new books, many of which we feel as if we ought to read, and some among + them to study. We must adopt some principle of selection among the books + outside of any particular branch which we may have selected for study. I + have often been asked what books I would recommend for a course of + reading. I have always answered that I had a great deal rather take advice + than give it. Fortunately, a number of scholars have furnished lists of + books to which the inquirer may be directed. But the worst of it is that + each student is in need of a little library specially adapted to his + wants. Here is a young man writing to me from a Western college, and wants + me to send him a list of the books which I think would be most useful to + him. He does not send me his intellectual measurements, and he might as + well have sent to a Boston tailor for a coat, without any hint of his + dimensions in length, breadth, and thickness. + </p> + <p> + But instead of laying down rules for reading, and furnishing lists of the + books which should be read in order, I will undertake the much humbler + task of giving a little quasi-medical advice to persons, young or old, + suffering from book-hunger, book-surfeit, book-nervousness, + book-indigestion, book-nausea, and all other maladies which, directly or + indirectly, may be traced to books, and to which I could give Greek or + Latin names if I thought it worth while. + </p> + <p> + I have a picture hanging in my library, a lithograph, of which many of my + readers may have seen copies. It represents a gray-haired old book-lover + at the top of a long flight of steps. He finds himself in clover, so to + speak, among rare old editions, books he has longed to look upon and never + seen before, rarities, precious old volumes, incunabula, cradle-books, + printed while the art was in its infancy,—its glorious infancy, for + it was born a giant. The old bookworm is so intoxicated with the sight and + handling of the priceless treasures that he cannot bear to put one of the + volumes back after he has taken it from the shelf. So there he stands,—one + book open in his hands, a volume under each arm, and one or more between + his legs,—loaded with as many as he can possibly hold at the same + time. + </p> + <p> + Now, that is just the way in which the extreme form of book-hunger shows + itself in the reader whose appetite has become over-developed. He wants to + read so many books that he over-crams himself with the crude materials of + knowledge, which become knowledge only when the mental digestion has time + to assimilate them. I never can go into that famous “Corner Bookstore” and + look over the new books in the row before me, as I enter the door, without + seeing half a dozen which I want to read, or at least to know something + about. I cannot empty my purse of its contents, and crowd my bookshelves + with all those volumes. The titles of many of them interest me. I look + into one or two, perhaps. I have sometimes picked up a line or a sentence, + in these momentary glances between the uncut leaves of a new book, which I + have never forgotten. As a trivial but bona fide example, one day I opened + a book on duelling. I remember only these words: “Conservons-la, cette + noble institution.” I had never before seen duelling called a noble + institution, and I wish I had taken the name of the book. Book-tasting is + not necessarily profitless, but it is very stimulating, and makes one + hungry for more than he needs for the nourishment of his thinking-marrow. + To feed this insatiable hunger, the abstracts, the reviews, do their best. + But these, again, have grown so numerous and so crowded with matter that + it is hard to find time to master their contents. We are accustomed, + therefore, to look for analyses of these periodicals, and at last we have + placed before us a formidable-looking monthly, “The Review of Reviews.” + After the analyses comes the newspaper notice; and there is still room for + the epigram, which sometimes makes short work with all that has gone + before on the same subject. + </p> + <p> + It is just as well to recognize the fact that if one should read day and + night, confining himself to his own language, he could not pretend to keep + up with the press. He might as well try to race with a locomotive. The + first discipline, therefore, is that of despair. If you could stick to + your reading day and night for fifty years, what a learned idiot you would + become long before the half-century was over! Well, then, there is no use + in gorging one's self with knowledge, and no need of self-reproach because + one is content to remain more or less ignorant of many things which + interest his fellow-creatures. We gain a good deal of knowledge through + the atmosphere; we learn a great deal by accidental hearsay, provided we + have the mordant in our own consciousness which makes the wise remark, the + significant fact, the instructive incident, take hold upon it. After the + stage of despair comes the period of consolation. We soon find that we are + not so much worse off than most of our neighbors as we supposed. The + fractional value of the wisest shows a small numerator divided by an + infinite denominator of knowledge. + </p> + <p> + I made some explanations to The Teacups, the other evening, which they + received very intelligently and graciously, as I have no doubt the readers + of these reports of mine will receive them. If the reader will turn back + to the end of the fourth number of these papers, he will find certain + lines entitled, “Cacoethes Scribendi.” They were said to have been taken + from the usual receptacle of the verses which are contributed by The + Teacups, and, though the fact was not mentioned, were of my own + composition. I found them in manuscript in my drawer, and as my subject + had naturally suggested the train of thought they carried out into + extravagance, I printed them. At the same time they sounded very natural, + as we say, and I felt as if I had published them somewhere or other + before; but I could find no evidence of it, and so I ventured to have them + put in type. + </p> + <p> + And here I wish to take breath for a short, separate paragraph. I have + often felt, after writing a line which pleased me more than common, that + it was not new, and perhaps was not my own. I have very rarely, however, + found such a coincidence in ideas or expression as would be enough to + justify an accusation of unconscious plagiarism,—conscious + plagiarism is not my particular failing. I therefore say my say, set down + my thought, print my line, and do not heed the suspicion that I may not be + as original as I supposed, in the passage I have been writing. My + experience may be worth something to a modest young writer, and so I have + interrupted what I was about to say by intercalating this paragraph. + </p> + <p> + In this instance my telltale suspicion had not been at fault. I had + printed those same lines, years ago, in “The Contributors' Club,” to which + I have rarely sent any of my prose or verse. Nobody but the editor has + noticed the fact, so far as I know. This is consoling, or mortifying, I + hardly know which. I suppose one has a right to plagiarize from himself, + but he does not want to present his work as fresh from the workshop when + it has been long standing in his neighbor's shop-window. + </p> + <p> + But I have just received a letter from a brother of the late Henry Howard + Brownell, the poet of the Bay Fight and the River Fight, in which he + quotes a passage from an old book, “A Heroine, Adventures of Cherubina,” + which might well have suggested my own lines, if I had ever seen it. I + have not the slightest recollection of the book or the passage. I think + its liveliness and “local color” will make it please the reader, as it + pleases me, more than my own more prosaic extravagances: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + LINES TO A PRETTY LITTLE MAID OF MAMMA'S. + + “If Black Sea, Red Sea, White Sea, ran + One tide of ink to Ispahan, + If all the geese in Lincoln fens + Produced spontaneous well-made pens, + If Holland old and Holland new + One wondrous sheet of paper grew, + And could I sing but half the grace + Of half a freckle in thy face, + Each syllable I wrote would reach + From Inverness to Bognor's beach, + Each hair-stroke be a river Rhine, + Each verse an equinoctial line!” + </pre> + <p> + “The immediate dismissal of the 'little maid' was the consequence.” + </p> + <p> + I may as well say that our Delilah was not in the room when the last + sentence was read. + </p> + <p> + Readers must be either very good-natured or very careless. I have laid + myself open to criticism by more than one piece of negligence, which has + been passed over without invidious comment by the readers of my papers. + How could I, for instance, have written in my original “copy” for the + printer about the fisherman baiting his hook with a giant's tail instead + of a dragon's? It is the automatic fellow,—Me—Number-Two of + our dual personality,—who does these things, who forgets the message + Me—Number—One sends down to him from the cerebral + convolutions, and substitutes a wrong word for the right one. I suppose Me—Number—Two + will “sass back,” and swear that “giant's” was the message which came down + from headquarters. He is always doing the wrong thing and excusing + himself. Who blows out the gas instead of shutting it off? Who puts the + key in the desk and fastens it tight with the spring lock? Do you mean to + say that the upper Me, the Me of the true thinking-marrow, the + convolutions of the brain, does not know better? Of course he does, and + Me-Number-Two is a careless servant, who remembers some old direction, and + follows that instead of the one just given. + </p> + <p> + Number Seven demurred to this, and I am not sure that he is wrong in so + doing. He maintains that the automatic fellow always does just what he is + told to do. Number Five is disposed to agree with him. We will talk over + the question. + </p> + <p> + But come, now, why should not a giant have a tail as well as a dragon? + Linnaeus admitted the homo caudatus into his anthropological catalogue. + The human embryo has a very well marked caudal appendage; that is, the + vertebral column appears prolonged, just as it is in a young quadruped. + During the late session of the Medical Congress at Washington, my friend + Dr. Priestley, a distinguished London physician, of the highest character + and standing, showed me the photograph of a small boy, some three or four + years old, who had a very respectable little tail, which would have passed + muster on a pig, and would have made a frog or a toad ashamed of himself. + I have never heard what became of the little boy, nor have I looked in the + books or journals to find out if there are similar cases on record, but I + have no doubt that there are others. And if boys may have this additional + ornament to their vertebral columns, why not men? And if men, why not + giants? So I may not have made a very bad blunder, after all, and my + reader has learned something about the homo caudatus as spoken of by + Linnxus, and as shown me in photograph by Dr. Priestley. This child is a + candidate for the vacant place of Missing Link. + </p> + <p> + In accounting for the blunders, and even gross blunders, which, sooner or + later, one who writes much is pretty sure to commit, I must not forget the + part played by the blind spot or idiotic area in the brain, which I have + already described. + </p> + <p> + The most knowing persons we meet with are sometimes at fault. Nova onania + possumus omnes is not a new nor profound axiom, but it is well to remember + it as a counterpoise to that other truly American saying of the late Mr. + Samuel Patch, “Some things can be done as well as others.” Yes, some + things, but not all things. We all know men and women who hate to admit + their ignorance of anything. Like Talkative in “Pilgrim's Progress,” they + are ready to converse of “things heavenly or things earthly; things moral + or things evangelical; things sacred or things profane; things past or + things to come; things foreign or things at home; things more essential or + things circumstantial.” + </p> + <p> + Talkative is apt to be a shallow fellow, and to say foolish things about + matters he only half understands, and yet he has his place in society. The + specialists would grow to be intolerable, were they not counterpoised to + some degree by the people of general intelligence. The man who knows too + much about one particular subject is liable to become a terrible social + infliction. Some of the worst bores (to use plain language) we ever meet + with are recognized as experts of high grade in their respective + departments. Beware of making so much as a pinhole in the dam that holds + back their knowledge. They ride their hobbies without bit or bridle. A + poet on Pegasus, reciting his own verses, is hardly more to be dreaded + than a mounted specialist. + </p> + <p> + One of the best offices which women perform for men is that of tasting + books for them. They may or may not be profound students,—some of + them are; but we do not expect to meet women like Mrs. Somerville, or + Caroline Herschel, or Maria Mitchell at every dinner-table or afternoon + tea. But give your elect lady a pile of books to look over for you, and + she will tell you what they have for her and for you in less time than you + would have wasted in stupefying yourself over a single volume. + </p> + <p> + One of the encouraging signs of the times is the condensed and abbreviated + form in which knowledge is presented to the general reader. The short + biographies of historic personages, of which within the past few years + many have been published, have been a great relief to the large class of + readers who want to know something, but not too much, about them. + </p> + <p> + What refuge is there for the victim who is oppressed with the feeling that + there are a thousand new books he ought to read, while life is only long + enough for him to attempt to read a hundred? Many readers remember what + old Rogers, the poet, said: + </p> + <p> + “When I hear a new book talked about or have it pressed upon me, I read an + old one.” + </p> + <p> + Happy the man who finds his rest in the pages of some favorite classic! I + know no reader more to be envied than that friend of mine who for many + years has given his days and nights to the loving study of Horace. After a + certain period in life, it is always with an effort that we admit a new + author into the inner circle of our intimates. The Parisian omnibuses, as + I remember them half a century ago,—they may still keep to the same + habit, for aught that I know,—used to put up the sign “Complet” as + soon as they were full. Our public conveyances are never full until the + natural atmospheric pressure of sixteen pounds to the square inch is + doubled, in the close packing of the human sardines that fill the + all-accommodating vehicles. A new-comer, however well mannered and well + dressed, is not very welcome under these circumstances. In the same way, + our tables are full of books half-read and books we feel that we must + read. And here come in two thick volumes, with uncut leaves, in small + type, with many pages, and many lines to a page,—a book that must be + read and ought to be read at once. What a relief to hand it over to the + lovely keeper of your literary conscience, who will tell you all that you + will most care to know about it, and leave you free to plunge into your + beloved volume, in which you are ever finding new beauties, and from which + you rise refreshed, as if you had just come from the cool waters of + Hippocrene! The stream of modern literature represented by the books and + periodicals on the crowded counters is a turbulent and clamorous torrent, + dashing along among the rocks of criticism, over the pebbles of the + world's daily events; trying to make itself seen and heard amidst the + hoarse cries of the politicians and the rumbling wheels of traffic. The + classic is a still lakelet, a mountain tarn, fed by springs that never + fail, its surface never ruffled by storms,—always the same, always + smiling a welcome to its visitor. Such is Horace to my friend. To his eye + “Lydia, dic per omnes” is as familiar as “Pater noster qui es in caelis” + to that of a pious Catholic. “Integer vitae,” which he has put into manly + English, his Horace opens to as Watt's hymn-book opens to “From all that + dwell below the skies.” The more he reads, the more he studies his author, + the richer are the treasures he finds. And what Horace is to him, Homer, + or Virgil, or Dante is to many a quiet reader, sick to death of the + unending train of bookmakers. + </p> + <p> + I have some curious books in my library, a few of which I should like to + say something about to The Teacups, when they have no more immediately + pressing subjects before them. A library of a few thousand volumes ought + always to have some books in it which the owner almost never opens, yet + with whose backs he is so well acquainted that he feels as if he knew + something of their contents. They are like those persons whom we meet in + our daily walks, with whose faces and figures, whose summer and winter + garments, whose walking-sticks and umbrellas even, we feel acquainted, and + yet whose names, whose business, whose residences, we know nothing about. + Some of these books are so formidable in their dimensions, so rusty and + crabbed in their aspect, that it takes a considerable amount of courage to + attack them. + </p> + <p> + I will ask Delilah to bring down from my library a very thick, stout + volume, bound in parchment, and standing on the lower shelf, next the + fireplace. The pretty handmaid knows my books almost as if she were my + librarian, and I don't doubt she would have found it if I had given only + the name on the back. + </p> + <p> + Delilah returned presently, with the heavy quarto in her arms. It was a + pleasing sight,—the old book in the embrace of the fresh young + damsel. I felt, on looking at them, as I did when I followed the slip of a + girl who conducted us in the Temple, that ancient building in the heart of + London. The long-enduring monuments of the dead do so mock the fleeting + presence of the living! + </p> + <p> + Is n't this book enough to scare any of you? I said, as Delilah dumped it + down upon the table. The teacups jumped from their saucers as it thumped + on the board. Danielis Georgii Morhofii Polyhistor, Literarius, + Philosophicus et Poeticus. Lubecae MDCCXXXIII. Perhaps I should not have + ventured to ask you to look at this old volume, if it had not been for the + fact that Dr. Johnson mentions Morohof as the author to whom he was + specially indebted.—more, I think, than to any other. It is a grand + old encyclopaedic summary of all the author knew about pretty nearly + everything, full of curious interest, but so strangely mediaeval, so + utterly antiquated in most departments of knowledge, that it is hard to + believe the volume came from the press at a time when persons whom I well + remember were living. Is it possible that the books which have been for me + what Morhof was for Dr. Johnson can look like that to the student of the + year 1990? + </p> + <p> + Morhof was a believer in magic and the transmutation of metals. There was + always something fascinating to me in the old books of alchemy. I have + felt that the poetry of science lost its wings when the last powder of + projection had been cast into the crucible, and the fire of the last + transmutation furnace went out. Perhaps I am wrong in implying that + alchemy is an extinct folly. It existed in New England's early days, as we + learn from the Winthrop papers, and I see no reason why gold-making should + not have its votaries as well as other popular delusions. + </p> + <p> + Among the essays of Morhof is one on the “Paradoxes of the Senses.” That + title brought to mind the recollection of another work I have been meaning + to say something about, at some time when you were in the listening mood. + The book I refer to is “A Budget of Paradoxes,” by Augustus De Morgan. De + Morgan is well remembered as a very distinguished mathematician, whose + works have kept his name in high honor to the present time. The book I am + speaking of was published by his widow, and is largely made up of letters + received by him and his comments upon them. Few persons ever read it + through. Few intelligent readers ever took it up and laid it down without + taking a long draught of its singular and interesting contents. The + letters are mostly from that class of persons whom we call “cranks,” in + our familiar language. + </p> + <p> + At this point Number Seven interrupted me by calling out, “Give us some of + those cranks' letters. A crank is a man who does his own thinking. I had a + relation who was called a crank. I believe I have been spoken of as one + myself. That is what you have to expect if you invent anything that puts + an old machine out of fashion, or solve a problem that has puzzled all the + world up to your time. There never was a religion founded but its Messiah + was called a crank. There never was an idea started that woke up men out + of their stupid indifference but its originator was spoken of as a crank. + Do you want to know why that name is given to the men who do most for the + world's progress? I will tell you. It is because cranks make all the + wheels in all the machinery of the world go round. What would a + steam-engine be without a crank? I suppose the first fool that looked on + the first crank that was ever made asked what that crooked, queer-looking + thing was good for. When the wheels got moving he found out. Tell us + something about that book which has so much to say concerning cranks.” + </p> + <p> + Hereupon I requested Delilah to carry back Morhof, and replace him in the + wide gap he had left in the bookshelf. She was then to find and bring down + the volume I had been speaking of. + </p> + <p> + Delilah took the wisdom of the seventeenth century in her arms, and + departed on her errand. The book she brought down was given me some years + ago by a gentleman who had sagaciously foreseen that it was just one of + those works which I might hesitate about buying, but should be well + pleased to own. He guessed well; the book has been a great source of + instruction and entertainment to me. I wonder that so much time and cost + should have been expended upon a work which might have borne a title like + the Encomium Moriae of Erasmus; and yet it is such a wonderful museum of + the productions of the squinting brains belonging to the class of persons + commonly known as cranks that we could hardly spare one of its five + hundred octavo pages. + </p> + <p> + Those of us who are in the habit of receiving letters from all sorts of + would-be-literary people—letters of inquiry, many of them with + reference to matters we are supposed to understand—can readily see + how it was that Mr. De Morgan, never too busy to be good-natured with the + people who pestered—or amused-him with their queer fancies, received + such a number of letters from persons who thought they had made great + discoveries, from those who felt that they and their inventions and + contrivances had been overlooked, and who sought in his large charity of + disposition and great receptiveness a balm for their wounded feelings and + a ray of hope for their darkened prospects. + </p> + <p> + The book before us is made up from papers published in “The Athenaeum,” + with additions by the author. Soon after opening it we come to names with + which we are familiar, the first of these, that of Cornelius Agrippa, + being connected with the occult and mystic doctrines dealt with by many of + De Morgan's correspondents. But the name most likely to arrest us is that + of Giordano Bruno, the same philosopher, heretic, and martyr whose statue + has recently been erected in Rome, to the great horror of the Pope and his + prelates in the Old World and in the New. De Morgan's pithy account of him + will interest the company: “Giordano Bruno was all paradox. He was, as has + been said, a vorticist before Descartes, an optimist before Leibnitz, a + Copernican before Galileo. It would be easy to collect a hundred strange + opinions of his. He was born about 1550, and was roasted alive at Rome, + February 17, 1600, for the maintenance and defence of the Holy Church, and + the rights and liberties of the same.” + </p> + <p> + Number Seven could not contain himself when the reading had reached this + point. He rose from his chair, and tinkled his spoon against the side of + his teacup. It may have been a fancy, but I thought it returned a sound + which Mr. Richard Briggs would have recognized as implying an organic + defect. But Number Seven did not seem to notice it, or, if he did, to mind + it. + </p> + <p> + “Why did n't we all have a chance to help erect that statue?” he cried. “A + murdered heretic at the beginning of the seventeenth century, a hero of + knowledge in the nineteenth,—I drink to the memory of the roasted + crank, Giordano Bruno!” + </p> + <p> + Number Seven lifted his teacup to his lips, and most of us followed his + example. + </p> + <p> + After this outburst of emotion and eloquence had subsided, and the + teaspoons lay quietly in their saucers, I went on with my extract from the + book I had in hand. + </p> + <p> + I think, I said, that the passage which follows will be new and + instructive to most of the company. De Morgan's interpretation of the + cabalistic sentence, made up as you will find it, is about as ingenious a + piece of fanciful exposition as you will be likely to meet with anywhere + in any book, new or old. I am the more willing to mention it as it + suggests a puzzle which some of the company may like to work upon. Observe + the character and position of the two distinguished philosophers who did + not think their time thrown away in laboring at this seemingly puerile + task. + </p> + <p> + “There is a kind of Cabbala Alphabetica which the investigators of the + numerals in words would do well to take up; it is the formation of + sentences which contain all the letters of the alphabet, and each only + once. No one has done it with v and j treated as consonants; but you and I + can do it. Dr. Whewell and I amused ourselves some years ago with + attempts. He could not make sense, though he joined words he gave me Phiz, + styx, wrong, buck, flame, quiz. + </p> + <p> + “I gave him the following, which he agreed was 'admirable sense,'—I + certainly think the words would never have come together except in this + way: I quartz pyx who fling muck beds. I long thought that no human being + could say this under any circumstances. At last I happened to be reading a + religious writer,—as he thought himself,—who threw aspersions + on his opponents thick and threefold. Heyday came into my head; this + fellow flings muck beds; he must be a quartz pyx. And then I remembered + that a pyx is a sacred vessel, and quartz is a hard stone, as hard as the + heart of a religious foe-curser. So that the line is the motto of the + ferocious sectarian who turns his religious vessels into mud-holders, for + the benefit of those who will not see what he sees.” + </p> + <p> + “There are several other sentences given, in which all the letters (except + v and j as consonants) are employed, of which the following is the best: + Get nymph; quiz sad brow; fix luck,—which in more sober English + would be, Marry; be cheerful; watch your business. There is more + edification, more religion, in this than in all the 666 interpretations + put together.” + </p> + <p> + There is something very pleasant in the thought of these two sages playing + at jackstraws with the letters of the alphabet. The task which De Morgan + and Dr. Whewell, “the omniscient,” set themselves would not be unworthy of + our own ingenious scholars, and it might be worth while for some one of + our popular periodicals to offer a prize for the best sentence using up + the whole alphabet, under the same conditions as those submitted to by our + two philosophers. + </p> + <p> + This whole book of De Morgan's seems to me full of instruction. There is + too much of it, no doubt; yet one can put up with the redundancy for the + sake of the multiplicity of shades of credulity and self-deception it + displays in broad daylight. I suspect many of us are conscious of a second + personality in our complex nature, which has many traits resembling those + found in the writers of the letters addressed to Mr. De Horgan. + </p> + <p> + I have not ventured very often nor very deeply into the field of + metaphysics, but if I were disposed to make any claim in that direction, + it would be the recognition of the squinting brain, the introduction of + the term “cerebricity” corresponding to electricity, the idiotic area in + the brain or thinking-marrow, and my studies of the second member in the + partnership of I-My-Self & Co. I add the Co. with especial reference + to a very interesting article in a late Scribner, by my friend Mr. William + James. In this article the reader will find a full exposition of the + doctrine of plural personality illustrated by striking cases. I have long + ago noticed and referred to the fact of the stratification of the currents + of thought in three layers, one over the other. I have recognized that + where there are two individuals talking together there are really six + personalities engaged in the conversation. But the distinct, separable, + independent individualities, taking up conscious life one after the other, + are brought out by Mr. James and the authorities to which he refers as I + have not elsewhere seen them developed. + </p> + <p> + Whether we shall ever find the exact position of the idiotic centre or + area in the brain (if such a spot exists) is uncertain. We know exactly + where the blind spot of the eye is situated, and can demonstrate it + anatomically and physiologically. But we have only analogy to lead us to + infer the possible or even probable existence of an insensible spot in the + thinking-centre. If there is a focal point where consciousness is at its + highest development, it would not be strange if near by there should prove + to be an anaesthetic district or limited space where no report from the + senses was intelligently interpreted. But all this is mere hypothesis. + </p> + <p> + Notwithstanding the fact that I am nominally the head personage of the + circle of Teacups, I do not pretend or wish to deny that we all look to + Number Five as our chief adviser in all the literary questions that come + before us. She reads more and better than any of us. She is always ready + to welcome the first sign of genius, or of talent which approaches genius. + She makes short work with all the pretenders whose only excuse for + appealing to the public is that they “want to be famous.” She is one of + the very few persons to whom I am willing to read any one of my own + productions while it is yet in manuscript, unpublished. I know she is + disposed to make more of it than it deserves; but, on the other hand, + there are degrees in her scale of judgment, and I can distinguish very + easily what delights her from what pleases only, or is, except for her + kindly feeling to the writer, indifferent, or open to severe comment. What + is curious is that she seems to have no literary aspirations, no desire to + be known as a writer. Yet Number Five has more esprit, more sparkle, more + sense in her talk, than many a famous authoress from whom we should expect + brilliant conversation. + </p> + <p> + There are mysteries about Number Five. I am not going to describe her + personally. Whether she belongs naturally among the bright young people, + or in the company of the maturer persons, who have had a good deal of + experience of the world, and have reached the wisdom of the riper decades + without losing the graces of the earlier ones, it would be hard to say. + The men and women, young and old, who throng about her forget their own + ages. “There is no such thing as time in her presence,” said the + Professor, the other day, in speaking of her. Whether the Professor is in + love with her or not is more than I can say, but I am sure that he goes to + her for literary sympathy and counsel, just as I do. The reader may + remember what Number Five said about the possibility of her getting a + sprained ankle, and her asking the young Doctor whether he felt equal to + taking charge of her if she did. I would not for the world insinuate that + he wishes she would slip and twist her foot a little,—just a little, + you know, but so that it would have to be laid on a pillow in a chair, and + inspected, and bandaged, and delicately manipulated. There was a + banana-skin which she might naturally have trodden on, in her way to the + tea-table. Nobody can suppose that it was there except by the most + innocent of accidents. There are people who will suspect everybody. The + idea of the Doctor's putting that banana-skin there! People love to talk + in that silly way about doctors. + </p> + <p> + Number Five had promised to read us a narrative which she thought would + interest some of the company. Who wrote it she did not tell us, but I + inferred from various circumstances that she had known the writer. She + read the story most effectively in her rich, musical voice. I noticed that + when it came to the sounds of the striking clock, the ringing of the notes + was so like that which reaches us from some far-off cathedral tower that + we wanted to bow our heads, as if we had just heard a summons to the + Angelus. This was the short story that Number Five read to The Teacups:— + </p> + <p> + I have somewhere read this anecdote. Louis the Fourteenth was looking out, + one day, from, a window of his palace of Saint-Germain. It was a beautiful + landscape which spread out before him, and the monarch, exulting in + health, strength, and the splendors of his exalted position, felt his + bosom swell with emotions of pride and happiness: Presently he noticed the + towers of a church in the distance, above the treetops. “What building is + that?” he asked. “May it please your Majesty, that is the Church of St. + Denis, where your royal ancestors have been buried for many generations.” + The answer did not “please his Royal Majesty.” There, then, was the place + where he too was to lie and moulder in the dust. He turned, sick at heart, + from the window, and was uneasy until he had built him another palace, + from which he could never be appalled by that fatal prospect. + </p> + <p> + Something like the experience of Louis the Fourteenth was that of the + owner of + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + THE TERRIBLE CLOCK. +</pre> + <p> + I give the story as transcribed from the original manuscript:— + </p> + <p> + The clock was bequeathed to me by an old friend who had recently died. His + mind had been a good deal disordered in the later period of his life. This + clock, I am told; seemed to have a strange fascination for him. His eyes + were fastened on it during the last hours of his life. He died just at + midnight. The clock struck twelve, the nurse told me, as he drew his last + breath, and then, without any known cause, stopped, with both hands upon + the hour. + </p> + <p> + It is a complex and costly piece of mechanism. The escapement is in front, + so that every tooth is seen as it frees itself. It shows the phases of the + moon, the month of the year, the day of the month, and the day of the + week, as well as the hour and minute of the day. + </p> + <p> + I had not owned it a week before I began to perceive the same kind of + fascination as that which its former owner had experienced. This gradually + grew upon me, and presently led to trains of thought which became at first + unwelcome, then worrying, and at last unendurable. I began by taking + offence at the moon. I did not like to see that “something large and + smooth and round,” so like the skull which little Peterkin picked up on + the field of Blenheim. “How many times,” I kept saying to myself, “is that + wicked old moon coming up to stare at me?” I could not stand it. I stopped + a part of the machinery, and the moon went into permanent eclipse. By and + by the sounds of the infernal machine began to trouble and pursue me. They + talked to me; more and more their language became that of articulately + speaking men. They twitted me with the rapid flight of time. They hurried + me, as if I had not a moment to lose. Quick! Quick! Quick! as each tooth + released itself from the escapement. And as I looked and listened there + could not be any mistake about it. I heard Quick! Quick! Quick! as + plainly, at least, as I ever heard a word from the phonograph. I stood + watching the dial one day,—it was near one o'clock,—and a + strange attraction held me fastened to the spot. Presently something + appeared to trip or stumble inside of the infernal mechanism. I waited for + the sound I knew was to follow. How nervous I got! It seemed to me that it + would never strike. At last the minute-hand reached the highest point of + the dial. Then there was a little stir among the works, as there is in a + congregation as it rises to receive the benediction. It was no form of + blessing which rung out those deep, almost sepulchral tones. But the word + they uttered could not be mistaken. I can hear its prolonged, solemn + vibrations as if I were standing before the clock at this moment. + </p> + <p> + Gone! Yes, I said to myself, gone,—its record made up to be opened + in eternity. + </p> + <p> + I stood still, staring vaguely at the dial as in a trance. And as the next + hour creeps stealthily up, it starts all at once, and cries aloud, Gone!—Gone! + The sun sinks lower, the hour-hand creeps downward with it, until I hear + the thrice-repeated monosyllable, Gone!—Gone!—Gone! Soon + through the darkening hours, until at the dead of night the long roll is + called, and with the last Gone! the latest of the long procession that + filled the day follows its ghostly companions into the stillness and + darkness of the past. + </p> + <p> + I silenced the striking part of the works. Still, the escapement kept + repeating, Quick! Quick! Quick! Still the long minute-hand, like the dart + in the grasp of Death, as we see it in Roubiliac's monument to Mrs. + Nightingale, among the tombs of Westminster Abbey, stretched itself out, + ready to transfix each hour as it passed, and make it my last. I sat by + the clock to watch the leap from one day of the week to the next. Then + would come, in natural order, the long stride from one month to the + following one. + </p> + <p> + I could endure it no longer. “Take that clock away!” I said. They took it + away. They took me away, too,—they thought I needed country air. The + sounds and motions still pursued me in imagination. I was very nervous + when I came here. The walks are pleasant, but the walls seem to me + unnecessarily high. The boarders are numerous; a little miscellaneous, I + think. But we have the Queen, and the President of the United States, and + several other distinguished persons, if we may trust what they tell about + themselves. + </p> + <p> + After we had listened to Number Five's story, I was requested to read a + couple of verses written by me when the guest of my friends, whose name is + hinted by the title prefixed to my lines. + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + LA MAISON D'OR. + + BAR HARBOR. + + From this fair home behold on either side + The restful mountains or the restless sea: + So the warm sheltering walls of life divide + Time and its tides from still eternity. + + Look on the waves: their stormy voices teach + That not on earth may toil and struggle cease. + Look on the mountains: better far than speech + Their silent promise of eternal peace. +</pre> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0011" id="link2H_4_0011"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + VIII. + </h2> + <p> + I had intended to devote this particular report to an account of my + replies to certain questions which have been addressed to me,—questions + which I have a right to suppose interest the public, and which, therefore, + I was justified in bringing before The Teacups, and presenting to the + readers of these articles. + </p> + <p> + Some may care for one of these questions, and some for another. A good + many young people think nothing about life as it presents itself in the + far horizon, bounded by the snowy ridges of threescore and the dim peaks + beyond that remote barrier. Again, there are numbers of persons who know + nothing at all about the Jews; while, on the other hand, there are those + who can, or think they can, detect the Israelitish blood in many of their + acquaintances who believe themselves of the purest Japhetic origin, and + are full of prejudices about the Semitic race. + </p> + <p> + I do not mean to be cheated out of my intentions. I propose to answer my + questioners on the two points just referred to, but I find myself so much + interested in the personal affairs of The Teacups that I must deal with + them before attacking those less exciting subjects. There is no use, let + me say here, in addressing to me letters marked “personal,” “private,” + “confidential,” and so forth, asking me how I came to know what happened + in certain conversations of which I shall give a partial account. If there + is a very sensitive phonograph lying about here and there in unsuspected + corners, that might account for some part of my revelations. If Delilah, + whose hearing is of almost supernatural delicacy, reports to me what she + overhears, it might explain a part of the mystery. I do not want to accuse + Delilah, but a young person who assures me she can hear my watch ticking + in my pocket, when I am in the next room, might undoubtedly tell many + secrets, if so disposed. Number Five is pretty nearly omniscient, and she + and I are on the best terms with each other. These are all the hints I + shall give you at present. + </p> + <p> + The Teacups of whom the least has been heard at our table are the Tutor + and the Musician. The Tutor is a modest young man, kept down a little, I + think, by the presence of older persons, like the Professor and myself. I + have met him several times, of late, walking with different lady Teacups: + once with the American Annex; twice with the English Annex; once with the + two Annexes together; once with Number Five. + </p> + <p> + I have mentioned the fact that the Tutor is a poet as among his claims to + our attention. I must add that I do not think any the worse of him for + expressing his emotions and experiences in verse. For though rhyming is + often a bad sign in a young man, especially if he is already out of his + teens, there are those to whom it is as natural, one might almost say as + necessary, as it is to a young bird to fly. One does not care to see + barnyard fowls tumbling about in trying to use their wings. They have a + pair of good, stout drumsticks, and had better keep to them, for the most + part. But that feeling does not apply to young eagles, or even to young + swallows and sparrows. The Tutor is by no means one of those ignorant, + silly, conceited phrase-tinklers, who live on the music of their own + jingling syllables and the flattery of their foolish friends. I think + Number Five must appreciate him. He is sincere, warmhearted,—his + poetry shows that,—not in haste to be famous, and he looks to me as + if he only wanted love to steady him. With one of those two young girls he + ought certainly to be captivated, if he is not already. Twice walking with + the English Annex, I met him, and they were so deeply absorbed in + conversation they hardly noticed me. He has been talking over the matter + with Number Five, who is just the kind of person for a confidante. + </p> + <p> + “I know I feel very lonely,” he was saying, “and I only wish I felt sure + that I could make another person happy. My life would be transfigured if I + could find such a one, whom I could love well enough to give my life to + her,—for her, if that were needful, and who felt an affinity for me, + if any one could.” + </p> + <p> + “And why not your English maiden?” said Number Five. + </p> + <p> + “What makes you think I care more for her than for her American friend?” + said the Tutor. + </p> + <p> + “Why, have n't I met you walking with her, and did n't you both seem + greatly interested in the subject you were discussing? I thought, of + course, it was something more or less sentimental that you were talking + about.” + </p> + <p> + “I was explaining that 'enclitic de' in Browning's Grammarian's Funeral. I + don't think there was anything very sentimental about that. She is an + inquisitive creature, that English girl. She is very fond of asking me + questions,—in fact, both of them are. There is one curious + difference between them: the English girl settles down into her answers + and is quiet; the American girl is never satisfied with yesterday's + conclusions; she is always reopening old questions in the light of some + new fact or some novel idea. I suppose that people bred from childhood to + lean their backs against the wall of the Creed and the church catechism + find it hard to sit up straight on the republican stool, which obliges + them to stiffen their own backs. Which of these two girls would be the + safest choice for a young man? I should really like to hear what answer + you would make if I consulted you seriously, with a view to my own choice,—on + the supposition that there was a fair chance that either of them might be + won.” + </p> + <p> + “The one you are in love with,” answered Number Five. + </p> + <p> + “But what if it were a case of 'How happy could I be with either'? Which + offers the best chance of happiness,—a marriage between two persons + of the same country, or a marriage where one of the parties is of foreign + birth? Everything else being equal, which is best for an American to + marry, an American or an English girl? We need not confine the question to + those two young persons, but put it more generally.” + </p> + <p> + “There are reasons on both sides,” answered Number Five. “I have often + talked this matter over with The Dictator. This is the way he speaks about + it. English blood is apt to tell well on the stock upon which it is + engrafted. Over and over again he has noticed finely grown specimens of + human beings, and on inquiry has found that one or both of the parents or + grandparents were of British origin. The chances are that the descendants + of the imported stock will be of a richer organization, more florid, more + muscular, with mellower voices, than the native whose blood has been + unmingled with that of new emigrants since the earlier colonial times.—So + talks The Dictator.—I myself think the American will find his + English wife concentrates herself more readily and more exclusively on her + husband,—for the obvious reason that she is obliged to live mainly + in him. I remember hearing an old friend of my early days say, 'A woman + does not bear transplanting.' It does not do to trust these old sayings, + and yet they almost always have some foundation in the experience of + mankind, which has repeated them from generation to generation. Happy is + the married woman of foreign birth who can say to her husband, as + Andromache said to Hector, after enumerating all the dear relatives she + had lost, + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + “'Yet while my hector still survives, + I see My father, mother, brethren, all in thee!' +</pre> + <p> + “How many a sorrowing wife, exiled from her native country, dreams of the + mother she shall see no more! How many a widow, in a strange land, wishes + that her poor, worn-out body could be laid among her kinsfolk, in the + little churchyard where she used to gather daisies in her childhood! It + takes a great deal of love to keep down the 'climbing sorrow' that swells + up in a woman's throat when such memories seize upon her, in her moments + of desolation. But if a foreign-born woman does willingly give up all for + a man, and never looks backward, like Lot's wife, she is a prize that it + is worth running a risk to gain,—that is, if she has the making of a + good woman in her; and a few years will go far towards naturalizing her.” + </p> + <p> + The Tutor listened to Number Five with much apparent interest. “And now,” + he said, “what do you think of her companion?” + </p> + <p> + “A charming girl for a man of a quiet, easy temperament. The great trouble + is with her voice. It is pitched a full note too high. It is aggressive, + disturbing, and would wear out a nervous man without his ever knowing what + was the matter with him. A good many crazy Northern people would recover + their reason if they could live for a year or two among the blacks of the + Southern States. But the penetrating, perturbing quality of the voices of + many of our Northern women has a great deal to answer for in the way of + determining love and friendship. You remember that dear friend of ours who + left us not long since? If there were more voices like hers, the world + would be a different place to live in. I do not believe any man or woman + ever came within the range of those sweet, tranquil tones without being + hushed, captivated, entranced I might almost say, by their calming, + soothing influence. Can you not imagine the tones in which those words, + 'Peace, be still,' were spoken? Such was the effect of the voice to which + but a few weeks ago we were listening. It is hard to believe that it has + died out of human consciousness. Can such a voice be spared from that + world of happiness to which we fondly look forward, where we love to + dream, if we do not believe with assured conviction, that whatever is + loveliest in this our mortal condition shall be with us again as an + undying possession? Your English friend has a very agreeable voice, round, + mellow, cheery, and her articulation is charming. Other things being + equal, I think you, who are, perhaps, oversensitive, would live from two + to three years longer with her than with the other. I suppose a man who + lived within hearing of a murmuring brook would find his life shortened if + a sawmill were set up within earshot of his dwelling.” + </p> + <p> + “And so you advise me to make love to the English girl, do you?” asked the + Tutor. + </p> + <p> + Number Five laughed. It was not a loud laugh, she never laughed noisily; + it was not a very hearty laugh; the idea did not seem to amuse her much. + </p> + <p> + “No,” she said, “I won't take the responsibility. Perhaps this is a case + in which the true reading of Gay's line would be— + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + “How happy could I be with neither. +</pre> + <p> + “There are several young women in the world besides our two Annexes.” + </p> + <p> + I question whether the Tutor had asked those questions very seriously, and + I doubt if Number Five thought he was very much in earnest. + </p> + <p> + One of The Teacups reminded me that I had promised to say something of my + answers to certain questions. So I began at once: + </p> + <p> + I have given the name of brain-tappers to the literary operatives who + address persons whose names are well known to the public, asking their + opinions or their experiences on subjects which are at the time of general + interest. They expect a literary man or a scientific expert to furnish + them materials for symposia and similar articles, to be used by them for + their own special purposes. Sometimes they expect to pay for the + information furnished them; at other times, the honor of being included in + a list of noted personages who have received similar requests is thought + sufficient compensation. The object with which the brain-tapper puts his + questions may be a purely benevolent and entirely disinterested one. Such + was the object of some of those questions which I have received and + answered. There are other cases, in which the brain-tapper is acting much + as those persons do who stop a physician in the street to talk with him + about their livers or stomachs, or other internal arrangements, instead of + going to his office and consulting him, expecting to pay for his advice. + Others are more like those busy women who, having the generous intention + of making a handsome present to their pastor, at as little expense as may + be, send to all their neighbors and acquaintances for scraps of various + materials, out of which the imposing “bedspread” or counterpane is to be + elaborated. + </p> + <p> + That is all very well so long as old pieces of stuff are all they call + for, but it is a different matter to ask for clippings out of new and + uncut rolls of cloth. So it is one thing to ask an author for liberty to + use extracts from his published writings, and it is a very different thing + to expect him to write expressly for the editor's or compiler's piece of + literary patchwork. + </p> + <p> + I have received many questions within the last year or two, some of which + I am willing to answer, but prefer to answer at my own time, in my own + way, through my customary channel of communication with the public. I hope + I shall not be misunderstood as implying any reproach against the + inquirers who, in order to get at facts which ought to be known, apply to + all whom they can reach for information. Their inquisitiveness is not + always agreeable or welcome, but we ought to be glad that there are + mousing fact-hunters to worry us with queries to which, for the sake of + the public, we are bound to give our attention. Let me begin with my + brain-tappers. + </p> + <p> + And first, as the papers have given publicity to the fact that I, The + Dictator of this tea-table, have reached the age of threescore years and + twenty, I am requested to give information as to how I managed to do it, + and to explain just how they can go and do likewise. I think I can lay + down a few rules that will help them to the desired result. There is no + certainty in these biological problems, but there are reasonable + probabilities upon which it is safe to act. + </p> + <p> + The first thing to be done is, some years before birth, to advertise for a + couple of parents both belonging to long-lived families. Especially let + the mother come of a race in which octogenarians and nonagenarians are + very common phenomena. There are practical difficulties in following out + this suggestion, but possibly the forethought of your progenitors, or that + concurrence of circumstances which we call accident, may have arranged + this for you. + </p> + <p> + Do not think that a robust organization is any warrant of long life, nor + that a frail and slight bodily constitution necessarily means scanty + length of days. Many a strong-limbed young man and many a blooming young + woman have I seen failing and dropping away in or before middle life, and + many a delicate and slightly constituted person outliving the athletes and + the beauties of their generation. Whether the excessive development of the + muscular system is compatible with the best condition of general health + is, I think, more than doubtful. The muscles are great sponges that suck + up and make use of large quantities of blood, and the other organs must be + liable to suffer for want of their share. + </p> + <p> + One of the Seven Wise Men of Greece boiled his wisdom down into two words,—NOTHING + TOO MUCH. It is a rule which will apply to food, exercise, labor, sleep, + and, in short, to every part of life. This is not so very difficult a + matter if one begins in good season and forms regular habits. But what if + I should lay down the rule, Be cheerful; take all the troubles and trials + of life with perfect equanimity and a smiling countenance? Admirable + directions! Your friend, the curly-haired blonde, with florid complexion, + round cheeks, the best possible digestion and respiration, the stomach of + an ostrich and the lungs of a pearl-diver, finds it perfectly easy to + carry them into practice. You, of leaden complexion, with black and lank + hair, lean, hollow-eyed, dyspeptic, nervous, find it not so easy to be + always hilarious and happy. The truth is that the persons of that buoyant + disposition which comes always heralded by a smile, as a yacht driven by a + favoring breeze carries a wreath of sparkling foam before her, are born + with their happiness ready made. They cannot help being cheerful any more + than their saturnine fellow-mortal can help seeing everything through the + cloud he carries with him. I give you the precept, then, Be cheerful, for + just what it is worth, as I would recommend to you to be six feet, or at + least five feet ten, in stature. You cannot settle that matter for + yourself, but you can stand up straight, and give your five feet five its—full + value. You can help along a little by wearing high-heeled shoes. So you + can do something to encourage yourself in serenity of aspect and demeanor, + keeping your infirmities and troubles in the background instead of making + them the staple of your conversation. This piece of advice, if followed, + may be worth from three to five years of the fourscore which you hope to + attain. + </p> + <p> + If, on the other hand, instead of going about cheerily in society, making + the best of everything and as far as possible forgetting your troubles, + you can make up your mind to economize all your stores of vital energy, to + hoard your life as a miser hoards his money, you will stand a fair chance + of living until you are tired of life,—fortunate if everybody is not + tired of you. + </p> + <p> + One of my prescriptions for longevity may startle you somewhat. It is + this: Become the subject of a mortal disease. Let half a dozen doctors + thump you, and knead you, and test you in every possible way, and render + their verdict that you have an internal complaint; they don't know exactly + what it is, but it will certainly kill you by and by. Then bid farewell to + the world and shut yourself up for an invalid. If you are threescore years + old when you begin this mode of life, you may very probably last twenty + years, and there you are,—an octogenarian. In the mean time, your + friends outside have been dropping off, one after another, until you find + yourself almost alone, nursing your mortal complaint as if it were your + baby, hugging it and kept alive by it,—if to exist is to live. Who + has not seen cases like this,—a man or a woman shutting himself or + herself up, visited by a doctor or a succession of doctors (I remember + that once, in my earlier experience, I was the twenty-seventh physician + who had been consulted), always taking medicine, until everybody was + reminded of that impatient speech of a relative of one of these invalid + vampires who live on the blood of tired-out attendants, “I do wish she + would get well—or something”? Persons who are shut up in that way, + confined to their chambers, sometimes to their beds, have a very small + amount of vital expenditure, and wear out very little of their living + substance. They are like lamps with half their wicks picked down, and will + continue to burn when other lamps have used up all their oil. An insurance + office might make money by taking no risks except on lives of persons + suffering from mortal disease. It is on this principle of economizing the + powers of life that a very eminent American physician,—Dr. Weir + Mitchell, a man of genius,—has founded his treatment of certain + cases of nervous exhaustion. + </p> + <p> + What have I got to say about temperance, the use of animal food, and so + forth? These are questions asked me. Nature has proved a wise teacher, as + I think, in my own case. The older I grow, the less use I make of + alcoholic stimulants. In fact, I hardly meddle with them at all, except a + glass or two of champagne occasionally. I find that by far the best borne + of all drinks containing alcohol. I do not suppose my experience can be + the foundation of a universal rule. Dr. Holyoke, who lived to be a + hundred, used habitually, in moderate quantities, a mixture of cider, + water, and rum. I think, as one grows older, less food, especially less + animal food, is required. But old people have a right to be epicures, if + they can afford it. The pleasures of the palate are among the last + gratifications of the senses allowed them. We begin life as little + cannibals,—feeding on the flesh and blood of our mothers. We range + through all the vegetable and animal products, of nature, and I suppose, + if the second childhood could return to the food of the first, it might + prove a wholesome diet. + </p> + <p> + What do I say to smoking? I cannot grudge an old man his pipe, but I think + tobacco often does a good deal of harm to the health,—to the eyes + especially, to the nervous system generally, producing headache, + palpitation, and trembling. I myself gave it up many years ago. + Philosophically speaking, I think self-narcotization and + self-alcoholization are rather ignoble substitutes for undisturbed + self-consciousness and unfettered self-control. + </p> + <p> + Here is another of those brain-tapping letters, of similar character, + which I have no objection to answering at my own time and in the place + which best suits me. As the questions must be supposed to be asked with a + purely scientific and philanthropic purpose, it can make little difference + when and where they are answered. For myself, I prefer our own tea-table + to the symposia to which I am often invited. I do not quarrel with those + who invite their friends to a banquet to which many strangers are expected + to contribute. It is a very easy and pleasant way of giving an + entertainment at little cost and with no responsibility. Somebody has been + writing to me about “Oatmeal and Literature,” and somebody else wants to + know whether I have found character influenced by diet; also whether, in + my opinion, oatmeal is preferable to pie as an American national food. + </p> + <p> + In answer to these questions, I should say that I have my beliefs and + prejudices; but if I were pressed hard for my proofs of their correctness, + I should make but a poor show in the witness-box. Most assuredly I do + believe that body and mind are much influenced by the kind of food + habitually depended upon. I am persuaded that a too exclusively porcine + diet gives a bristly character to the beard and hair, which is borrowed + from the animal whose tissues these stiff-bearded compatriots of ours have + too largely assimilated. I can never stray among the village people of our + windy capes without now and then coming upon a human being who looks as if + he had been split, salted, and dried, like the salt-fish which has built + up his arid organism. If the body is modified by the food which nourishes + it, the mind and character very certainly will be modified by it also. We + know enough of their close connection with each other to be sure of that, + without any statistical observations to prove it. + </p> + <p> + Do you really want to know “whether oatmeal is preferable to pie as an + American national food”? I suppose the best answer I can give to your + question is to tell you what is my own practice. Oatmeal in the morning, + as an architect lays a bed of concrete to form a base for his + superstructure. Pie when I can get it; that is, of the genuine sort, for I + am not patriotic enough to think very highly of the article named after + the Father of his Country, who was first in war, first in peace,—not + first in pies, according to my standard. + </p> + <p> + There is a very odd prejudice against pie as an article of diet. It is + common to hear every form of bodily degeneracy and infirmity attributed to + this particular favorite food. I see no reason or sense in it. Mr. Emerson + believed in pie, and was almost indignant when a fellow-traveller refused + the slice he offered him. “Why, Mr.________,” said be, “what is pie made + for!” If every Green Mountain boy has not eaten a thousand times his + weight in apple, pumpkin, squash, and mince pie, call me a dumpling. And + Colonel Ethan Allen was one of them,—Ethan Allen, who, as they used + to say, could wrench off the head of a wrought nail with his teeth. + </p> + <p> + If you mean to keep as well as possible, the less you think about your + health the better. You know enough not to eat or drink what you have found + does not agree with you. You ought to know enough not to expose yourself + needlessly to draughts. If you take a “constitutional,” walk with the wind + when you can, and take a closed car against it if you can get one. Walking + against the wind is one of the most dangerous kinds of exposure, if you + are sensitive to cold. But except a few simple rules such as I have just + given, let your health take care of itself so long as it behaves decently. + If you want to be sure not to reach threescore and twenty, get a little + box of homoeopathic pellets and a little book of homeopathic + prescriptions. I had a poor friend who fell into that way, and became at + last a regular Hahnemaniac. He left a box of his little jokers, which at + last came into my hands. The poor fellow had cultivated symptoms as other + people cultivate roses or chrysanthemums. What a luxury of choice his + imagination presented to him! When one watches for symptoms, every organ + in the body is ready to put in its claim. By and by a real illness + attacked him, and the box of little pellets was shut up, to minister to + his fancied evils no longer. + </p> + <p> + Let me tell you one thing. I think if patients and physicians were in the + habit of recognizing the fact I am going to mention, both would be + gainers. The law I refer to must be familiar to all observing physicians, + and to all intelligent persons who have observed their own bodily and + mental conditions. This is the curve of health. It is a mistake to suppose + that the normal state of health is represented by a straight horizontal + line. Independently of the well-known causes which raise or depress the + standard of vitality, there seems to be,—I think I may venture to + say there is,—a rhythmic undulation in the flow of the vital force. + The “dynamo” which furnishes the working powers of consciousness and + action has its annual, its monthly, its diurnal waves, even its momentary + ripples, in the current it furnishes. There are greater and lesser curves + in the movement of every day's life,—a series of ascending and + descending movements, a periodicity depending on the very nature of the + force at work in the living organism. Thus we have our good seasons and + our bad seasons, our good days and our bad days, life climbing and + descending in long or short undulations, which I have called the curve of + health. + </p> + <p> + From this fact spring a great proportion of the errors of medical + practice. On it are based the delusions of the various shadowy systems + which impose themselves on the ignorant and half-learned public as + branches or “schools” of science. A remedy taken at the time of the ascent + in the curve of health is found successful. The same remedy taken while + the curve is in its downward movement proves a failure. + </p> + <p> + So long as this biological law exists, so long the charlatan will keep his + hold on the ignorant public. So long as it exists, the wisest practitioner + will be liable to deceive himself about the effect of what he calls and + loves to think are his remedies. Long-continued and sagacious observation + will to some extent undeceive him; but were it not for the happy illusion + that his useless or even deleterious drugs were doing good service, many a + practitioner would give up his calling for one in which he could be more + certain that he was really being useful to the subjects of his + professional dealings. For myself, I should prefer a physician of a + sanguine temperament, who had a firm belief in himself and his methods. I + do not wonder at all that the public support a whole community of + pretenders who show the portraits of the patients they have “cured.” The + best physicians will tell you that, though many patients get well under + their treatment, they rarely cure anybody. If you are told also that the + best physician has many more patients die on his hands than the worst of + his fellow-practitioners, you may add these two statements to your bundle + of paradoxes, and if they puzzle you I will explain them at some future + time. + </p> + <p> + [I take this opportunity of correcting a statement now going the rounds of + the medical and probably other periodicals. In “The Journal of the + American Medical Association,” dated April 26,1890, published at Chicago, + I am reported, in quotation marks, as saying, “Give me opium, wine, and + milk, and I will cure all diseases to which flesh is heir.” + </p> + <p> + In the first place, I never said I will cure, or can cure, or would or + could cure, or had cured any disease. My venerated instructor, Dr. James + Jackson, taught me never to use that expression. Curo means, I take care + of, he used to say, and in that sense, if you mean nothing more, it is + properly employed. So, in the amphitheatre of the Ecole de Medecine, I + used to read the words of Ambroise Pare, “Je le pansay, Dieu le guarist.” + (I dressed his wound, and God cured him.) Next, I am not in the habit of + talking about “the diseases to which flesh is heir.” The expression has + become rather too familiar for repetition, and belongs to the rhetoric of + other latitudes. And, lastly, I have said some plain things, perhaps some + sharp ones, about the abuse of drugs and the limited number of vitally + important remedies, but I am not so ignorantly presumptuous as to make the + foolish statement falsely attributed to me.] + </p> + <p> + I paused a minute or two, and as no one spoke out; I put a question to the + Counsellor. + </p> + <p> + Are you quite sure that you wish to live to be threescore and twenty years + old? + </p> + <p> + “Most certainly I do. Don't they say that Theophrastus lived to his + hundred and seventh year, and did n't he complain of the shortness of + life? At eighty a man has had just about time to get warmly settled in his + nest. Do you suppose he doesn't enjoy the quiet of that resting-place? No + more haggard responsibility to keep him awake nights,—unless he + prefers to retain his hold on offices and duties from which he can be + excused if he chooses. No more goading ambitions,—he knows he has + done his best. No more jealousies, if he were weak enough to feel such + ignoble stirrings in his more active season. An octogenarian with a good + record, and free from annoying or distressing infirmities, ought to be the + happiest of men. Everybody treats him with deference. Everybody wants to + help him. He is the ward of the generations that have grown up since he + was in the vigor of maturity. Yes, let me live to be fourscore years, and + then I will tell you whether I should like a few more years or not.” + </p> + <p> + You carry the feelings of middle age, I said, in imagination, over into + the period of senility, and then reason and dream about it as if its whole + mode of being were like that of the earlier period of life. But how many + things there are in old age which you must live into if you would expect + to have any “realizing sense” of their significance! In the first place, + you have no coevals, or next to none. At fifty, your vessel is stanch, and + you are on deck with the rest, in all weathers. At sixty, the vessel still + floats, and you are in the cabin. At seventy, you, with a few + fellow-passengers, are on a raft. At eighty, you are on a spars to which, + possibly, one, or two, or three friends of about your own age are still + clinging. After that, you must expect soon to find yourself alone, if you + are still floating, with only a life-preserver to keep your old + white-bearded chin above the water. + </p> + <p> + Kindness? Yes, pitying kindness, which is a bitter sweet in which the + amiable ingredient can hardly be said to predominate. How pleasant do you + think it is to have an arm offered to you when you are walking on a level + surface, where there is no chance to trip? How agreeable do you suppose it + is to have your well-meaning friends shout and screech at you, as if you + were deaf as an adder, instead of only being, as you insist, somewhat hard + of hearing? I was a little over twenty years old when I wrote the lines + which some of you may have met with, for they have been often reprinted: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + The mossy marbles rest + On the lips that he has prest + In their bloom, + And the names he loved to hear + Have been carved for many a year + On the tomb. +</pre> + <p> + The world was a garden to me then; it is a churchyard now. + </p> + <p> + “I thought you were one of those who looked upon old age cheerfully, and + welcomed it as a season of peace and contented enjoyment.” + </p> + <p> + I am one of those who so regard it. Those are not bitter or scalding tears + that fall from my eyes upon “the mossy marbles.” The young who left my + side early in my life's journey are still with me in the unchanged + freshness and beauty of youth. Those who have long kept company with me + live on after their seeming departure, were it only by the mere force of + habit; their images are all around me, as if every surface had been a + sensitive film that photographed them; their voices echo about me, as if + they had been recorded on those unforgetting cylinders which bring back to + us the tones and accents that have imprinted them, as the hardened sands + show us the tracks of extinct animals. The melancholy of old age has a + divine tenderness in it, which only the sad experiences of life can lend a + human soul. But there is a lower level,—that of tranquil contentment + and easy acquiescence in the conditions in which we find ourselves; a + lower level, in which old age trudges patiently when it is not using its + wings. I say its wings, for no period of life is so imaginative as that + which looks to younger people the most prosaic. The atmosphere of memory + is one in which imagination flies more easily and feels itself more at + home than in the thinner ether of youthful anticipation. I have told you + some of the drawbacks of age; I would not have you forget its privileges. + When it comes down from its aerial excursions, it has much left to enjoy + on the humble plane of being. And so you think you would like to become an + octogenarian? “I should,” said the Counsellor, now a man in the high noon + of bodily and mental vigor. “Four more—yes, five more—decades + would not be too much, I think. And how much I should live to see in that + time! I am glad you have laid down some rules by which a man may + reasonably expect to leap the eight barred gate. I won't promise to obey + them all, though.” + </p> + <p> + Among the questions addressed to me, as to a large number of other + persons, are the following. I take them from “The American Hebrew” of + April 4, 1890. I cannot pretend to answer them all, but I can say + something about one or two of them. + </p> + <p> + “I. Can you, of your own personal experience, find any justification + whatever for the entertainment of prejudice towards individuals solely + because they are Jews? + </p> + <p> + “II. Is this prejudice not due largely to the religious instruction that + is given by the church acid Sunday-school? For instance, the teachings + that the Jews crucified Jesus; that they rejected him, and can only secure + salvation by belief in him, and similar matters that are calculated to + excite in the impressionable mind of the child an aversion, if not a + loathing, for members of 'the despised race.' + </p> + <p> + “III. Have you observed in the social or business life of the Jew, so far + as your personal experience has gone, any different standard of conduct + than prevails among Christians of the same social status? + </p> + <p> + “IV. Can you suggest what should be done to dispel the existing + prejudice?” + </p> + <p> + As to the first question, I have had very slight acquaintance with the + children of Israel. I shared more or less the prevailing prejudices + against the persecuted race. I used to read in my hymn-book,—I hope + I quote correctly,— + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + “See what a living stone + The builders did refuse! + Yet God has built his church thereon, + In spite of envious Jews.” + </pre> + <p> + I grew up inheriting the traditional idea that they were a race lying + under a curse for their obstinacy in refusing the gospel. Like other + children of New England birth, I walked in the narrow path of Puritan + exclusiveness. The great historical church of Christendom was presented to + me as Bunyan depicted it: one of the two giants sitting at the door of + their caves, with the bones, of pilgrims scattered about them, and + grinning at the travellers whom they could no longer devour. In the + nurseries of old-fashioned Orthodoxy there was one religion in the world,—one + religion, and a multitude of detestable, literally damnable impositions, + believed in by uncounted millions, who were doomed to perdition for so + believing. The Jews were the believers in one of these false religions. It + had been true once, but was now a pernicious and abominable lie. The + principal use of the Jews seemed to be to lend money, and to fulfil the + predictions of the old prophets of their race. + </p> + <p> + No doubt the individual sons of Abraham whom we found in our ill-favored + and ill-flavored streets were apt to be unpleasing specimens of the race. + It was against the most adverse influences of legislation, of religious + feeling, of social repugnance, that the great names of Jewish origin made + themselves illustrious; that the philosophers, the musicians, the + financiers, the statesmen, of the last centuries forced the world to + recognize and accept them. Benjamin, the son of Isaac, a son of Israel, as + his family name makes obvious, has shown how largely Jewish blood has been + represented in the great men and women of modern days. + </p> + <p> + There are two virtues which Christians have found it very hard to + exemplify in practice. These are modesty and civility. The Founder of the + Christian religion appeared among a people accustomed to look for a + Messiah, a special ambassador from heaven, with an authoritative message. + They were intimately acquainted with every expression having reference to + this divine messenger. They had a religion of their own, about which + Christianity agrees with Judaism in asserting that it was of divine + origin. It is a serious fact, to which we do not give all the attention it + deserves, that this divinely instructed people were not satisfied with the + evidence that the young Rabbi who came to overthrow their ancient church + and found a new one was a supernatural being. “We think he was a great + Doctor,” said a Jewish companion with whom I was conversing. He meant a + great Teacher, I presume, though healing the sick was one of his special + offices. Instead of remembering that they were entitled to form their own + judgment of the new Teacher, as they had judged of Hillel and other great + instructors, Christians, as they called themselves, have insulted, + calumniated, oppressed, abased, outraged, “the chosen race” during the + long succession of centuries since the Jewish contemporaries of the + Founder of Christianity made up their minds that he did not meet the + conditions required by the subject of the predictions of their Scriptures. + The course of the argument against them is very briefly and effectively + stated by Mr. Emerson: + </p> + <p> + “This was Jehovah come down out of heaven. I will kill you if you say he + was a man.” + </p> + <p> + It seems as if there should be certain laws of etiquette regulating the + relation of different religions to each other. It is not civil for a + follower of Mahomet to call his neighbor of another creed a “Christian + dog.” Still more, there should be something like politeness in the bearing + of Christian sects toward each other, and of believers in the new + dispensation toward those who still adhere to the old. We are in the habit + of allowing a certain arrogant assumption to our Roman Catholic brethren. + We have got used to their pretensions. They may call us “heretics,” if + they like. They may speak of us as “infidels,” if they choose, especially + if they say it in Latin. So long as there is no inquisition, so long as + there is no auto da fe, we do not mind the hard words much; and we have as + good phrases to give them back: the Man of Sin and the Scarlet Woman will + serve for examples. But it is better to be civil to each other all round. + I doubt if a convert to the religion of Mahomet was ever made by calling a + man a Christian dog. I doubt if a Hebrew ever became a good Christian if + the baptismal rite was performed by spitting on his Jewish gabardine. I + have often thought of the advance in comity and true charity shown in the + title of my late honored friend James Freeman Clarke's book, “The Ten + Great Religions.” If the creeds of mankind try to understand each other + before attempting mutual extermination, they will be sure to find a + meaning in beliefs which are different from their own. The old Calvinistic + spirit was almost savagely exclusive. While the author of the “Ten Great + Religions” was growing up in Boston under the benignant, large-minded + teachings of the Rev. James Freeman, the famous Dr. John M. Mason, at New + York, was fiercely attacking the noble humanity of “The Universal Prayer.” + “In preaching,” says his biographer, “he once quoted Pope's lines as to + God's being adored alike 'by saint, by savage, and by sage,' and + pronounced it (in his deepest guttural) 'the most damnable lie.'” + </p> + <p> + What could the Hebrew expect when a Christian preacher could use such + language about a petition breathing the very soul of humanity? Happily, + the true human spirit is encroaching on that arrogant and narrow-minded + form of selfishness which called itself Christianity. + </p> + <p> + The golden rule should govern us in dealing with those whom we call + unbelievers, with heathen, and with all who do not accept our religious + views. The Jews are with us as a perpetual lesson to teach us modesty and + civility. The religion we profess is not self-evident. It did not convince + the people to whom it was sent. We have no claim to take it for granted + that we are all right, and they are all wrong. And, therefore, in the + midst of all the triumphs of Christianity, it is well that the stately + synagogue should lift its walls by the side of the aspiring cathedral, a + perpetual reminder that there are many mansions in the Father's earthly + house as well as in the heavenly one; that civilized humanity, longer in + time and broader in space than any historical form of belief, is mightier + than any one institution or organization it includes. + </p> + <p> + Many years ago I argued with myself the proposition which my Hebrew + correspondent has suggested. Recognizing the fact that I was born to a + birthright of national and social prejudices against “the chosen people,”—chosen + as the object of contumely and abuse by the rest of the world,—I + pictured my own inherited feelings of aversion in all their intensity, and + the strain of thought under the influence of which those prejudices gave + way to a more human, a more truly Christian feeling of brotherhood. I must + ask your indulgence while I quote a few verses from a poem of my own, + printed long ago under the title “At the Pantomime.” + </p> + <p> + I was crowded between two children of Israel, and gave free inward + expression to my feelings. All at once I happened to look more closely at + one of my neighbors, and saw that the youth was the very ideal of the Son + of Mary. + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + A fresh young cheek whose olive hue + The mantling blood shows faintly through; + Locks dark as midnight, that divide + And shade the neck on either side; + Soft, gentle, loving eyes that gleam + Clear as a starlit mountain stream; + So looked that other child of Shem, + The Maiden's Boy of Bethlehem! + + —And thou couldst scorn the peerless blood + That flows unmingled from the Flood, + Thy scutcheon spotted with the stains + Of Norman thieves and pirate Danes! + The New World's foundling, in thy pride + Scowl on the Hebrew at thy side, + And lo! the very semblance there + The Lord of Glory deigned to wear! + + I see that radiant image rise, + The flowing hair, the pitying eyes, + The faintly crimsoned cheek that shows + The blush of Sharon's opening rose, + Thy hands would clasp his hallowed feet + Whose brethren soil thy Christian seat, + Thy lips would press his garment's hem + That curl in wrathful scorn for them! + + A sudden mist, a watery screen, + Dropped like a veil before the scene; + The shadow floated from my soul, + And to my lips a whisper stole: + —Thy prophets caught the Spirit's flame, + From thee the Son of Mary came, + With thee the Father deigned to dwell, + Peace be upon thee, Israel! +</pre> + <p> + It is not to be expected that intimate relations will be established + between Jewish and Christian communities until both become so far + rationalized and humanized that their differences are comparatively + unimportant. But already there is an evident approximation in the extreme + left of what is called liberal Christianity and the representatives of + modern Judaism. The life of a man like the late Sir Moses Montefiore reads + a lesson from the Old Testament which might well have been inspired by the + noblest teachings of the Christian Gospels. + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Delilah, and how she got her name. +</pre> + <p> + Est-elle bien gentille, cette petite? I said one day to Number Five, as + our pretty Delilah put her arm between us with a bunch of those tender + early radishes that so recall the rosy-fingered morning of Homer. The + little hand which held the radishes would not have shamed Aurora. That + hand has never known drudgery, I feel sure. + </p> + <p> + When I spoke those French words our little Delilah gave a slight, + seemingly involuntary start, and her cheeks grew of as bright a red as her + radishes. Ah, said I to myself; does that young girl understand French? It + may be worth while to be careful what one says before her. + </p> + <p> + There is a mystery about this girl. She seems to know her place perfectly,—except, + perhaps, when she burst out crying, the other day, which was against all + the rules of table-maiden's etiquette,—and yet she looks as if she + had been born to be waited on, and not to perform that humble service for + others. We know that once in a while girls with education and well + connected take it into their heads to go into service for a few weeks or + months. Sometimes it is from economic motives,—to procure means for + their education, or to help members of their families who need assistance. + At any rate, they undertake the lighter menial duties of some household + where they are not known, and, having stooped—if stooping it is to + be considered—to lowly offices, no born and bred servants are more + faithful to all their obligations. You must not suppose she was christened + Delilah. Any of our ministers would hesitate to give such a heathen name + to a Christian child. + </p> + <p> + The way she came to get it was this: The Professor was going to give a + lecture before an occasional audience, one evening. When he took his seat + with the other Teacups, the American Annex whispered to the other Annex, + “His hair wants cutting,—it looks like fury.” “Quite so,” said the + English Annex. “I wish you would tell him so,—I do, awfully.” “I'll + fix it,” said the American girl. So, after the teacups were emptied and + the company had left the table, she went up to the Professor. “You read + this lecture, don't you, Professor?” she said. “I do,” he answered. “I + should think that lock of hair which falls down over your forehead would + trouble you,” she said. “It does sometimes,” replied the Professor. “Let + our little maid trim it for you. You're equal to that, aren't you?” + turning to the handmaiden. “I always used to cut my father's hair,” she + answered. She brought a pair of glittering shears, and before she would + let the Professor go she had trimmed his hair and beard as they had not + been dealt with for many a day. Everybody said the Professor looked ten + years younger. After that our little handmaiden was always called Delilah, + among the talking Teacups. + </p> + <p> + The Mistress keeps a watchful eye on this young girl. I should not be + surprised to find that she was carrying out some ideal, some fancy or + whim,—possibly nothing more, but springing from some generous, + youthful impulse. Perhaps she is working for that little sister at the + Blind Asylum. Where did she learn French? She did certainly blush, and + betrayed every sign of understanding the words spoken about her in that + language. Sometimes she sings while at her work, and we have all been + struck with the pure, musical character of her voice. It is just such a + voice as ought to come from that round white throat. We made a discovery + about it the other evening. + </p> + <p> + The Mistress keeps a piano in her room, and we have sometimes had music in + the evening. One of The Teacups, to whom I have slightly referred, is an + accomplished pianist, and the two Annexes sing very sweetly together,—the + American girl having a clear soprano voice, the English girl a mellow + contralto. They had sung several tunes, when the Mistress rang for Avis,—for + that is our Delilah's real name. She whispered to the young girl, who + blushed and trembled. “Don't be frightened,” said the Mistress + encouragingly. “I have heard you singing 'Too Young for Love,' and I will + get our pianist to play it. The young ladies both know it, and you must + join in.” + </p> + <p> + The two voices, with the accompaniment, had hardly finished the first line + when a pure, ringing, almost childlike voice joined the vocal duet. The + sound of her own voice seemed to make her forget her fears, and she + warbled as naturally and freely as any young bird of a May morning. Number + Five came in while she was singing, and when she got through caught her in + her arms and kissed her, as if she were her sister, and not Delilah, our + table-maid. Number Five is apt to forget herself and those social + differences to which some of us attach so much importance. This is the + song in which the little maid took part: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + TOO YOUNG FOR LOVE. + + Too young for love? + Ah, say not so! + Tell reddening rose-buds not to blow! + Wait not for spring to pass away, + —Love's summer months begin with May! + Too young for love? + Ah, say not so! + Too young? Too young? + Ah, no! no! no! + + Too young for love? + Ah, say not so, + While daisies bloom and tulips glow! + June soon will come with lengthened day + To practise all love learned in May. + Too young for love? + Ah, say not so! + Too young? Too young? + Ah, no! no! no! +</pre> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0012" id="link2H_4_0012"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + IX + </h2> + <p> + I often wish that our Number Seven could have known and corresponded with + the author of “The Budget of Paradoxes.” I think Mr. De Morgan would have + found some of his vagaries and fancies not undeserving of a place in his + wonderful collection of eccentricities, absurdities, ingenuities,—mental + freaks of all sorts. But I think he would have now and then recognized a + sound idea, a just comparison, a suggestive hint, a practical notion, + which redeemed a page of extravagances and crotchety whims. I confess that + I am often pleased with fancies of his, and should be willing to adopt + them as my own. I think he has, in the midst of his erratic and tangled + conceptions, some perfectly clear and consistent trains of thought. + </p> + <p> + So when Number Seven spoke of sending us a paper, I welcomed the + suggestion. I asked him whether he had any objection to my looking it over + before he read it. My proposal rather pleased him, I thought, for, as was + observed on a former occasion, he has in connection with a belief in + himself another side,—a curious self-distrust. I have no question + that he has an obscure sense of some mental deficiency. Thus you may + expect from him first a dogma, and presently a doubt. If you fight his + dogma, he will do battle for it stoutly; if you let him alone, he will + very probably explain its extravagances, if it has any, and tame it into + reasonable limits. Sometimes he is in one mood, sometimes in another. + </p> + <p> + The first portion of what we listened to shows him at his best; in the + latter part I am afraid you will think he gets a little wild. + </p> + <p> + I proceed to lay before you the paper which Number Seven read to The + Teacups. There was something very pleasing in the deference which was + shown him. We all feel that there is a crack in the teacup, and are + disposed to handle it carefully. I have left out a few things which he + said, feeling that they might give offence to some of the company. There + were sentences so involved and obscure that I was sure they would not be + understood, if indeed he understood them himself. But there are other + passages so entirely sane, and as it seems to me so just, that if any + reader attributes them to me I shall not think myself wronged by the + supposition. You must remember that Number Seven has had a fair education, + that he has been a wide reader in many directions, and that he belongs to + a family of remarkable intellectual gifts. So it was not surprising that + he said some things which pleased the company, as in fact they did. The + reader will not be startled to see a certain abruptness in the transition + from one subject to another,—it is a characteristic of the squinting + brain wherever you find it. Another curious mark rarely wanting in the + subjects of mental strabismus is an irregular and often sprawling and + deformed handwriting. Many and many a time I have said, after glancing at + the back of a letter, “This comes from an insane asylum, or from an + eccentric who might well be a candidate for such an institution.” Number + Seven's manuscript, which showed marks of my corrections here and there, + furnished good examples of the chirography of persons with ill-mated + cerebral hemispheres. But the earlier portions of the manuscript are of + perfectly normal appearance. + </p> + <p> + Conticuere omnes, as Virgil says. We were all silent as Number Seven began + the reading of his paper. + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Number Seven reads. +</pre> + <p> + I am the seventh son of a seventh son, as I suppose you all know. It is + commonly believed that some extraordinary gifts belong to the fortunate + individuals born under these exceptional conditions. However this may be, + a peculiar virtue was supposed to dwell in me from my earliest years. My + touch was believed to have the influence formerly attributed to that of + the kings and queens of England. You may remember that the great Dr. + Samuel Johnson, when a child, was carried to be touched by her Majesty + Queen Anne for the “king's evil,” as scrofula used to be called. Our + honored friend The Dictator will tell you that the brother of one of his + Andover schoolmates was taken to one of these gifted persons, who touched + him, and hung a small bright silver coin, either a “fourpence ha'penny” or + a “ninepence,” about his neck, which, strange to say, after being worn a + certain time, became tarnished, and finally black,—a proof of the + poisonous matters which had become eliminated from the system and gathered + upon the coin. I remember that at one time I used to carry fourpence + ha'pennies with holes bored through them, which I furnished to children or + to their mothers, under pledges of secrecy,—receiving a piece of + silver of larger dimensions in exchange. I never felt quite sure about any + extraordinary endowment being a part of my inheritance in virtue of my + special conditions of birth. A phrenologist, who examined my head when I + was a boy, said the two sides were unlike. My hatter's measurement told me + the same thing; but in looking over more than a bushel of the small + cardboard hat-patterns which give the exact shape of the head, I have + found this is not uncommon. The phrenologist made all sorts of predictions + of what I should be and do, which proved about as near the truth as those + recorded in Miss Edith Thomas's charming little poem, “Augury,” which some + of us were reading the other day. + </p> + <p> + I have never been through college, but I had a relative who was famous as + a teacher of rhetoric in one of our universities, and especially for + taking the nonsense out of sophomorical young fellows who could not say + anything without rigging it up in showy and sounding phrases. I think I + learned from him to express myself in good old-fashioned English, and + without making as much fuss about it as our Fourth of July orators and + political haranguers were in the habit of making. + </p> + <p> + I read a good many stories during my boyhood, one of which left a lasting + impression upon me, and which I have always commended to young people. It + is too late, generally, to try to teach old people, yet one may profit by + it at any period of life before the sight has become too dim to be of any + use. The story I refer to is in “Evenings at Home,” and is called “Eyes + and No Eyes.” I ought to have it by me, but it is constantly happening + that the best old things get overlaid by the newest trash; and though I + have never seen anything of the kind half so good, my table and shelves + are cracking with the weight of involuntary accessions to my library. + </p> + <p> + This is the story as I remember it: Two children walk out, and are + questioned when they come home. One has found nothing to observe, nothing + to admire, nothing to describe, nothing to ask questions about. The other + has found everywhere objects of curiosity and interest. I advise you, if + you are a child anywhere under forty-five, and do not yet wear glasses, to + send at once for “Evenings at Home” and read that story. For myself, I am + always grateful to the writer of it for calling my attention to common + things. How many people have been waked to a quicker consciousness of life + by Wordsworth's simple lines about the daffodils, and what he says of the + thoughts suggested to him by “the meanest flower that blows”! + </p> + <p> + I was driving with a friend, the other day, through a somewhat dreary + stretch of country, where there seemed to be very little to attract notice + or deserve remark. Still, the old spirit infused by “Eyes and No Eyes” was + upon me, and I looked for something to fasten my thought upon, and treat + as an artist treats a study for a picture. The first object to which my + eyes were drawn was an old-fashioned well-sweep. It did not take much + imaginative sensibility to be stirred by the sight of this most useful, + most ancient, most picturesque, of domestic conveniences. I know something + of the shadoof of Egypt,—the same arrangement by which the sacred + waters of the Nile have been lifted, from the days of the Pharaohs to + those of the Khedives. That long forefinger pointing to heaven was a + symbol which spoke to the Puritan exile as it spoke of old to the enslaved + Israelite. Was there ever any such water as that which we used to draw + from the deep, cold well, in “the old oaken bucket”? What memories gather + about the well in all ages! What love-matches have been made at its + margin, from the times of Jacob and, Rachel downward! What fairy legends + hover over it, what fearful mysteries has it hidden! The beautiful + well-sweep! It is too rarely that we see it, and as it dies out and gives + place to the odiously convenient pump, with the last patent on its + cast-iron uninterestingness, does it not seem as if the farmyard aspect + had lost half its attraction? So long as the dairy farm exists, doubtless + there must be every facility for getting water in abundance; but the loss + of the well-sweep cannot be made up to us even if our milk were diluted to + twice its present attenuation. + </p> + <p> + The well-sweep had served its turn, and my companion and I relapsed into + silence. After a while we passed another farmyard, with nothing which + seemed deserving of remark except the wreck of an old wagon. + </p> + <p> + “Look,” I said, “if you want to see one of the greatest of all the + triumphs of human ingenuity, one of the most beautiful, as it is one of + the most useful, of all the mechanisms which the intelligence of + successive ages has called into being.” + </p> + <p> + “I see nothing,” my companion answered, “but an old broken-down wagon. Why + they leave such a piece of lumbering trash about their place, where people + can see it as they pass, is more than I can account for.” + </p> + <p> + “And yet,” said I, “there is one of the most extraordinary products of + human genius and skill,—an object which combines the useful and the + beautiful to an extent which hardly any simple form of mechanism can + pretend to rival. Do you notice how, while everything else has gone to + smash, that wheel remains sound and fit for service? Look at it merely for + its beauty. + </p> + <p> + “See the perfect circles, the outer and the inner. A circle is in itself a + consummate wonder of geometrical symmetry. It is the line in which the + omnipotent energy delights to move. There is no fault in it to be amended. + The first drawn circle and the last both embody the same complete + fulfillment of a perfect design. Then look at the rays which pass from the + inner to the outer circle. How beautifully they bring the greater and + lesser circles into connection with each other! The flowers know that + secret,—the marguerite in the meadow displays it as clearly as the + great sun in heaven. How beautiful is this flower of wood and iron, which + we were ready to pass by without wasting a look upon it! But its beauty is + only the beginning of its wonderful claim upon us for our admiration. Look + at that field of flowering grass, the triticum vulgare,—see how its + waves follow the breeze in satiny alternations of light and shadow. You + admire it for its lovely aspect; but when you remember that this flowering + grass is wheat, the finest food of the highest human races, it gains a + dignity, a glory, that its beauty alone could not give it. + </p> + <p> + “Now look at that exquisite structure lying neglected and disgraced, but + essentially unchanged in its perfection, before you. That slight and + delicate-looking fabric has stood such a trial as hardly any slender + contrivance, excepting always the valves of the heart, was ever subjected + to. It has rattled for years over the cobble-stones of a rough city + pavement. It has climbed over all the accidental obstructions it met in + the highway, and dropped into all the holes and deep ruts that made the + heavy farmer sitting over it use his Sunday vocabulary in a week-day form + of speech. At one time or another, almost every part of that old wagon has + given way. It has had two new pairs of shafts. Twice the axle has broken + off close to the hub, or nave. The seat broke when Zekle and Huldy were + having what they called 'a ride' together. The front was kicked in by a + vicious mare. The springs gave way and the floor bumped on the axle. Every + portion of the wagon became a prey of its special accident, except that + most fragile looking of all its parts, the wheel. Who can help admiring + the exact distribution of the power of resistance at the least possible + expenditure of material which is manifested in this wondrous triumph of + human genius and skill? The spokes are planted in the solid hub as + strongly as the jaw-teeth of a lion in their deep-sunken sockets. Each + spoke has its own territory in the circumference, for which it is + responsible. According to the load the vehicle is expected to carry, they + are few or many, stout or slender, but they share their joint labor with + absolute justice,—not one does more, not one does less, than its + just proportion. The outer end of the spokes is received into the deep + mortise of the wooden fellies, and the structure appears to be complete. + But how long would it take to turn that circle into a polygon, unless some + mighty counteracting force should prevent it? See the iron tire brought + hot from the furnace and laid around the smoking circumference. Once in + place, the workman cools the hot iron; and as it shrinks with a force that + seems like a hand-grasp of the Omnipotent, it clasps the fitted fragments + of the structure, and compresses them into a single inseparable whole. + </p> + <p> + “Was it not worth our while to stop a moment before passing that old + broken wagon, and see whether we could not find as much in it as Swift + found in his 'Meditations on a Broomstick'? I have been laughed at for + making so much of such a common thing as a wheel. Idiots! Solomon's court + fool would have scoffed at the thought of the young Galilean who dared + compare the lilies of the field to his august master. Nil admirari is very + well for a North American Indian and his degenerate successor, who has + grown too grand to admire anything but himself, and takes a cynical pride + in his stolid indifference to everything worth reverencing or honoring.” + </p> + <p> + After calling my companion's attention to the wheel, and discoursing upon + it until I thought he was getting sleepy, we jogged along until we came to + a running stream. It was crossed by a stone bridge of a single arch. There + are very few stone arches over the streams in New England country towns, + and I always delighted in this one. It was built in the last century, + amidst the doubting predictions of staring rustics, and stands to-day as + strong as ever, and seemingly good for centuries to come. + </p> + <p> + “See there!” said I,—“there is another of my 'Eyes and No Eyes' + subjects to meditate upon. Next to the wheel, the arch is the noblest of + those elementary mechanical composites, corresponding to the proximate + principles of chemistry. The beauty of the arch consists first in its + curve, commonly a part of the circle, of the perfection of which I have + spoken. But the mind derives another distinct pleasure from the admirable + manner in which the several parts, each different from all the others, + contribute to a single harmonious effect. It is a typical example of the + piu nel uno. An arch cut out or a single stone would not be so beautiful + as one of which each individual stone was shaped for its exact position. + Its completion by the locking of the keystone is a delight to witness and + to contemplate. And how the arch endures, when its lateral thrust is met + by solid masses of resistance! In one of the great temples of Baalbec a + keystone has slipped, but how rare is that occurrence! One will hardly + find another such example among all the ruins of antiquity. Yes, I never + get tired of arches. They are noble when shaped of solid marble blocks, + each carefully beveled for its position. They are beautiful when + constructed with the large thin tiles the Romans were so fond of using. I + noticed some arches built in this way in the wall of one of the grand + houses just going up on the bank of the river. They were over the + capstones of the windows,—to take off the pressure from them, no + doubt, for now and then a capstone will crack under the weight of the + superincumbent mass. How close they fit, and how striking the effect of + their long radiations!” + </p> + <p> + The company listened very well up to this point. When he began the strain + of thoughts which follows, a curious look went round The Teacups. + </p> + <p> + What a strange underground life is that which is led by the organisms we + call trees! These great fluttering masses of leaves, stems, boughs, + trunks, are not the real trees. They live underground, and what we see are + nothing more nor less than their tails. + </p> + <p> + The Mistress dropped her teaspoon. Number Five looked at the Doctor, whose + face was very still and sober. The two Annexes giggled, or came very near + it. + </p> + <p> + Yes, a tree is an underground creature, with its tail in the air. All its + intelligence is in its roots. All the senses it has are in its roots. + Think what sagacity it shows in its search after food and drink! Somehow + or other, the rootlets, which are its tentacles, find out that there is a + brook at a moderate distance from the trunk of the tree, and they make for + it with all their might. They find every crack in the rocks where there + are a few grains of the nourishing substance they care for, and insinuate + themselves into its deepest recesses. When spring and summer come, they + let their tails grow, and delight in whisking them about in the wind, or + letting them be whisked about by it; for these tails are poor passive + things, with very little will of their own, and bend in whatever direction + the wind chooses to make them. The leaves make a deal of noise whispering. + I have sometimes thought I could understand them, as they talk with each + other, and that they seemed to think they made the wind as they wagged + forward and back. Remember what I say. The next time you see a tree waving + in the wind, recollect that it is the tail of a great underground, + many-armed, polypus-like creature, which is as proud of its caudal + appendage, especially in summer-time, as a peacock of his gorgeous expanse + of plumage. + </p> + <p> + Do you think there is anything so very odd about this idea? Once get it + well into your heads, and you will find it renders the landscape + wonderfully interesting. There are as many kinds of tree-tails as there + are of tails to dogs and other quadrupeds. Study them as Daddy Gilpin + studied them in his “Forest Scenery,” but don't forget that they are only + the appendage of the underground vegetable polypus, the true organism to + which they belong. + </p> + <p> + He paused at this point, and we all drew long breaths, wondering what was + coming next. There was no denying it, the “cracked Teacup” was clinking a + little false,—so it seemed to the company. Yet, after all, the fancy + was not delirious,—the mind could follow it well enough; let him go + on. + </p> + <p> + What do you say to this? You have heard all sorts of things said in prose + and verse about Niagara. Ask our young Doctor there what it reminds him + of. Is n't it a giant putting his tongue out? How can you fail to see the + resemblance? The continent is a great giant, and the northern half holds + the head and shoulders. You can count the pulse of the giant wherever the + tide runs up a creek; but if you want to look at the giant's tongue, you + must go to Niagara. If there were such a thing as a cosmic physician, I + believe he could tell the state of the country's health, and the prospects + of the mortality for the coming season, by careful inspection of the great + tongue, which Niagara is putting out for him, and has been showing to + mankind ever since the first flint-shapers chipped their arrow-heads. You + don't think the idea adds to the sublimity and associations of the + cataract? I am sorry for that, but I can't help the suggestion. It is just + as manifestly a tongue put out for inspection as if it had Nature's own + label to that effect hung over it. I don't know whether you can see these + things as clearly as I do. There are some people that never see anything, + if it is as plain as a hole in a grindstone, until it is pointed out to + them; and some that can't see it then, and won't believe there is any hole + till they've poked their finger through it. I've got a great many things + to thank God for, but perhaps most of all that I can find something to + admire, to wonder at, to set my fancy going, and to wind up my enthusiasm + pretty much everywhere. + </p> + <p> + Look here! There are crowds of people whirled through our streets on these + new-fashioned cars, with their witch-broomsticks overhead,—if they + don't come from Salem, they ought to,—and not more than one in a + dozen of these fish-eyed bipeds thinks or cares a nickel's worth about the + miracle which is wrought for their convenience. They know that without + hands or feet, without horses, without steam, so far as they can see, they + are transported from place to place, and that there is nothing to account + for it except the witch-broomstick and the iron or copper cobweb which + they see stretched above them. What do they know or care about this last + revelation of the omnipresent spirit of the material universe? We ought to + go down on our knees when one of these mighty caravans, car after car, + spins by us, under the mystic impulse which seems to know not whether its + train is loaded or empty. We are used to force in the muscles of horses, + in the expansive potency of steam, but here we have force stripped stark + naked,—nothing but a filament to cover its nudity,—and yet + showing its might in efforts that would task the working-beam of a + ponderous steam-engine. I am thankful that in an age of cynicism I have + not lost my reverence. Perhaps you would wonder to see how some very + common sights impress me. I always take off my hat if I stop to speak to a + stone-cutter at his work. “Why?” do you ask me? Because I know that his is + the only labor that is likely to endure. A score of centuries has not + effaced the marks of the Greek's or the Roman's chisel on his block of + marble. And now, before this new manifestation of that form of cosmic + vitality which we call electricity, I feel like taking the posture of the + peasants listening to the Angelus. How near the mystic effluence of + mechanical energy brings us to the divine source of all power and motion! + In the old mythology, the right hand of Jove held and sent forth the + lightning. So, in the record of the Hebrew prophets, did the right hand of + Jehovah cast forth and direct it. Was Nahum thinking of our far-off time + when he wrote, “The chariots shall rage in the streets, they shall justle + one against another in the broad ways: they shall seem like torches, they + shall run like the lightnings”? + </p> + <p> + Number Seven had finished reading his paper. Two bright spots in his + cheeks showed that he had felt a good deal in writing it, and the flush + returned as he listened to his own thoughts. Poor old fellow! The “cracked + Teacup” of our younger wits,—not yet come to their full human + sensibilities,—the “crank” of vulgar tongues, the eccentric, the + seventh son of a seventh son, too often made the butt of thoughtless + pleasantry, was, after all, a fellow-creature, with flesh and blood like + the rest of us. The wild freaks of his fancy did not hurt us, nor did they + prevent him from seeing many things justly, and perhaps sometimes more + vividly and acutely than if he were as sound as the dullest of us. + </p> + <p> + The teaspoons tinkled loudly all round the table, as he finished reading. + The Mistress caught her breath. I was afraid she was going to sob, but she + took it out in vigorous stirring of her tea. Will you believe that I saw + Number Five, with a sweet, approving smile on her face all the time, brush + her cheek with her hand-kerchief? There must have been a tear stealing + from beneath its eyelid. I hope Number Seven saw it. He is one of the two + men at our table who most need the tender looks and tones of a woman. The + Professor and I are hors de combat; the Counsellor is busy with his cases + and his ambitions; the Doctor is probably in love with a microscope, and + flirting with pathological specimens; but Number Seven and the Tutor are, + I fear, both suffering from that worst of all famines, heart-hunger. + </p> + <p> + Do you remember that Number Seven said he never wrote a line of “poetry” + in his life, except once when he was suffering from temporary weakness of + body and mind? That is because he is a poet. If he had not been one, he + would very certainly have taken to tinkling rhymes. What should you think + of the probable musical genius of a young man who was particularly fond of + jingling a set of sleigh-bells? Should you expect him to turn out a Mozart + or a Beethoven? Now, I think I recognize the poetical instinct in Number + Seven, however imperfect may be its expression, and however he may be run + away with at times by fantastic notions that come into his head. If fate + had allotted him a helpful companion in the shape of a loving and + intelligent wife, he might have been half cured of his eccentricities, and + we should not have had to say, in speaking of him, “Poor fellow!” But + since this cannot be, I am pleased that he should have been so kindly + treated on the occasion of the reading of his paper. If he saw Number + Five's tear, he will certainly fall in love with her. No matter if he does + Number Five is a kind of Circe who does not turn the victims of her + enchantment into swine, but into lambs. I want to see Number Seven one of + her little flock. I say “little.” I suspect it is larger than most of us + know. Anyhow, she can spare him sympathy and kindness and encouragement + enough to keep him contented with himself and with her, and never miss the + pulses of her loving life she lends him. It seems to be the errand of some + women to give many people as much happiness as they have any right to in + this world. If they concentrated their affection on one, they would give + him more than any mortal could claim as his share. I saw Number Five + watering her flowers, the other day. The watering-pot had one of those + perforated heads, through which the water runs in many small streams. + Every plant got its share: the proudest lily bent beneath the gentle + shower; the lowliest daisy held its little face up for baptism. All were + refreshed, none was flooded. Presently she took the perforated head, or + “rose,” from the neck of the watering-pot, and the full stream poured out + in a round, solid column. It was almost too much for the poor geranium on + which it fell, and it looked at one minute as if the roots would be laid + bare, and perhaps the whole plant be washed out of the soil in which it + was planted. What if Number Five should take off the “rose” that sprinkles + her affections on so many, and pour them all on one? Can that ever be? If + it can, life is worth living for him on whom her love may be lavished. + </p> + <p> + One of my neighbors, a thorough American, is much concerned about the + growth of what he calls the “hard-handed aristocracy.” He tells the + following story:— + </p> + <p> + “I was putting up a fence about my yard, and employed a man of whom I knew + something,—that he was industrious, temperate, and that he had a + wife and children to support,—a worthy man, a native New Englander. + I engaged him, I say, to dig some post-holes. My employee bought a new + spade and scoop on purpose, and came to my place at the appointed time, + and began digging. While he was at work, two men came over from a + drinking-saloon, to which my residence is nearer than I could desire. One + of them I had known as Mike Fagan, the other as Hans Schleimer. They + looked at Hiram, my New Hampshire man, in a contemptuous and threatening + way for a minute or so, when Fagan addressed him: + </p> + <p> + “'And how much does the man pay yez by the hour?' + </p> + <p> + “'The gentleman does n't pay me by the hour,' said Hiram. + </p> + <p> + “'How mosh does he bay you by der veeks?' said Hans. + </p> + <p> + “'I don' know as that's any of your business,' answered Hiram. + </p> + <p> + “'Faith, we'll make it our business,' said Mike Fagan. 'We're Knoights of + Labor, we'd have yez to know, and ye can't make yer bargains jist as ye + loikes. We manes to know how mony hours ye worrks, and how much ye gets + for it.' + </p> + <p> + “'Knights of Labor!' said I. 'Why, that is a kind of title of nobility, is + n't it? I thought the laws of our country did n't allow titles of that + kind. But if you have a right to be called knights, I suppose I ought to + address you as such. Sir Michael, I congratulate you on the dignity you + have attained. I hope Lady Fagan is getting on well with my shirts. Sir + Hans, I pay my respects to your title. I trust that Lady Schleixner has + got through that little difficulty between her ladyship and yourself in + which the police court thought it necessary to intervene.' + </p> + <p> + “The two men looked at me. I weigh about a hundred and eighty pounds, and + am well put together. Hiram was noted in his village as a 'rahstler.' But + my face is rather pallid and peaked, and Hiram had something of the + greenhorn look. The two men, who had been drinking, hardly knew what + ground to take. They rather liked the sound of Sir Michael and, Sir Hans. + They did not know very well what to make of their wives as 'ladies.' They + looked doubtful whether to take what had been said as a casus belli or + not, but they wanted a pretext of some kind or other. Presently one of + them saw a label on the scoop, or longhandled, spoon-like shovel, with + which Hiram had been working. + </p> + <p> + “'Arrah, be jabers!' exclaimed Mike Fagan, 'but has n't he been a-tradin' + wid Brown, the hardware fellah, that we boycotted! Grab it, Hans, and + we'll carry it off and show it to the brotherhood.' + </p> + <p> + “The men made a move toward the implement. + </p> + <p> + “'You let that are scoop-shovel alone,' said Hiram. + </p> + <p> + “I stepped to his side. The Knights were combative, as their noble + predecessors with the same title always were, and it was necessary to come + to a voie de fait. My straight blow from the shoulder did for Sir Michael. + Hiram treated Sir Hans to what is technically known as a cross-buttock. + </p> + <p> + “'Naow, Dutchman,' said Hiram, 'if you don't want to be planted in that + are post-hole, y'd better take y'rself out o' this here piece of private + property. “Dangerous passin,” as the sign-posts say, abaout these times.' + </p> + <p> + “Sir Michael went down half stunned by my expressive gesture; Sir Hans did + not know whether his hip was out of joint or he had got a bad sprain; but + they were both out of condition for further hostilities. Perhaps it was + hardly fair to take advantage of their misfortunes to inflict a discourse + upon them, but they had brought it on themselves, and we each of us gave + them a piece of our mind. + </p> + <p> + “'I tell you what it is,' said Hiram, 'I'm a free and independent American + citizen, and I an't a-gon' to hev no man tyrannize over me, if he doos + call himself by one o' them noblemen's titles. Ef I can't work jes' as I + choose, fur folks that wants me to work fur 'em and that I want to work + fur, I might jes' as well go to Sibery and done with it. My gran'f'ther + fit in Bunker Hill battle. I guess if our folks in them days did n't care + no great abaout Lord Percy and Sir William Haowe, we an't a-gon' to be + scart by Sir Michael Fagan and Sir Hans What 's-his-name, nor no other + fellahs that undertakes to be noblemen, and tells us common folks what we + shall dew an' what we sha'n't. No, sir!' + </p> + <p> + “I took the opportunity to explain to Sir Michael and Sir Hans what it was + our fathers fought for, and what is the meaning of liberty. If these + noblemen did not like the country, they could go elsewhere. If they did + n't like the laws, they had the ballot-box, and could choose new + legislators. But as long as the laws existed they must obey them. I could + not admit that, because they called themselves by the titles the Old World + nobility thought so much of, they had a right to interfere in the + agreements I entered into with my neighbor. I told Sir Michael that if he + would go home and help Lady Fagan to saw and split the wood for her fire, + he would be better employed than in meddling with my domestic + arrangements. I advised Sir Hans to ask Lady Schleimer for her bottle of + spirits to use as an embrocation for his lame hip. And so my two visitors + with the aristocratic titles staggered off, and left us plain, untitled + citizens, Hiram and myself, to set our posts, and consider the question + whether we lived in a free country or under the authority of a + self-constituted order of quasi-nobility.” + </p> + <p> + It is a very curious fact that, with all our boasted “free and equal” + superiority over the communities of the Old World, our people have the + most enormous appetite for Old World titles of distinction. Sir Michael + and Sir Hans belong to one of the most extended of the aristocratic + orders. But we have also “Knights and Ladies of Honor,” and, what is still + grander, “Royal Conclave of Knights and Ladies,” “Royal Arcanum,” and + “Royal Society of Good Fellows,” “Supreme Council,” “Imperial Court,” + “Grand Protector,” and “Grand Dictator,” and so on. Nothing less than + “Grand” and “Supreme” is good enough for the dignitaries of our + associations of citizens. Where does all this ambition for names without + realities come from? Because a Knight of the Garter wears a golden star, + why does the worthy cordwainer, who mends the shoes of his + fellow-citizens, want to wear a tin star, and take a name that had a + meaning as used by the representatives of ancient families, or the men who + had made themselves illustrious by their achievements? + </p> + <p> + It appears to be a peculiarly American weakness. The French republicans of + the earlier period thought the term citizen was good enough for anybody. + At a later period, “Roi Citoyen”—the citizen king was a common title + given to Louis Philippe. But nothing is too grand for the American, in the + way of titles. The proudest of them all signify absolutely nothing. They + do not stand for ability, for public service, for social importance, for + large possessions; but, on the contrary, are oftenest found in connection + with personalities to which they are supremely inapplicable. We can hardly + afford to quarrel with a national habit which, if lightly handled, may + involve us in serious domestic difficulties. The “Right Worshipful” + functionary whose equipage stops at my back gate, and whose services are + indispensable to the health and comfort of my household, is a dignitary + whom I must not offend. I must speak with proper deference to the lady who + is scrubbing my floors, when I remember that her husband, who saws my + wood, carries a string of high-sounding titles which would satisfy a + Spanish nobleman. + </p> + <p> + After all, every people must have its own forms of ostentation, pretence, + and vulgarity. The ancient Romans had theirs, the English and the French + have theirs as well,—why should not we Americans have ours? Educated + and refined persons must recognize frequent internal conflicts between the + “Homo sum” of Terence and the “Odi profanum vulgus” of Horace. The nobler + sentiment should be that of every true American, and it is in that + direction that our best civilization is constantly tending. + </p> + <p> + We were waited on by a new girl, the other evening. Our pretty maiden had + left us for a visit to some relative,—so the Mistress said. I do + sincerely hope she will soon come back, for we all like to see her + flitting round the table. + </p> + <p> + I don't know what to make of it. I had it all laid out in my mind. With + such a company there must be a love-story. Perhaps there will be, but + there may be new combinations of the elements which are to make it up, and + here is a bud among the full-blown flowers to which I must devote a little + space. + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Delilah. +</pre> + <p> + I must call her by the name we gave her after she had trimmed the Samson + locks of our Professor. Delilah is a puzzle to most of us. A pretty + creature, dangerously pretty to be in a station not guarded by all the + protective arrangements which surround the maidens of a higher social + order. It takes a strong cage to keep in a tiger or a grizzly bear, but + what iron bars, what barbed wires, can keep out the smooth and subtle + enemy that finds out the cage where beauty is imprisoned? Our young Doctor + is evidently attracted by the charming maiden who serves him and us so + modestly and so gracefully. Fortunately, the Mistress never loses sight of + her. If she were her own daughter, she could not be more watchful of all + her movements. And yet I do not believe that Delilah needs all this + overlooking. If I am not mistaken, she knows how to take care of herself, + and could be trusted anywhere, in any company, without a duenna. She has a + history,—I feel sure of it. She has been trained and taught as young + persons of higher position in life are brought up, and does not belong in + the humble station in which we find her. But inasmuch as the Mistress says + nothing about her antecedents, we do not like to be too inquisitive. The + two Annexes are, it is plain, very curious about her. I cannot wonder. + They are both good-looking girls, but Delilah is prettier than either of + them. My sight is not so good as it was, but I can see the way in which + the eyes of the young people follow each other about plainly enough to set + me thinking as to what is going on in the thinking marrow behind them. The + young Doctor's follow Delilah as she glides round the table,—they + look into hers whenever they get a chance; but the girl's never betray any + consciousness of it, so far as I can see. There is no mistaking the + interest with which the two, Annexes watch all this. Why shouldn't they, I + should like to know? The Doctor is a bright young fellow, and wants + nothing but a bald spot and a wife to find himself in a comfortable family + practice. One of the Annexes, as I have said, has had thoughts of becoming + a doctress. I don't think the Doctor would want his wife to practise + medicine, for reasons which I will not stop to mention. Such a partnership + sometimes works wonderfully well, as in one well-known instance where + husband and wife are both eminent in the profession; but our young Doctor + has said to me that he had rather see his wife,—if he ever should + have one,—at the piano than at the dissecting-table. Of course the + Annexes know nothing about this, and they may think, as he professed + himself willing to lecture on medicine to women, he might like to take one + of his pupils as a helpmeet. + </p> + <p> + If it were not for our Delilah's humble position, I don't see why she + would not be a good match for any young man. But then it is so hard to + take a young woman from so very lowly a condition as that of a “waitress” + that it would require a deal of courage to venture on such a step. If we + could only find out that she is a princess in disguise, so to speak,—that + is, a young person of presentable connections as well as pleasing looks + and manners; that she has had an education of some kind, as we suspected + when she blushed on hearing herself spoken of as a “gentille petite,” why, + then everything would be all right, the young Doctor would have plain + sailing,—that is, if he is in love with her, and if she fancies him,—and + I should find my love-story,—the one I expected, but not between the + parties I had thought would be mating with each other. + </p> + <p> + Dear little Delilah! Lily of the valley, growing in the shade now,—perhaps + better there until her petals drop; and yet if she is all I often fancy + she is, how her youthful presence would illuminate and sweeten a + household! There is not one of us who does not feel interested in her,—not + one of us who would not be delighted at some Cinderella transformation + which would show her in the setting Nature meant for her favorite. + </p> + <p> + The fancy of Number Seven about the witches' broomsticks suggested to one + of us the following poem: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + THE BROOMSTICK TRAIN; + OR, THE RETURN OF THE WITCHES. + + Lookout! Look out, boys! Clear the track! + The witches are here! They've all come back! + They hanged them high,—No use! No use! + What cares a witch for a hangman's noose? + They buried them deep, but they would n't lie, still, + For cats and witches are hard to kill; + They swore they shouldn't and wouldn't die, + Books said they did, but they lie! they lie! + + —A couple of hundred years, or so, + They had knocked about in the world below, + When an Essex Deacon dropped in to call, + And a homesick feeling seized them all; + For he came from a place they knew full well, + And many a tale he had to tell. + They long to visit the haunts of men, + To see the old dwellings they knew again, + And ride on their broomsticks all around + Their wide domain of unhallowed ground. + + In Essex county there's many a roof + Well known to him of the cloven hoof; + The small square windows are full in view + Which the midnight hags went sailing through, + On their well-trained broomsticks mounted high, + Seen like shadows against the sky; + Crossing the track of owls and bats, + Hugging before them their coal-black cats. + + Well did they know, those gray old wives, + The sights we see in our daily drives + Shimmer of lake and shine of sea, + Brown's bare hill with its lonely tree, + (It wasn't then as we see it now, + With one scant scalp-lock to shade its brow;) + Dusky nooks in the Essex woods, + Dark, dim, Dante-like solitudes, + Where the tree-toad watches the sinuous snake + Glide through his forests of fern and brake; + Ipswich River; its old stone bridge; + Far off Andover's Indian Ridge, + And many a scene where history tells + Some shadow of bygone terror dwells, + Of “Norman's Woe” with its tale of dread, + Of the Screeching Woman of Marblehead, + (The fearful story that turns men pale + Don't bid me tell it,—my speech would fail.) + + Who would not, will not, if he can, + Bathe in the breezes of fair Cape Ann, + Rest in the bowers her bays enfold, + Loved by the sachems and squaws of old? + Home where the white magnolias bloom, + Sweet with the bayberry's chaste perfume, + Hugged by the woods and kissed by the seal + Where is the Eden like to thee? + + For that “couple of hundred years, or so,” + There had been no peace in the world below; + The witches still grumbling, “It is n't fair; + Come, give us a taste of the upper air! + We've had enough of your sulphur springs, + And the evil odor that round them clings; + We long for a drink that is cool and nice, + Great buckets of water with Wenham ice; + We've served you well up-stairs, you know; + You're a good old-fellow—come, let us go!” + + I don't feel sure of his being good, + But he happened to be in a pleasant mood, + As fiends with their skins full sometimes are, + (He'd been drinking with “roughs” at a Boston bar.) + So what does he do but up and shout + To a graybeard turnkey, “Let 'em out!” + + To mind his orders was all he knew; + The gates swung open, and out they flew. + “Where are our broomsticks?” the beldams cried. + “Here are your broomsticks,” an imp replied. + “They've been in—the place you know—so long + They smell of brimstone uncommon strong; + But they've gained by being left alone, + Just look, and you'll see how tall they've grown.” + —And where is my cat? “a vixen squalled. + Yes, where are our cats?” the witches bawled, + And began to call them all by name: + As fast as they called the cats, they came + There was bob-tailed Tommy and long-tailed Tim, + And wall-eyed Jacky and green-eyed Jim, + And splay-foot Benny and slim-legged Beau, + And Skinny and Squally, and Jerry and Joe, + + And many another that came at call, + It would take too long to count them all. + All black,—one could hardly tell which was which, + But every cat knew his own old witch; + And she knew hers as hers knew her, + Ah, did n't they curl their tails and purr! + + No sooner the withered hags were free + Than out they swarmed for a midnight spree; + I could n't tell all they did in rhymes, + But the Essex people had dreadful times. + The Swampscott fishermen still relate + How a strange sea-monster stole thair bait; + How their nets were tangled in loops and knots, + And they found dead crabs in their lobster-pots. + Poor Danvers grieved for her blasted crops, + And Wilmington mourned over mildewed hops. + A blight played havoc with Beverly beans, + It was all the work of those hateful queans! + A dreadful panic began at “Pride's,” + Where the witches stopped in their midnight rides, + And there rose strange rumors and vague alarms + 'Mid the peaceful dwellers at Beverly Farms. + + Now when the Boss of the Beldams found + That without his leave they were ramping round, + He called,—they could hear him twenty miles, + From Chelsea beach to the Misery Isles; + The deafest old granny knew his tone + Without the trick of the telephone. + “Come here, you witches! Come here!” says he, + —“At your games of old, without asking me + I'll give you a little job to do + That will keep you stirring, you godless crew!” + + They came, of course, at their master's call, + The witches, the broomsticks, the cats, and all; + He led the hags to a railway train + The horses were trying to drag in vain. + “Now, then,” says he, “you've had your fun, + And here are the cars you've got to run. + + “The driver may just unhitch his team, + We don't want horses, we don't want steam; + You may keep your old black cats to hug, + But the loaded train you've got to lug.” + + Since then on many a car you'll see + A broomstick plain as plain can be; + On every stick there's a witch astride, + The string you see to her leg is tied. + She will do a mischief if she can, + But the string is held by a careful man, + And whenever the evil-minded witch + Would cut come caper, he gives a twitch. + As for the hag, you can't see her, + But hark! you can hear her black cat's purr, + And now and then, as a car goes by, + You may catch a gleam from her wicked eye. + + Often you've looked on a rushing train, + But just what moved it was not so plain. + It couldn't be those wires above, + For they could neither pull nor shove; + Where was the motor that made it go + You couldn't guess, but now you know. + + Remember my rhymes when you ride again + On the rattling rail by the broomstick train! +</pre> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0013" id="link2H_4_0013"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + X + </h2> + <p> + In my last report of our talks over the teacups I had something to say of + the fondness of our people for titles. Where did the anti-republican, + anti-democratic passion for swelling names come from, and how long has it + been naturalized among us? + </p> + <p> + A striking instance of it occurred at about the end of the last century. + It was at that time there appeared among us one of the most original and + singular personages to whom America has given birth. Many of our company,—many + of my readers,—all well acquainted with his name, and not wholly + ignorant of his history. They will not object to my giving some + particulars relating to him, which, if not new to them, will be new to + others into whose hands these pages may fall. + </p> + <p> + Timothy Dexter, the first claimant of a title of nobility among the people + of the United States of America, was born in the town of Malden, near + Boston. He served an apprenticeship as a leather-dresser, saved some + money, got some more with his wife, began trading and speculating, and + became at last rich, for those days. His most famous business enterprise + was that of sending an invoice of warming-pans to the West Indies. A few + tons of ice would have seemed to promise a better return; but in point of + fact, he tells us, the warming-pans were found useful in the manufacture + of sugar, and brought him in a handsome profit. His ambition rose with his + fortune. He purchased a large and stately house in Newburyport, and + proceeded to embellish and furnish it according to the dictates of his + taste and fancy. In the grounds about his house, he caused to be erected + between forty and fifty wooden statues of great men and allegorical + figures, together with four lions and one lamb. Among these images were + two statues of Dexter himself, one of which held a label with a + characteristic inscription. His house was ornamented with minarets, + adorned with golden balls, and surmounted by a large gilt eagle. He + equipped it with costly furniture, with paintings, and a library. He went + so far as to procure the services of a poet laureate, whose business it + seems to have been to sing his praises. Surrounded with splendors like + these, the plain title of “Mr.” Dexter would have been infinitely too mean + and common. He therefore boldly took the step of self-ennobling, and gave + himself forth—as he said, obeying “the voice of the people at large”—as + “Lord Timothy Dexter,” by which appellation he has ever since been known + to the American public. + </p> + <p> + If to be the pioneer in the introduction of Old World titles into + republican America can confer a claim to be remembered by posterity, Lord + Timothy Dexter has a right to historic immortality. If the true American + spirit shows itself most clearly in boundless self-assertion, Timothy + Dexter is the great original American egotist. If to throw off the + shackles of Old World pedantry, and defy the paltry rules and examples of + grammarians and rhetoricians, is the special province and the chartered + privilege of the American writer, Timothy Dexter is the founder of a new + school, which tramples under foot the conventionalities that hampered and + subjugated the faculties of the poets, the dramatists, the historians, + essayists, story-tellers, orators, of the worn-out races which have + preceded the great American people. + </p> + <p> + The material traces of the first American nobleman's existence have nearly + disappeared. The house is still standing, but the statues, the minarets, + the arches, and the memory of the great Lord Timothy Dexter live chiefly + in tradition, and in the work which he bequeathed to posterity, and of + which I shall say a few words. It is unquestionably a thoroughly original + production, and I fear that some readers may think I am trifling with them + when I am quoting it literally. I am going to make a strong claim for Lord + Timothy as against other candidates for a certain elevated position. + </p> + <p> + Thomas Jefferson is commonly recognized as the first to proclaim before + the world the political independence of America. It is not so generally + agreed upon as to who was the first to announce the literary emancipation + of our country. + </p> + <p> + One of Mr. Emerson's biographers has claimed that his Phi Beta Kappa + Oration was our Declaration of Literary Independence. But Mr. Emerson did + not cut himself loose from all the traditions of Old World scholarship. He + spelled his words correctly, he constructed his sentences grammatically. + He adhered to the slavish rules of propriety, and observed the reticences + which a traditional delicacy has considered inviolable in decent society, + European and Oriental alike. When he wrote poetry, he commonly selected + subjects which seemed adapted to poetical treatment,—apparently + thinking that all things were not equally calculated to inspire the true + poet's genius. Once, indeed, he ventured to refer to “the meal in the + firkin, the milk in the pan,” but he chiefly restricted himself to + subjects such as a fastidious conventionalism would approve as having a + certain fitness for poetical treatment. He was not always so careful as he + might have been in the rhythm and rhyme of his verse, but in the main he + recognized the old established laws which have been accepted as regulating + both. In short, with all his originality, he worked in Old World harness, + and cannot be considered as the creator of a truly American, + self-governed, self-centred, absolutely independent style of thinking and + writing, knowing no law but its own sovereign will and pleasure. + </p> + <p> + A stronger claim might be urged for Mr. Whitman. He takes into his + hospitable vocabulary words which no English dictionary recognizes as + belonging to the language,—words which will be looked for in vain + outside of his own pages. He accepts as poetical subjects all things + alike, common and unclean, without discrimination, miscellaneous as the + contents of the great sheet which Peter saw let down from heaven. He + carries the principle of republicanism through the whole world of created + objects. He will “thread a thread through [his] poems,” he tells us, “that + no one thing in the universe is inferior to another thing.” No man has + ever asserted the surpassing dignity and importance of the American + citizen so boldly and freely as Mr. Whitman. He calls himself “teacher of + the unquenchable creed, namely, egotism.” He begins one of his chants, “I + celebrate myself,” but he takes us all in as partners in his + self-glorification. He believes in America as the new Eden. + </p> + <p> + “A world primal again,—vistas of glory incessant and branching, A + new race dominating previous ones and grander far, New politics—new + literature and religions—new inventions and arts.” + </p> + <p> + Of the new literature be himself has furnished specimens which certainly + have all the originality he can claim for them. So far as egotism is + concerned, he was clearly anticipated by the titled personage to whom I + have referred, who says of himself, “I am the first in the East, the first + in the West, and the greatest philosopher in the Western world.” But while + Mr. Whitman divests himself of a part of his baptismal name, the + distinguished New Englander thus announces his proud position: “Ime the + first Lord in the younited States of A mercary Now of Newburyport. it is + the voice of the peopel and I cant Help it.” This extract is from his + famous little book called “A Pickle for the Knowing Ones.” As an inventor + of a new American style he goes far beyond Mr. Whitman, who, to be sure, + cares little for the dictionary, and makes his own rules of rhythm, so far + as there is any rhythm in his sentences. But Lord Timothy spells to suit + himself, and in place of employing punctuation as it is commonly used, + prints a separate page of periods, colons, semicolons, commas, notes of + interrogation and of admiration, with which the reader is requested to + “peper and soolt” the book as he pleases. + </p> + <p> + I am afraid that Mr. Emerson and Mr. Whitman must yield the claim of + declaring American literary independence to Lord Timothy Dexter, who not + only taught his countrymen that they need not go to the Heralds' College + to authenticate their titles of nobility, but also that they were at + perfect liberty to spell just as they liked, and to write without + troubling themselves about stops of any kind. In writing what I suppose he + intended for poetry, he did not even take the pains to break up his lines + into lengths to make them look like verse, as may be seen by the following + specimen: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + WONDER OF WONDERS! +</pre> + <p> + How great the soul is! Do not you all wonder and admire to see and behold + and hear? Can you all believe half the truth, and admire to hear the + wonders how great the soul is—only behold—past finding out! + Only see how large the soul is! that if a man is drowned in the sea what a + great bubble comes up out of the top of the water... The bubble is the + soul. + </p> + <p> + I confess that I am not in sympathy with some of the movements that + accompany the manifestations of American social and literary independence. + I do not like the assumption of titles of Lords and Knights by plain + citizens of a country which prides itself on recognizing simple manhood + and womanhood as sufficiently entitled to respect without these + unnecessary additions. I do not like any better the familiar, and as it + seems to me rude, way of speaking of our fellow-citizens who are entitled + to the common courtesies of civilized society. I never thought it + dignified or even proper for a President of the United States to call + himself, or to be called by others, “Frank” Pierce. In the first place I + had to look in a biographical dictionary to find out whether his baptismal + name was Franklin, or Francis, or simply Frank, for I think children are + sometimes christened with this abbreviated name. But it is too much in the + style of Cowper's unpleasant acquaintance: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + “The man who hails you Tom or Jack, + And proves by thumping on your back + How he esteems your merit.” + </pre> + <p> + I should not like to hear our past chief magistrates spoken of as Jack + Adams or Jim Madison, and it would have been only as a political partisan + that I should have reconciled myself to “Tom” Jefferson. So, in spite of + “Ben” Jonson, “Tom” Moore, and “Jack” Sheppard, I prefer to speak of a + fellow-citizen already venerable by his years, entitled to respect by + useful services to his country, and recognized by many as the prophet of a + new poetical dispensation, with the customary title of adults rather than + by the free and easy school-boy abbreviation with which he introduced + himself many years ago to the public. As for his rhapsodies, Number Seven, + our “cracked Teacup,” says they sound to him like “fugues played on a big + organ which has been struck by lightning.” So far as concerns literary + independence, if we understand by that term the getting rid of our + subjection to British criticism, such as it was in the days when the + question was asked, “Who reads an American book?” we may consider it + pretty well established. If it means dispensing with punctuation, coining + words at will, self-revelation unrestrained by a sense of what is + decorous, declamations in which everything is glorified without being + idealized, “poetry” in which the reader must make the rhythms which the + poet has not made for him, then I think we had better continue literary + colonists. I shrink from a lawless independence to which all the virile + energy and trampling audacity of Mr. Whitman fail to reconcile me. But + there is room for everybody and everything in our huge hemisphere. Young + America is like a three-year-old colt with his saddle and bridle just + taken off. The first thing he wants to do is to roll. He is a droll + object, sprawling in the grass with his four hoofs in the air; but he + likes it, and it won't harm us. So let him roll,—let him roll. + </p> + <p> + Of all The Teacups around our table, Number Five is the one who is the + object of the greatest interest. Everybody wants to be her friend, and she + has room enough in her hospitable nature to find a place for every one who + is worthy of the privilege. The difficulty is that it is so hard to be her + friend without becoming her lover. I have said before that she turns the + subjects of her Circe-like enchantment, not into swine, but into lambs. + The Professor and I move round among her lambs, the docile and amiable + flock that come and go at her bidding, that follow her footsteps, and are + content to live in the sunshine of her smile and within reach of the music + of her voice. I like to get her away from their amiable bleatings; I love + to talk with her about life, of which she has seen a great deal, for she + knows what it is to be an idol in society and the centre of her social + circle. It might be a question whether women or men most admire and love + her. With her own sex she is always helpful, sympathizing, tender, + charitable, sharing their griefs as well as taking part in their + pleasures. With men it has seemed to make little difference whether they + were young or old: all have found her the same sweet, generous, unaffected + companion; fresh enough in feeling for the youngest, deep enough in the + wisdom of the heart for the oldest. She does not pretend to be youthful, + nor does she trouble herself that she has seen the roses of more Junes + than many of—the younger women who gather round her. She has not had + to say, + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Comme je regrette + Mon bras si dodu, +</pre> + <p> + for her arm has never lost its roundness, and her face is one of those + that cannot be cheated of their charm even if they live long enough to + look upon the grown up grandchildren of their coevals. + </p> + <p> + It is a wonder how Number Five can find the time to be so much to so many + friends of both sexes, in spite of the fact that she is one of the most + insatiable of readers. She not only reads, but she remembers; she not only + remembers, but she records, for her own use and pleasure, and for the + delight and profit of those who are privileged to look over her + note-books. Number Five, as I think I have said before, has not the + ambition to figure as an authoress. That she could write most agreeably is + certain. I have seen letters of hers to friends which prove that clearly + enough. Whether she would find prose or verse the most natural mode of + expression I cannot say, but I know she is passionately fond of poetry, + and I should not be surprised if, laid away among the pressed pansies and + roses of past summers, there were poems, songs, perhaps, of her own, which + she sings to herself with her fingers touching the piano; for to that she + tells her secrets in tones sweet as the ring-dove's call to her mate. + </p> + <p> + I am afraid it may be suggested that I am drawing Number Five's portrait + too nearly after some model who is unconsciously sitting for it; but have + n't I told you that you must not look for flesh and blood personalities + behind or beneath my Teacups? I am not going to make these so lifelike + that you will be saying, This is Mr. or Miss, or Mrs. So-and-So. My + readers must remember that there are very many pretty, sweet, amiable + girls and women sitting at their pianos, and finding chords to the music + of their heart-strings. If I have pictured Number Five as one of her lambs + might do it, I have succeeded in what I wanted to accomplish. Why don't I + describe her person? If I do, some gossip or other will be sure to say, + “Oh, he means her, of course,” and find a name to match the pronoun. + </p> + <p> + It is strange to see how we are all coming to depend upon the friendly aid + of Number Five in our various perplexities. The Counsellor asked her + opinion in one of those cases where a divorce was too probable, but a + reconciliation was possible. It takes a woman to sound a woman's heart, + and she found there was still love enough under the ruffled waters to + warrant the hope of peace and tranquillity. The young Doctor went to her + for counsel in the case of a hysteric girl possessed with the idea that + she was a born poetess, and covering whole pages of foolscap with + senseless outbursts, which she wrote in paroxysms of wild excitement, and + read with a rapture of self-admiration which there was nothing in her + verses to justify or account for. How sweetly Number Five dealt with that + poor deluded sister in her talk with the Doctor! “Yes,” she said to him, + “nothing can be fuller of vanity, self-worship, and self-deception. But we + must be very gentle with her. I knew a young girl tormented with + aspirations, and possessed by a belief that she was meant for a higher + place than that which fate had assigned her, who needed wholesome advice, + just as this poor young thing does. She did not ask for it, and it was not + offered. Alas, alas! 'no man cared for her soul,'—no man nor woman + either. She was in her early teens, and the thought of her earthly future, + as it stretched out before her, was more than she could bear, and she + sought the presence of her Maker to ask the meaning of her abortive + existence.—We will talk it over. I will help you take care of this + child.” + </p> + <p> + The Doctor was thankful to have her assistance in a case with which he + would have found it difficult to deal if he had been left to, his unaided + judgment, and between them the young girl was safely piloted through the + perilous straits in which she came near shipwreck. + </p> + <p> + I know that it is commonly said of her that every male friend of hers must + become her lover unless he is already lassoed by another. Il fait passer + par l'a. The young Doctor is, I think, safe, for I am convinced that he is + bewitched with Delilah. Since she has left us, he has seemed rather + dejected; I feel sure that he misses her. We all do, but he more seriously + than the rest of us. I have said that I cannot tell whether the Counsellor + is to be counted as one of Number Five's lambs or not, but he evidently + admires her, and if he is not fascinated, looks as if he were very near + that condition. + </p> + <p> + It was a more delicate matter about which the Tutor talked with her. + Something which she had pleasantly said to him about the two Annexes led + him to ask her, more or less seriously, it may be remembered, about the + fitness of either of them to be the wife of a young man in his position. + She talked so sensibly, as it seemed to him, about it that he continued + the conversation, and, shy as he was, became quite easy and confidential + in her company. The Tutor is not only a poet, but is a great reader of the + poetry of many languages. It so happened that Number Five was puzzled, one + day, in reading a sonnet of Petrarch, and had recourse to the Tutor to + explain the difficult passage. She found him so thoroughly instructed, so + clear, so much interested, so ready to impart knowledge, and so happy in + his way of doing it, that she asked him if he would not allow her the + privilege of reading an Italian author under his guidance, now and then. + </p> + <p> + The Tutor found Number Five an apt scholar, and something more than that; + for while, as a linguist, he was, of course, her master, her intelligent + comments brought out the beauties of an author in a way to make the text + seem like a different version. They did not always confine themselves to + the book they were reading. Number Five showed some curiosity about the + Tutor's relations with the two Annexes. She suggested whether it would not + be well to ask one or both of them in to take part in their readings. The + Tutor blushed and hesitated. “Perhaps you would like to ask one of them,” + said Number Five. “Which one shall it be?” “It makes no difference to me + which,” he answered, “but I do not see that we need either.” Number Five + did not press the matter further. So the young Tutor and Number Five read + together pretty regularly, and came to depend upon their meeting over a + book as one of their stated seasons of enjoyment. He is so many years + younger than she is that I do not suppose he will have to pass par la, as + most of her male friends have done. I tell her sometimes that she reminds + me of my Alma Mater, always young, always fresh in her attractions, with + her scholars all round her, many of them graduates, or to graduate sooner + or later. + </p> + <p> + What do I mean by graduates? Why, that they have made love to her, and + would be entitled to her diploma, if she gave a parchment to each one of + them who had had the courage to face the inevitable. About the Counsellor + I am, as I have said, in doubt. Who wrote that “I Like You and I Love + You,” which we found in the sugar-bowl the other day? Was it a graduate + who had felt the “icy dagger,” or only a candidate for graduation who was + afraid of it? So completely does she subjugate those who come under her + influence that I believe she looks upon it as a matter of course that the + fateful question will certainly come, often after a brief acquaintance. + She confessed as much to me, who am in her confidence, and not a candidate + for graduation from her academy. Her graduates—her lambs I called + them—are commonly faithful to her, and though now and then one may + have gone off and sulked in solitude, most of them feel kindly to her, and + to those who have shared the common fate of her suitors. I do really + believe that some of them would be glad to see her captured by any one, if + such there can be, who is worthy of her. She is the best of friends, they + say, but can she love anybody, as so many other women do, or seem to? Why + shouldn't our Musician, who is evidently fond of her company, and sings + and plays duets with her, steal her heart as Piozzi stole that of the + pretty and bright Mrs. Thrale, as so many music-teachers have run away + with their pupils' hearts? At present she seems to be getting along very + placidly and contentedly with her young friend the Tutor. There is + something quite charming in their relations with each other. He knows many + things she does not, for he is reckoned one of the most learned in his + literary specialty of all the young men of his time; and it can be a + question of only a few years when some first-class professorship will be + offered him. She, on the other hand, has so much more experience, so much + more practical wisdom, than he has that he consults her on many every-day + questions, as he did, or made believe do, about that of making love to one + of the two Annexes. I had thought, when we first sat round the tea-table, + that she was good for the bit of romance I wanted; but since she has + undertaken to be a kind of half-maternal friend to the young Tutor, I am + afraid I shall have to give her up as the heroine of a romantic episode. + It would be a pity if there were nothing to commend these papers to those + who take up this periodical but essays, more or less significant, on + subjects more or less interesting to the jaded and impatient readers of + the numberless stories and entertaining articles which crowd the magazines + of this prolific period. A whole year of a tea-table as large as ours + without a single love passage in it would be discreditable to the company. + We must find one, or make one, before the tea-things are taken away and + the table is no longer spread. + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + The Dictator turns preacher. +</pre> + <p> + We have so many light and playful talks over the teacups that some readers + may be surprised to find us taking up the most serious and solemn subject + which can occupy a human intelligence. The sudden appearance among our New + England Protestants of the doctrine of purgatory as a possibility, or even + probability, has startled the descendants of the Puritans. It has + naturally led to a reconsideration of the doctrine of eternal punishment. + It is on that subject that Number Five and I have talked together. I love + to listen to her, for she talks from the promptings of a true woman's + heart. I love to talk to her, for I learn my own thoughts better in that + way than in any other “L'appetit vient en mangeant,” the French saying has + it. “L'esprit vient en causant;” that is, if one can find the right + persons to talk with. + </p> + <p> + The subject which has specially interested Number Five and myself, of + late, was suggested to me in the following way. + </p> + <p> + Some two years ago I received a letter from a clergyman who bears by + inheritance one of the most distinguished names which has done honor to + the American “Orthodox” pulpit. This letter requested of me “a + contribution to a proposed work which was to present in their own language + the views of 'many men of many minds' on the subject of future punishment. + It was in my mind to let the public hear not only from professional + theologians, but from other professions, as from jurists on the alleged + but disputed value of the hangman's whip overhanging the witness-box, and + from physicians on the working of beliefs about the future life in the + minds of the dangerously sick. And I could not help thinking what a good + thing it would be to draw out the present writer upon his favorite + borderland between the spiritual and the material.” The communication came + to me, as the writer reminds me in a recent letter, at a “painfully + inopportune time,” and though it was courteously answered, was not made + the subject of a special reply. + </p> + <p> + This request confers upon me a certain right to express my opinion on this + weighty subject without fear and without reproach even from those who + might be ready to take offence at one of the laity for meddling with + pulpit questions. It shows also that this is not a dead issue in our + community, as some of the younger generation seem to think. There are + some, there may be many, who would like to hear what impressions one has + received on the subject referred to, after a long life in which he has + heard and read a great deal about the matter. There is a certain gravity + in the position of one who is, in the order of nature very near the + undiscovered country. A man who has passed his eighth decade feels as if + he were already in the antechamber of the apartments which he may be + called to occupy in the house of many mansions. His convictions regarding + the future of our race are likely to be serious, and his expressions not + lightly uttered. The question my correspondent suggests is a tremendous + one. No other interest compares for one moment with that belonging to it. + It is not only ourselves that it concerns, but all whom we love or ever + have loved, all our human brotherhood, as well as our whole idea of the + Being who made us and the relation in which He stands to his creatures. In + attempting to answer my correspondent's question, I shall no doubt repeat + many things I have said before in different forms, on different occasions. + This is no more than every clergyman does habitually, and it would be hard + if I could not have the same license which the professional preacher + enjoys so fully. + </p> + <p> + Number Five and I have occasionally talked on religious questions, and + discovered many points of agreement in our views. Both of us grew up under + the old “Orthodox” or Calvinistic system of belief. Both of us accepted it + in our early years as a part of our education. Our experience is a common + one. William Cullen Bryant says of himself, “The Calvinistic system of + divinity I adopted of course, as I heard nothing else taught from the + pulpit, and supposed it to be the accepted belief of the religious world.” + But it was not the “five points” which remained in the young poet's memory + and shaped his higher life. It was the influence of his mother that left + its permanent impression after the questions and answers of the Assembly's + Catechism had faded out, or remained in memory only as fossil survivors of + an extinct or fast-disappearing theological formation. The important point + for him, as for so many other children of Puritan descent, was not his + father's creed, but his mother's character, precepts, and example. “She + was a person,” he says, “of excellent practical sense, of a quick and + sensitive moral judgment, and had no patience with any form of deceit or + duplicity. Her prompt condemnation of injustice, even in those instances + in which it is tolerated by the world, made a strong impression upon me in + early life; and if, in the discussion of public questions, I have in my + riper age endeavored to keep in view the great rule of right without much + regard to persons, it has been owing in a great degree to the force of her + example, which taught me never to countenance a wrong because others did.” + </p> + <p> + I have quoted this passage because it was an experience not wholly unlike + my own, and in certain respects like that of Number Five. To grow up in a + narrow creed and to grow out of it is a tremendous trial of one's nature. + There is always a bond of fellowship between those who have been through + such an ordeal. + </p> + <p> + The experiences we have had in common naturally lead us to talk over the + theological questions which at this time are constantly presenting + themselves to the public, not only in the books and papers expressly + devoted to that class of subjects, but in many of the newspapers and + popular periodicals, from the weeklies to the quarterlies. The pulpit used + to lay down the law to the pews; at the present time, it is of more + consequence what the pews think than what the minister does, for the + obvious reason that the pews can change their minister, and often do, + whereas the minister cannot change the pews, or can do so only to a very + limited extent. The preacher's garment is cut according to the pattern of + that of the hearers, for the most part. Thirty years ago, when I was + writing on theological subjects, I came in for a very pretty share of + abuse, such as it was the fashion of that day, at least in certain + quarters, to bestow upon those who were outside of the high-walled + enclosures in which many persons; not naturally unamiable or exclusive, + found themselves imprisoned. Since that time what changes have taken + place! Who will believe that a well-behaved and reputable citizen could + have been denounced as a “moral parricide,” because he attacked some of + the doctrines in which he was supposed to have been brought up? A single + thought should have prevented the masked theologian who abused his + incognito from using such libellous language. + </p> + <p> + Much, and in many families most, of the religious teaching of children is + committed to the mother. The experience of William Cullen Bryant, which I + have related in his own words, is that of many New England children. Now, + the sternest dogmas that ever came from a soul cramped or palsied by an + obsolete creed become wonderfully softened in passing between the lips of + a mother. The cruel doctrine at which all but case-hardened + “professionals” shudder cones out, as she teaches and illustrates it, as + unlike its original as the milk which a peasant mother gives her babe is + unlike the coarse food which furnishes her nourishment. The virus of a + cursing creed is rendered comparatively harmless by the time it reaches + the young sinner in the nursery. Its effects fall as far short of what + might have been expected from its virulence as the pearly vaccine vesicle + falls short of the terrors of the confluent small-pox. Controversialists + should therefore be careful (for their own sakes, for they hurt nobody so + much as themselves) how they use such terms as “parricide” as + characterizing those who do not agree in all points with the fathers whom + or whose memory they honor and venerate. They might with as much propriety + call them matricides, if they did not agree with the milder teachings of + their mothers. I can imagine Jonathan Edwards in the nursery with his + three-year-old child upon his knee. The child looks up to his face and + says to him,—“Papa, nurse tells me that you say God hates me worse + than He hates one of those horrid ugly snakes that crawl all round. Does + God hate me so?” + </p> + <p> + “Alas! my child, it is but too true. So long as you are out of Christ you + are as a viper, and worse than a viper, in his sight.” + </p> + <p> + By and by, Mrs. Edwards, one of the loveliest of women and sweetest of + mothers, comes into the nursery. The child is crying. + </p> + <p> + “What is the matter, my darling?” + </p> + <p> + “Papa has been telling me that God hates me worse than a snake.” + </p> + <p> + Poor, gentle, poetical, sensitive, spiritual, almost celestial Mrs. + Jonathan Edwards! On the one hand the terrible sentence conceived, written + down, given to the press, by the child's father; on the other side the + trusting child looking up at her, and all the mother pleading in her heart + against the frightful dogma of her revered husband. Do you suppose she + left that poison to rankle in the tender soul of her darling? Would it + have been moral parricide for a son of the great divine to have repudiated + the doctrine which degraded his blameless infancy to the condition and + below the condition of the reptile? Was it parricide in the second or + third degree when his descendant struck out that venomous sentence from + the page in which it stood as a monument to what depth Christian + heathenism could sink under the teaching of the great master of logic and + spiritual inhumanity? It is too late to be angry about the abuse a well—meaning + writer received thirty years ago. The whole atmosphere has changed since + then. It is mere childishness to expect men to believe as their fathers + did; that is, if they have any minds of their own. The world is a whole + generation older and wiser than when the father was of his son's age. + </p> + <p> + So far as I have observed persons nearing the end of life, the Roman + Catholics understand the business of dying better than Protestants. They + have an expert by them, armed with spiritual specifics, in which they + both, patient and priestly ministrant, place implicit trust. Confession, + the Eucharist, Extreme Unction,—these all inspire a confidence which + without this symbolism is too apt to be wanting in over-sensitive natures. + They have been peopled in earlier years with ghastly spectres of avenging + fiends, moving in a sleepless world of devouring flames and smothering + exhalations; where nothing lives but the sinner, the fiends, and the + reptiles who help to make life an unending torture. It is no wonder that + these images sometimes return to the enfeebled intelligence. To exorcise + them, the old Church of Christendom has her mystic formulae, of which no + rationalistic prescription can take the place. If Cowper had been a good + Roman Catholic, instead of having his conscience handled by a Protestant + like John Newton, he would not have died despairing, looking upon himself + as a castaway. I have seen a good many Roman Catholics on their dying + beds, and it always appeared to me that they accepted the inevitable with + a composure which showed that their belief, whether or not the best to + live by, was a better one to die by than most of the harder creeds which + have replaced it. + </p> + <p> + In the more intelligent circles of American society one may question + anything and everything, if he will only do it civilly. We may talk about + eschatology, the science of last things,—or, if you will, the + natural history of the undiscovered country, without offence before + anybody except young children and very old women of both sexes. In our New + England the great Andover discussion and the heretical missionary question + have benumbed all sensibility on this subject as entirely, as completely, + as the new local anaesthetic, cocaine, deadens the sensibility of the part + to which it is applied, so that the eye may have its mote or beam plucked + out without feeling it,—as the novels of Zola and Maupassant have + hardened the delicate nerve-centres of the women who have fed their + imaginations on the food they have furnished. + </p> + <p> + The generally professed belief of the Protestant world as embodied in + their published creeds is that the great mass of mankind are destined to + an eternity of suffering. That this eternity is to be one of bodily pain—of + “torment “—is the literal teaching of Scripture, which has been + literally interpreted by the theologians, the poets, and the artists of + many long ages which followed the acceptance of the recorded legends of + the church as infallible. The doctrine has always been recognized, as it + is now, as a very terrible one. It has found a support in the story of the + fall of man, and the view taken of the relation of man to his Maker since + that event. The hatred of God to mankind in virtue of their “first + disobedience” and inherited depravity is at the bottom of it. The extent + to which that idea was carried is well shown in the expressions I have + borrowed from Jonathan Edwards. According to his teaching,—and he + was a reasoner who knew what he was talking about, what was involved in + the premises of the faith he accepted,—man inherits the curse of God + as his principal birthright. + </p> + <p> + What shall we say to the doctrine of the fall of man as the ground of + inflicting endless misery on the human race? A man to be punished for what + he could not help! He was expected to be called to account for Adam's sin. + It is singular to notice that the reasoning of the wolf with the lamb + should be transferred to the dealings of the Creator with his creatures. + “You stirred the brook up and made my drinking-place muddy.” “But, please + your wolfship, I couldn't do that, for I stirred the water far down the + stream,—below your drinking-place.” “Well, anyhow, your father + troubled it a year or two ago, and that is the same thing.” So the wolf + falls upon the lamb and makes a meal of him. That is wolf logic,—and + theological reasoning. + </p> + <p> + How shall we characterize the doctrine of endless torture as the destiny + of most of those who have lived, and are living, on this planet? I prefer + to let another writer speak of it. Mr. John Morley uses the following + words: “The horrors of what is perhaps the most frightful idea that has + ever corroded human character,—the idea of eternal punishment.” + Sismondi, the great historian, heard a sermon on eternal punishment, and + vowed never again to enter another church holding the same creed. Romanism + he considered a religion of mercy and peace by the side of what the + English call the Reformation.—I mention these protests because I + happen to find them among my notes, but it would be easy to accumulate + examples of the same kind. When Cowper, at about the end of the last + century, said satirically of the minister he was attacking, + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + “He never mentioned hell to ears polite,” + </pre> + <p> + he was giving unconscious evidence that the sense of the barbarism of the + idea was finding its way into the pulpit. When Burns, in the midst of the + sulphurous orthodoxy of Scotland, dared to say, + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + “The fear o' hell 's a hangman's whip + To haud the wretch in order,” + </pre> + <p> + he was only appealing to the common sense and common humanity of his + fellow-countrymen. + </p> + <p> + All the reasoning in the world, all the proof-texts in old manuscripts, + cannot reconcile this supposition of a world of sleepless and endless + torment with the declaration that “God is love.” + </p> + <p> + Where did this “frightful idea” come from? We are surprised, as we grow + older, to find that the legendary hell of the church is nothing more nor + less than the Tartarus of the old heathen world. It has every mark of + coming from the cruel heart of a barbarous despot. Some malignant and + vindictive Sheik, some brutal Mezentius, must have sat for many pictures + of the Divinity. It was not enough to kill his captive enemy, after + torturing him as much as ingenuity could contrive to do it. He escaped at + last by death, but his conqueror could not give him up so easily, and so + his vengeance followed him into the unseen and unknown world. How the + doctrine got in among the legends of the church we are no more bound to + show than we are to account for the intercalation of the “three witnesses” + text, or the false insertion, or false omission, whichever it may be, of + the last twelve verses of the Gospel of St Mark. We do not hang our + grandmothers now, as our ancestors did theirs, on the strength of the + positive command, “Thou shalt not suffer a witch to live.” + </p> + <p> + The simple truth is that civilization has outgrown witchcraft, and is + outgrowing the Christian Tartarus. The pulpit no longer troubles itself + about witches and their evil doings. All the legends in the world could + not arrest the decay of that superstition and all the edicts that grew out + of it. All the stories that can be found in old manuscripts will never + prevent the going out of the fires of the legendary Inferno. It is not + much talked about nowadays to ears polite or impolite. Humanity is shocked + and repelled by it. The heart of woman is in unconquerable rebellion + against it. The more humane sects tear it from their “Bodies of Divinity” + as if it were the flaming shirt of Nessus. A few doctrines with which it + was bound up have dropped or are dropping away from it: the primal curse; + consequential damages to give infinite extension to every transgression of + the law of God; inverting the natural order of relative obligations; + stretching the smallest of finite offenses to the proportions of the + infinite; making the babe in arms the responsible being, and not the + parent who gave it birth and determined its conditions of existence. + </p> + <p> + After a doctrine like “the hangman's whip” has served its purpose,—if + it ever had any useful purpose,—after a doctrine like that of + witchcraft has hanged old women enough, civilization contrives to get rid + of it. When we say that civilization crowds out the old superstitious + legends, we recognize two chief causes. The first is the naked individual + protest; the voice of the inspiration which giveth man understanding. This + shows itself conspicuously in the modern poets. Burns in Scotland, Bryant, + Longfellow, Whittier, in America, preached a new gospel to the successors + of men like Thomas Boston and Jonathan Edwards. In due season, the growth + of knowledge, chiefly under the form of that part of knowledge called + science, so changes the views of the universe that many of its + long-unchallenged legends become no more than nursery tales. The + text-books of astronomy and geology work their way in between the + questions and answers of the time-honored catechisms. The doctrine of + evolution, so far as it is accepted, changes the whole relations of man to + the creative power. It substitutes infinite hope in the place of infinite + despair for the vast majority of mankind. Instead of a shipwreck, from + which a few cabin passengers and others are to be saved in the long-boat, + it gives mankind a vessel built to endure the tempests, and at last to + reach a port where at the worst the passengers can find rest, and where + they may hope for a home better than any which they ever had in their old + country. It is all very well to say that men and women had their choice + whether they would reach the safe harbor or not. + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + “Go to it grandam, child; + Give grandam kingdom, and it grandam will + Give it a plum, a cherry and a fig.” + </pre> + <p> + We know what the child will take. So which course we shall take depends + very much on the way the choice is presented to us, and on what the + chooser is by nature. What he is by nature is not determined by himself, + but by his parentage. “They know not what they do.” In one sense this is + true of every human being. The agent does not know, never can know, what + makes him that which he is. What we most want to ask of our Maker is an + unfolding of the divine purpose in putting human beings into conditions in + which such numbers of them would be sure to go wrong. We want an advocate + of helpless humanity whose task it shall be, in the words of Milton, + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + “To justify the ways of God to man.” + </pre> + <p> + We have heard Milton's argument, but for the realization of his vision of + the time + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + “When Hell itself shall pass away, + And leave her dolorous mansions to the peering day,” + </pre> + <p> + our suffering race must wait in patience. + </p> + <p> + The greater part of the discourse the reader has had before him was + delivered over the teacups one Sunday afternoon. The Mistress looked + rather grave, as if doubtful whether she ought not to signify her + disapprobation of what seemed to her dangerous doctrine. + </p> + <p> + However, as she knew that I was a good church-goer and was on the best + terms with her minister, she said nothing to show that she had taken the + alarm. Number Five listened approvingly. We had talked the question over + well, and were perfectly agreed on the main point. How could it be + otherwise? Do you suppose that any intellectual, spiritual woman, with a + heart under her bodice, can for a moment seriously believe that the + greater number of the high-minded men, the noble and lovely women, the + ingenuous and affectionate children, whom she knows and honors or loves, + are to be handed over to the experts in a great torture-chamber, in + company with the vilest creatures that have once worn human shape? + </p> + <p> + “If there is such a world as used to be talked about from the pulpit, you + may depend upon it,” she said to me once, “there will soon be organized a + Humane Society in heaven, and a mission established among 'the spirits in + prison.'” + </p> + <p> + Number Five is a regular church-goer, as I am. I do not believe either of + us would darken the doors of a church if we were likely to hear any of the + “old-fashioned” sermons, such as I used to listen to in former years from + a noted clergyman, whose specialty was the doctrine of eternal punishment. + But you may go to the churches of almost any of our Protestant + denominations, and hear sermons by which you can profit, because the + ministers are generally good men, whose moral and spiritual natures are + above the average, and who know that the harsh preaching of two or three + generations ago would offend and alienate a large part of their audience. + So neither Number Five nor I are hypocrites in attending church or “going + to meeting.” I am afraid it does not make a great deal of difference to + either of us what may be the established creed of the worshipping + assembly. That is a matter of great interest, perhaps of great importance, + to them, but of much less, comparatively, to us. Companionship in worship, + and sitting quiet for an hour while a trained speaker, presumably somewhat + better than we are, stirs up our spiritual nature,—these are reasons + enough to Number Five, as to me, for regular attendance on divine worship. + </p> + <p> + Number Seven is of a different way of thinking and feeling. He insists + upon it that the churches keep in their confessions of faith statements + which they do not believe, and that it is notorious that they are afraid + to meddle with them. The Anglo-American church has dropped the Athanasian + Creed from its service; the English mother church is afraid to. There are + plenty of Universalists, Number Seven says, in the Episcopalian and other + Protestant churches, but they do not avow their belief in any frank and + candid fashion. The churches know very well, he maintains, that the fear + of everlasting punishment more than any or all other motives is the source + of their power and the support of their organizations. Not only are the + fears of mankind the whip to scourge and the bridle to restrain them, but + they are the basis of an almost incalculable material interest. “Talk + about giving up the doctrine of endless punishment by fire!” exclaimed + Number Seven; “there is more capital embarked in the subterranean + fire-chambers than in all the iron-furnaces on the face of the earth. To + think what an army of clerical beggars would be turned loose on the world, + if once those raging flames were allowed to go out or to calm down! Who + can wonder that the old conservatives draw back startled and almost + frightened at the thought that there may be a possible escape for some + victims whom the Devil was thought to have secured? How many more + generations will pass before Milton's alarming prophecy will find itself + realized in the belief of civilized mankind?” + </p> + <p> + Remember that Number Seven is called a “crank” by many persons, and take + his remarks for just what they are worth, and no more. + </p> + <p> + Out of the preceding conversation must have originated the following poem, + which was found in the common receptacle of these versified contributions: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + TARTARUS. + + While in my simple gospel creed + That “God is Love” so plain I read, + Shall dreams of heathen birth affright + My pathway through the coming night? + Ah, Lord of life, though spectres pale + Fill with their threats the shadowy vale, + With Thee my faltering steps to aid, + How can I dare to be afraid? + + Shall mouldering page or fading scroll + Outface the charter of the soul? + Shall priesthood's palsied arm protect + The wrong our human hearts reject, + And smite the lips whose shuddering cry + Proclaims a cruel creed a lie? + The wizard's rope we disallow + Was justice once,—is murder now! + + Is there a world of blank despair, + And dwells the Omnipresent there? + Does He behold with smile serene + The shows of that unending scene, + Where sleepless, hopeless anguish lies, + And, ever dying, never dies? + + Say, does He hear the sufferer's groan, + And is that child of wrath his own? + O mortal, wavering in thy trust, + Lift thy pale forehead from the dust + The mists that cloud thy darkened eyes + Fade ere they reach the o'erarching skies! + When the blind heralds of despair + Would bid thee doubt a Father's care, + Look up from earth, and read above + On heaven's blue tablet, GOD IS LOVE! +</pre> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0014" id="link2H_4_0014"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + XI + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + The tea is sweetened. +</pre> + <p> + We have been going on very pleasantly of late, each of us pretty well + occupied with his or her special business. The Counsellor has been + pleading in a great case, and several of The Teacups were in the + court-room. I thought, but I will not be certain, that some of his + arguments were addressed to Number Five rather than to the jury,—the + more eloquent passages especially. + </p> + <p> + Our young Doctor seems to me to be gradually getting known in the + neighborhood and beyond it. A member of one of the more influential + families, whose regular physician has gone to Europe, has sent for him to + come and see her, and as the patient is a nervous lady, who has nothing in + particular the matter with her, he is probably in for a good many visits + and a long bill by and by. He has even had a call at a distance of some + miles from home,—at least he has had to hire a conveyance frequently + of late, for he has not yet set up his own horse and chaise. We do not + like to ask him about who his patient may be, but he or she is probably a + person of some consequence, as he is absent several hours on these + out-of-town visits. He may get a good practice before his bald spot makes + its appearance, for I have looked for it many times without as yet seeing + a sign of it. I am sure he must feel encouraged, for he has been very + bright and cheerful of late; and if he sometimes looks at our new handmaid + as if he wished she were Delilah, I do not think he is breaking his heart + about her absence. Perhaps he finds consolation in the company of the two + Annexes, or one of them,—but which, I cannot make out. He is in + consultations occasionally with Number Five, too, but whether + professionally or not I have no means of knowing. I cannot for the life of + me see what Number Five wants of a doctor for herself, so perhaps it is + another difficult case in which her womanly sagacity is called upon to + help him. + </p> + <p> + In the mean time she and the Tutor continue their readings. In fact, it + seems as if these readings were growing more frequent, and lasted longer + than they did at first. There is a little arbor in the grounds connected + with our place of meeting, and sometimes they have gone there for their + readings. Some of The Teacups have listened outside once in a while, for + the Tutor reads well, and his clear voice must be heard in the more + emphatic passages, whether one is expressly listening or not. But besides + the reading there is now and then some talking, and persons talking in an + arbor do not always remember that latticework, no matter how closely the + vines cover it, is not impenetrable to the sound of the human voice. There + was a listener one day,—it was not one of The Teacups, I am happy to + say,—who heard and reported some fragments of a conversation which + reached his ear. Nothing but the profound intimacy which exists between + myself and the individual reader whose eyes are on this page would induce + me to reveal what I was told of this conversation. The first words seem to + have been in reply to some question. + </p> + <p> + “Why, my dear friend, how can you think of such a thing? Do you know—I + am—old enough to be your—[I think she must have been on the + point of saying mother, but that was more than any woman could be expected + to say]—old enough to be your aunt?” + </p> + <p> + “To be sure you are,” answered the Tutor, “and what of it? I have two + aunts, both younger than I am. Your years may be more than mine, but your + life is fuller of youthful vitality than mine is. I never feel so young as + when I have been with you. I don't believe in settling affinities by the + almanac. You know what I have told you more than once; you have n't 'bared + the ice-cold dagger's edge' upon me yet; may I not cherish the”.... + </p> + <p> + What a pity that the listener did not hear the rest of the sentence and + the reply to it, if there was one! The readings went on the same as + before, but I thought that Number Five was rather more silent and more + pensive than she had been. + </p> + <p> + I was much pleased when the American Annex came to me one day and told me + that she and the English Annex were meditating an expedition, in which + they wanted the other Teacups to join. About a dozen miles from us is an + educational institution of the higher grade, where a large number of young + ladies are trained in literature, art, and science, very much as their + brothers are trained in the colleges. Our two young ladies have already + been through courses of this kind in different schools, and are now busy + with those more advanced studies which are ventured upon by only a limited + number of “graduates.” They have heard a good deal about this institution, + but have never visited it. + </p> + <p> + Every year, as the successive classes finish their course, there is a + grand reunion of the former students, with an “exhibition,” as it is + called, in which the graduates of the year have an opportunity of showing + their proficiency in the various branches taught. On that occasion prizes + are awarded for excellence in different departments. It would be hard to + find a more interesting ceremony. These girls, now recognized as young + ladies, are going forth as missionaries of civilization among our busy + people. They are many of them to be teachers, and those who have seen what + opportunities they have to learn will understand their fitness for that + exalted office. Many are to be the wives and mothers of the generation + next coming upon the stage. Young and beautiful, “youth is always + beautiful,” said old Samuel Rogers,—their countenances radiant with + developed intelligence, their complexions, their figures, their movements, + all showing that they have had plenty of outdoor as well as indoor + exercise, and have lived well in all respects, one would like to read on + the wall of the hall where they are assembled,— + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Siste, viator! + Si uxorem requiris, circumspice! +</pre> + <p> + This proposed expedition was a great event in our comparatively quiet + circle. The Mistress, who was interested in the school, undertook to be + the matron of the party. The young Doctor, who knew the roads better than + any of us, was to be our pilot. He arranged it so that he should have the + two Annexes under his more immediate charge. We were all on the lookout to + see which of the two was to be the favored one, for it was pretty well + settled among The Teacups that a wife he must have, whether the bald spot + came or not; he was getting into business, and he could not achieve a + complete success as a bachelor. + </p> + <p> + Number Five and the Tutor seemed to come together as a matter of course. I + confess that I could not help regretting that our pretty Delilah was not + to be one of the party. She always looked so young, so fresh,—she + would have enjoyed the excursion so much, that if she had been still with + us I would have told the Mistress that she must put on her best dress; and + if she had n't one nice enough, I would give her one myself. I thought, + too, that our young Doctor would have liked to have her with us; but he + appeared to be getting along very well with the Annexes, one of whom it + seems likely that he will annex to himself and his fortunes, if she + fancies him, which is not improbable. + </p> + <p> + The organizing of this expedition was naturally a cause of great + excitement among The Teacups. The party had to be arranged in such a way + as to suit all concerned, which was a delicate matter. It was finally + managed in this way: The Mistress was to go with a bodyguard, consisting + of myself, the Professor, and Number Seven, who was good company, with all + his oddities. The young Doctor was to take the two Annexes in a wagon, and + the Tutor was to drive Number Five in a good old-fashioned chaise drawn by + a well-conducted family horse. As for the Musician, he had gone over + early, by special invitation, to take a part in certain musical exercises + which were to have a place in the exhibition. This arrangement appeared to + be in every respect satisfactory. The Doctor was in high spirits, + apparently delighted, and devoting himself with great gallantry to his two + fair companions. The only question which intruded itself was, whether he + might not have preferred the company of one to that of two. But both + looked very attractive in their best dresses: the English Annex, the + rosier and heartier of the two; the American girl, more delicate in + features, more mobile and excitable, but suggesting the thought that she + would tire out before the other. Which of these did he most favor? It was + hard to say. He seemed to look most at the English girl, and yet he talked + more with the American girl. In short, he behaved particularly well, and + neither of the young ladies could complain that she was not attended to. + As to the Tutor and Number Five, their going together caused no special + comment. Their intimacy was accepted as an established fact, and nothing + but the difference in their ages prevented the conclusion that it was + love, and not mere friendship, which brought them together. There was, no + doubt, a strong feeling among many people that Number Five's affections + were a kind of Gibraltar or Ehrenbreitstein, say rather a high table-land + in the region of perpetual, unmelting snow. It was hard for these people + to believe that any man of mortal mould could find a foothold in that + impregnable fortress,—could climb to that height and find the flower + of love among its glaciers. The Tutor and Number Five were both quiet, + thoughtful: he, evidently captivated; she, what was the meaning of her + manner to him? Say that she seemed fond of him, as she might be were he + her nephew,—one for whom she had a special liking. If she had a + warmer feeling than this, she could hardly know how to manage it; for she + was so used to having love made to her without returning it that she would + naturally be awkward in dealing with the new experience. + </p> + <p> + The Doctor drove a lively five-year-old horse, and took the lead. The + Tutor followed with a quiet, steady-going nag; if he had driven the + five-year-old, I would not have answered for the necks of the pair in the + chaise, for he was too much taken up with the subject they were talking + of, to be very careful about his driving. The Mistress and her escort + brought up the rear,—I holding the reins, the Professor at my side, + and Number Seven sitting with the Mistress. + </p> + <p> + We arrived at the institution a little later than we had expected to, and + the students were flocking into the hall, where the Commencement exercises + were to take place, and the medal-scholars were to receive the tokens of + their excellence in the various departments. From our seats we could see + the greater part of the assembly,—not quite all, however of the + pupils. A pleasing sight it was to look upon, this array of young ladies + dressed in white, with their class badges, and with the ribbon of the + shade of blue affected by the scholars of the institution. If Solomon in + all his glory was not to be compared to a lily, a whole bed of lilies + could not be compared to this garden-bed of youthful womanhood. + </p> + <p> + The performances were very much the same as most of us have seen at the + academies and collegiate schools. Some of the graduating class read their + “compositions,” one of which was a poem,—an echo of the prevailing + American echoes, of course, but prettily worded and intelligently read. + Then there was a song sung by a choir of the pupils, led by their + instructor, who was assisted by the Musician whom we count among The + Teacups.—There was something in one of the voices that reminded me + of one I had heard before. Where could it have been? I am sure I cannot + remember. There are some good voices in our village choir, but none so + pure and bird-like as this. A sudden thought came into my head, but I kept + it to myself. I heard a tremulous catching of the breath, something like a + sob, close by me. It was the Mistress,—she was crying. What was she + crying for? It was impressive, certainly, to listen to these young voices, + many of them blending for the last time,—for the scholars were soon + to be scattered all over the country, and some of them beyond its + boundaries,—but why the Mistress was so carried away, I did not + know. She must be more impressible than most of us; yet I thought Number + Five also looked as if she were having a struggle with herself to keep + down some rebellious signs of emotion. + </p> + <p> + The exercises went on very pleasingly until they came to the awarding of + the gold medal of the year and the valedictory, which was to be delivered + by the young lady to whom it was to be presented. The name was called; it + was one not unfamiliar to our ears, and the bearer of it—the Delilah + of our tea-table, Avis as she was known in the school and elsewhere—rose + in her place and came forward, so that for the first time on that day, we + looked upon her. It was a sensation for The Teacups. Our modest, quiet + waiting-girl was the best scholar of her year. We had talked French before + her, and we learned that she was the best French scholar the teacher had + ever had in the school. We had never thought of her except as a pleasing + and well-trained handmaiden, and here she was an accomplished young lady. + </p> + <p> + Avis went through her part very naturally and gracefully, and when it was + finished, and she stood before us with the medal glittering on her breast, + we did not know whether to smile or to cry,—some of us did one, and + some the other.—We all had an opportunity to see her and + congratulate her before we left the institution. The mystery of her six + weeks' serving at our table was easily solved. She had been studying too + hard and too long, and required some change of scene and occupation. She + had a fancy for trying to see if she could support herself as so many + young women are obliged to, and found a place with us, the Mistress only + knowing her secret. + </p> + <p> + “She is to be our young Doctor's wife!” the Mistress whispered to me, and + did some more crying, not for grief, certainly. + </p> + <p> + Whether our young Doctor's long visits to a neighboring town had anything + to do with the fact that Avis was at that institution, whether she was the + patient he visited or not, may be left in doubt. At all events, he had + always driven off in the direction which would carry him to the place + where she was at school. + </p> + <p> + I have attended a large number of celebrations, commencements, banquets, + soirees, and so forth, and done my best to help on a good many of them. In + fact, I have become rather too well known in connection with “occasions,” + and it has cost me no little trouble. I believe there is no kind of + occurrence for which I have not been requested to contribute something in + prose or verse. It is sometimes very hard to say no to the requests. If + one is in the right mood when he or she writes an occasional poem, it + seems as if nothing could have been easier. “Why, that piece run off jest + like ile. I don't bullieve,” the unlettered applicant says to himself, “I + don't bullieve it took him ten minutes to write them verses.” The good + people have no suspicion of how much a single line, a single expression, + may cost its author. The wits used to say that Ropers,—the poet once + before referred to, old Samuel Ropers, author of the Pleasures of Memory + and giver of famous breakfasts,—was accustomed to have straw laid + before the house whenever he had just given birth to a couplet. It is not + quite so bad as that with most of us who are called upon to furnish a + poem, a song, a hymn, an ode for some grand meeting, but it is safe to say + that many a trifling performance has had more good honest work put into it + than the minister's sermon of that week had cost him. If a vessel glides + off the ways smoothly and easily at her launching, it does not mean that + no great pains have been taken to secure the result. Because a poem is an + “occasional” one, it does not follow that it has not taken as much time + and skill as if it had been written without immediate, accidental, + temporary motive. Pindar's great odes were occasional poems, just as much + as our Commencement and Phi Beta Kappa poems are, and yet they have come + down among the most precious bequests of antiquity to modern times. + </p> + <p> + The mystery of the young Doctor's long visits to the neighboring town was + satisfactorily explained by what we saw and heard of his relations with + our charming “Delilah,”—for Delilah we could hardly help calling + her. Our little handmaid, the Cinderella of the teacups, now the princess, + or, what was better, the pride of the school to which she had belonged, + fit for any position to which she might be called, was to be the wife of + our young Doctor. It would not have been the right thing to proclaim the + fact while she was a pupil, but now that she had finished her course of + instruction there was no need of making a secret of the engagement. + </p> + <p> + So we have got our romance, our love-story out of our Teacups, as I hoped + and expected that we should, but not exactly in the quarter where it might + have been looked for. + </p> + <p> + What did our two Annexes say to this unexpected turn of events? They were + good-hearted girls as ever lived, but they were human, like the rest of + us, and women, like some of the rest of us. They behaved perfectly. They + congratulated the Doctor, and hoped he would bring the young lady to the + tea-table where she had played her part so becomingly. It is safe to say + that each of the Annexes world have liked to be asked the lover's last + question by the very nice young man who had been a pleasant companion at + the table and elsewhere to each of them. That same question is the highest + compliment a man can pay a woman, and a woman does not mind having a dozen + or more such compliments to string on the rosary of her remembrances. + Whether either of them was glad, on the whole, that he had not offered + himself to the other in preference to herself would be a mean, shabby + question, and I think altogether too well of you who are reading this + paper to suppose that you would entertain the idea of asking it. + </p> + <p> + It was a very pleasant occasion when the Doctor brought Avis over to sit + with us at the table where she used to stand and wait upon us. We wondered + how we could for a moment have questioned that she was one to be waited + upon, and not made for the humble office which nevertheless she performed + so cheerfully and so well. + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Commencements and other Celebrations, American and English. +</pre> + <p> + The social habits of our people have undergone an immense change within + the past half century, largely in consequence of the vast development of + the means of intercourse between different neighborhoods. + </p> + <p> + Commencements, college gatherings of all kinds, church assemblages, school + anniversaries, town centennials,—all possible occasions for getting + crowds together are made the most of. “'T is sixty years since,”—and + a good many years over,—the time to which my memory extends. The + great days of the year were, Election,—General Election on + Wednesday, and Artillery Election on the Monday following, at which time + lilacs were in bloom and 'lection buns were in order; Fourth of July, when + strawberries were just going out; and Commencement, a grand time of + feasting, fiddling, dancing, jollity, not to mention drunkenness and + fighting, on the classic green of Cambridge. This was the season of melons + and peaches. That is the way our boyhood chronicles events. It was odd + that the literary festival should be turned into a Donnybrook fair, but so + it was when I was a boy, and the tents and the shows and the crowds on the + Common were to the promiscuous many the essential parts of the great + occasion. They had been so for generations, and it was only gradually that + the Cambridge Saturnalia were replaced by the decencies and solemnities of + the present sober anniversary. + </p> + <p> + Nowadays our celebrations smack of the Sunday-school more than of the + dancing-hall. The aroma of the punch-bowl has given way to the milder + flavor of lemonade and the cooling virtues of ice-cream. A strawberry + festival is about as far as the dissipation of our social gatherings + ventures. There was much that was objectionable in those swearing, + drinking, fighting times, but they had a certain excitement for us boys of + the years when the century was in its teens, which comes back to us not + without its fascinations. The days of total abstinence are a great + improvement over those of unlicensed license, but there was a picturesque + element about the rowdyism of our old Commencement days, which had a charm + for the eye of boyhood. My dear old friend,—book-friend, I mean,—whom + I always called Daddy Gilpin (as I find Fitzgerald called Wordsworth, + Daddy Wordsworth),—my old friend Gilpin, I say, considered the + donkey more picturesque in a landscape than the horse. So a village fete + as depicted by Teniers is more picturesque than a teetotal picnic or a + Sabbath-school strawberry festival. Let us be thankful that the vicious + picturesque is only a remembrance, and the virtuous commonplace a reality + of to-day. + </p> + <p> + What put all this into my head is something which the English Annex has + been showing me. Most of my readers are somewhat acquainted with our own + church and village celebrations. They know how they are organized; the + women always being the chief motors, and the machinery very much the same + in one case as in another. Perhaps they would like to hear how such things + are managed in England; and that is just what they may learn from the + pamphlet which was shown me by the English Annex, and of which I will give + them a brief account. + </p> + <p> + Some of us remember the Rev. Mr. Haweis, his lectures and his violin, + which interested and amused us here in Boston a few years ago. Now Mr. + Haweis, assisted by his intelligent and spirited wife, has charge of the + parish of St. James, Westmoreland Street, Marylebone, London. On entering + upon the twenty-fifth year of his incumbency in Marylebone, and the + twenty-eighth of his ministry in the diocese of London, it was thought a + good idea to have an “Evening Conversazione and Fete.” We can imagine just + how such a meeting would be organized in one of our towns. Ministers, + deacons, perhaps a member of Congress, possibly a Senator, and even, + conceivably, his Excellency the Governor, and a long list of ladies lend + their names to give lustre to the occasion. It is all very pleasant, + unpretending, unceremonious, cheerful, well ordered, commendable, but not + imposing. + </p> + <p> + Now look at our Marylebone parish celebration, and hold your breath while + the procession of great names passes before you. You learn at the outset + that it is held UNDER ROYAL PATRONAGE, and read the names of two royal + highnesses, one highness, a prince, and a princess. Then comes a list + before which if you do not turn pale, you must certainly be in the habit + of rouging: three earls, seven lords, three bishops, two generals (one of + them Lord Wolseley), one admiral, four baronets, nine knights, a crowd of + right honorable and honorable ladies (many of them peeresses), and a mob + of other personages, among whom I find Mr. Howells, Bret Harte, and + myself. + </p> + <p> + Perhaps we are disposed to smile at seeing so much made of titles; but + after what we have learned of Lord Timothy Dexter and the high-sounding + names appropriated by many of our own compatriots, who have no more claim + to them than we plain Misters and Misseses, we may feel to them something + as our late friend Mr. Appleton felt to the real green turtle soup set + before him, when he said that it was almost as good as mock. + </p> + <p> + The entertainment on this occasion was of the most varied character. The + programme makes the following announcement: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Friday, 4 July, 18-. + + At 8 P. M. the Doors will Open. + Mr. Haweis will receive his Friends. + The Royal Handbell Ringers will Ring. + The Fish-pond will be Fished. + The Stalls will be Visited. + The Phonograph will Utter. +</pre> + <p> + Refreshments will be called for, and they will come,—Tea, Coffee, + and Cooling Drinks. Spirits will not be called for, from the Vasty Deep or + anywhere else,—nor would they come if they were. + </p> + <p> + At 9.30 Mrs. Haweis will join the assembly. + </p> + <p> + I am particularly delighted with this last feature in the preliminary + announcement. It is a proof of the high regard in which the estimable and + gifted lady who shares her husband's labors is held by the people of their + congregation, and the friends who share in their feelings. It is such a + master stroke of policy, too, to keep back the principal attraction until + the guests must have grown eager for her appearance: I can well imagine + how great a saving it must have been to the good lady's nerves, which were + probably pretty well tried already by the fatigues and responsibilities of + the busy evening. I have a right to say this, for I myself had the honor + of attending a meeting at Mr. Haweis's house, where I was a principal + guest, as I suppose, from the fact of the great number of persons who were + presented to me. The minister must be very popular, for the meeting was a + regular jam,—not quite so tremendous as that greater one, where but + for the aid of Mr. Smalley, who kept open a breathing-space round us, my + companion and myself thought we should have been asphyxiated. + </p> + <p> + The company was interested, as some of my readers maybe, to know what were + the attractions offered to the visitors besides that of meeting the + courteous entertainers and their distinguished guests. I cannot give these + at length, for each part of the show is introduced in the programme with + apt quotations and pleasantries, which enlivened the catalogue. There were + eleven stalls, “conducted on the cooperative principle of division of + profits and interest; they retain the profits, and you take a good deal of + interest, we hope, in their success.” + </p> + <p> + Stall No. 1. Edisoniana, or the Phonograph. Alluded to by the Roman Poet + as Vox, et praeterea nihil. + </p> + <p> + Stall No. 2. Money-changing. + </p> + <p> + Stall No. 3. Programmes and General Enquiries. + </p> + <p> + Stall No. 4. Roses. + </p> + <p> + A rose by any other name, etc. Get one. You can't expect to smell one + without buying it, but you may buy one without smelling it. + </p> + <p> + Stall No. 5. Lasenby Liberty Stall. (I cannot explain this. Probably + articles from Liberty's famous establishment.) + </p> + <p> + Stall No. 6. Historical Costumes and Ceramics. + </p> + <p> + Stall No. 7. The Fish-pond. + </p> + <p> + Stall No. 8. Varieties. + </p> + <p> + Stall No. 9. Bookstall. (Books) “highly recommended for insomnia; friends + we never speak to, and always cut if we want to know them well.” + </p> + <p> + Stall No. 10. Icelandic. + </p> + <p> + Stall No. 11. Call Office. “Mrs. Magnusson, who is devoted to the North + Pole and all its works, will thaw your sympathies, enlighten your minds,” + etc., etc. + </p> + <p> + All you buy may be left at the stalls, ticketed. A duplicate ticket will + be handed to you on leaving. Present your duplicate at the Call Office. + </p> + <p> + At 9.45, First Concert. + </p> + <p> + At 10.45, An Address of Welcome by Rev. H. R. Haweis. + </p> + <p> + At 11 P. M., Bird-warbling Interlude by Miss Mabel Stephenson, U. S. A. + </p> + <p> + At 11.20, Second Concert. + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + NOTICE! +</pre> + <p> + Three Great Pictures. + </p> + <p> + LORD TENNYSON. G. F. Watts, R. A. JOHN STUART MILL G. F. Watts, R. A. + JOSEPH GARIBALDI Sig. Rondi. + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + NOTICE! +</pre> + <p> + A Famous Violin. + </p> + <p> + A world-famed Stradivarius Violin, for which Mr. Hill, of Bond Street, + gave L 1000, etc., etc. + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + REFRESHMENTS. +</pre> + <p> + Tickets for Tea, Coffee, Sandwiches, Iced Drinks, or Ices, Sixpence each, + etc., etc. + </p> + <p> + I hope my American reader is pleased and interested by this glimpse of the + way in which they do these things in London. + </p> + <p> + There is something very pleasant about all this, but what specially + strikes me is a curious flavor of city provincialism. There are little + centres in the heart of great cities, just as there are small fresh-water + ponds in great islands with the salt sea roaring all round them, and bays + and creeks penetrating them as briny as the ocean itself. Irving has given + a charming picture of such a quasi-provincial centre in one of his papers + in the Sketch-Book,—the one with the title “Little Britain.” London + is a nation of itself, and contains provinces, districts, foreign + communities, villages, parishes,—innumerable lesser centres, with + their own distinguishing characteristics, habits, pursuit, languages, + social laws, as much isolated from each other as if “mountains interposed” + made the separation between them. One of these lesser centres is that over + which my friend Mr. Haweis presides as spiritual director. Chelsea has + been made famous as the home of many authors and artists,—above all, + as the residence of Carlyle during the greater part of his life. Its + population, like that of most respectable suburbs, must belong mainly to + the kind of citizens which resembles in many ways the better class,—as + we sometimes dare to call it,—of one of our thriving New England + towns. How many John Gilpins there must be in this population,—citizens + of “famous London town,” but living with the simplicity of the inhabitants + of our inland villages! In the mighty metropolis where the wealth of the + world displays itself they practise their snug economies, enjoy their + simple pleasures, and look upon ice-cream as a luxury, just as if they + were living on the banks of the Connecticut or the Housatonic, in regions + where the summer locusts of the great cities have not yet settled on the + verdure of the native inhabitants. It is delightful to realize the fact + that while the West End of London is flaunting its splendors and the East + End in struggling with its miseries, these great middle-class communities + are living as comfortable, unpretending lives as if they were in one of + our thriving townships in the huckleberry-districts. Human beings are + wonderfully alike when they are placed in similar conditions. + </p> + <p> + We were sitting together in a very quiet way over our teacups. The young + Doctor, who was in the best of spirits, had been laughing and chatting + with the two Annexes. The Tutor, who always sits next to Number Five of + late, had been conversing with her in rather low tones. The rest of us had + been soberly sipping our tea, and when the Doctor and the Annexes stopped + talking there was one of those dead silences which are sometimes so hard + to break in upon, and so awkward while they last. All at once Number Seven + exploded in a loud laugh, which startled everybody at the table. + </p> + <p> + What is it that sets you laughing so? said I. + </p> + <p> + “I was thinking,” Number Seven replied, “of what you said the other day of + poetry being only the ashes of emotion. I believe that some people are + disposed to dispute the proposition. I have been putting your doctrine to + the test. In doing it I made some rhymes,—the first and only ones I + ever made. I will suppose a case of very exciting emotion, and see whether + it would probably take the form of poetry or prose. You are suddenly + informed that your house is on fire, and have to scramble out of it, + without stopping to tie your neck-cloth neatly or to put a flower in your + buttonhole. Do you think a poet turning out in his night-dress, and + looking on while the flames were swallowing his home and all its contents, + would express himself in this style? + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + “My house is on fire! + Bring me my lyre! + Like the flames that rise heavenward my song shall aspire! +</pre> + <p> + “He would n't do any such thing, and you know he wouldn't. He would yell + Fire! Fire! with all his might. Not much rhyming for him just yet! Wait + until the fire is put out, and he has had time to look at the charred + timbers and the ashes of his home, and in the course of a week he may + possibly spin a few rhymes about it. Or suppose he was making an offer of + his hand and heart, do you think he would declaim a versified proposal to + his Amanda, or perhaps write an impromptu on the back of his hat while he + knelt before her? + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + “My beloved, to you + I will always be true. + Oh, pray make me happy, my love, do! do! do! +</pre> + <p> + “What would Amanda think of a suitor who courted her with a rhyming + dictionary in his pocket to help him make love?” + </p> + <p> + You are right, said I,—there's nothing in the world like rhymes to + cool off a man's passion. You look at a blacksmith working on a bit of + iron or steel. Bright enough it looked while it was on the hearth, in the + midst of the sea-coal, the great bellows blowing away, and the rod or the + horse-shoe as red or as white as the burning coals. How it fizzes as it + goes into the trough of water, and how suddenly all the glow is gone! It + looks black and cold enough now. Just so with your passionate + incandescence. It is all well while it burns and scintillates in your + emotional centres, without articulate and connected expression; but the + minute you plunge it into the rhyme-trough it cools down, and becomes as + dead and dull as the cold horse-shoe. It is true that if you lay it cold + on the anvil and hammer away on it for a while it warms up somewhat. Just + so with the rhyming fellow,—he pounds away on his verses and they + warm up a little. But don't let him think that this afterglow of + composition is the same thing as the original passion. That found + expression in a few oh, oh's, eheu's, helas, helas's, and when the passion + had burned itself out you got the rhymed verses, which, as I have said, + are its ashes. + </p> + <p> + I thanked Number Seven for his poetical illustration of my thesis. There + is great good to be got out of a squinting brain, if one only knows how to + profit by it. We see only one side of the moon, you know, but a fellow + with a squinting brain seems now and then to get a peep at the other side. + I speak metaphorically. He takes new and startling views of things we have + always looked at in one particular aspect. There is a rule invariably to + be observed with one of this class of intelligences: Never contradict a + man with a squinting brain. I say a man, because I do not think that + squinting brains are nearly so common in women as they are in men. The + “eccentrics” are, I think, for the most part of the male sex. + </p> + <p> + That leads me to say that persons with a strong instinctive tendency to + contradiction are apt to become unprofitable companions. Our thoughts are + plants that never flourish in inhospitable soils or chilling atmospheres. + They are all started under glass, so to speak; that is, sheltered and + fostered in our own warm and sunny consciousness. They must expect some + rough treatment when we lift the sash from the frame and let the outside + elements in upon them. They can bear the rain and the breezes, and be all + the better for them; but perpetual contradiction is a pelting hailstorm, + which spoils their growth and tends to kill them out altogether. + </p> + <p> + Now stop and consider a moment. Are not almost all brains a little wanting + in bilateral symmetry? Do you not find in persons whom you love, whom you + esteem, and even admire, some marks of obliquity in mental vision? Are + there not some subjects in looking at which it seems to you impossible + that they should ever see straight? Are there not moods in which it seems + to you that they are disposed to see all things out of plumb and in false + relations with each other? If you answer these questions in the + affirmative, then you will be glad of a hint as to the method of dealing + with your friends who have a touch of cerebral strabismus, or are liable + to occasional paroxysms of perversity. Let them have their head. Get them + talking on subjects that interest them. As a rule, nothing is more likely + to serve this purpose than letting them talk about themselves; if authors, + about their writings; if artists, about their pictures or statues; and + generally on whatever they have most pride in and think most of their own + relations with. + </p> + <p> + Perhaps you will not at first sight agree with me in thinking that slight + mental obliquity is as common as I suppose. An analogy may have some + influence on your belief in this matter. Will you take the trouble to ask + your tailor how many persons have their two shoulders of the same height? + I think he will tell you that the majority of his customers show a + distinct difference of height on the two sides. Will you ask a + portrait-painter how many of those who sit to hint have both sides of + their faces exactly alike? I believe he will tell you that one side is + always a little better than the other. What will your hatter say about the + two sides of the head? Do you see equally well with both eyes, and hear + equally well with both ears? Few persons past middle age will pretend that + they do. Why should the two halves of a brain not show a natural + difference, leading to confusion of thought, and very possibly to that + instinct of contradiction of which I was speaking? A great deal of time is + lost in profitless conversation, and a good deal of ill temper frequently + caused, by not considering these organic and practically insuperable + conditions. In dealing with them, acquiescence is the best of palliations + and silence the sovereign specific. + </p> + <p> + I have been the reporter, as you have seen, of my own conversation and + that of the other Teacups. I have told some of the circumstances of their + personal history, and interested, as I hope, here and there a reader in + the fate of different members of our company. Here are our pretty Delilah + and our Doctor provided for. We may take it for granted that it will not + be very long that the young couple will have to wait; for, as I have told + you all, the Doctor is certainly getting into business, and bids fair to + have a thriving practice before he saddles his nose with an eyeglass and + begins to think of a pair of spectacles. So that part of our little + domestic drama is over, and we can only wish the pair that is to be all + manner of blessings consistent with a reasonable amount of health in the + community on whose ailings must depend their prosperity. + </p> + <p> + All our thoughts are now concentrated on the relation existing between + Number Five and the Tutor. That there is some profound instinctive impulse + which is drawing them closer together no one who watches them can for a + moment doubt. There are two principles of attraction which bring different + natures together: that in which the two natures closely resemble each + other, and that in which one is complementary of the other. In the first + case, they coalesce, as do two drops of water or of mercury, and become + intimately blended as soon as they touch; in the other, they rush together + as an acid and an alkali unite, predestined from eternity to find all they + most needed in each other. What is the condition of things in the growing + intimacy of Number Five and the Tutor? He is many years her junior, as we + know. Both of them look that fact squarely in the face. The presumption is + against the union of two persons under these circumstances. Presumptions + are strong obstacles against any result we wish to attain, but half our + work in life is to overcome them. A great many results look in the + distance like six-foot walls, and when we get nearer prove to be only + five-foot hurdles, to be leaped over or knocked down. Twenty years from + now she may be a vigorous and active old woman, and he a middle-aged, + half-worn-out invalid, like so many overworked scholars. Everything + depends on the number of drops of the elixir vitae which Nature mingled in + the nourishment she administered to the embryo before it tasted its + mother's milk. Think of Cleopatra, the bewitching old mischief-maker; + think of Ninon de L'Enclos, whose own son fell desperately in love with + her, not knowing the relation in which she stood to him; think of Dr. + Johnson's friend, Mrs. Thrale, afterward Mrs. Piozzi, who at the age of + eighty was full enough of life to be making love ardently and persistently + to Conway, the handsome young actor. I can readily believe that Number + Five will outlive the Tutor, even if he is fortunate enough rather in + winning his way into the fortress through gates that open to him of their + own accord. If he fails in his siege, I do really believe he will die + early; not of a broken heart, exactly, but of a heart starved, with the + food it was craving close to it, but unattainable. I have, therefore, a + deep interest in knowing how Number Five and the Tutor are getting along + together. Is there any danger of one or the other growing tired of the + intimacy, and becoming willing to get rid of it, like a garment which has + shrunk and grown too tight? Is it likely that some other attraction may + come into disturb the existing relation? The problem is to my mind not + only interesting, but exceptionally curious. You remember the story of + Cymon and Iphigenia as Dryden tells it. The poor youth has the capacity of + loving, but it lies hidden in his undeveloped nature. All at once he comes + upon the sleeping beauty, and is awakened by her charms to a hitherto + unfelt consciousness. With the advent of the new passion all his dormant + faculties start into life, and the seeming simpleton becomes the bright + and intelligent lover. The case of Number Five is as different from that + of Cymon as it could well be. All her faculties are wide awake, but one + emotional side of her nature has never been called into active exercise. + Why has she never been in love with any one of her suitors? Because she + liked too many of them. Do you happen to remember a poem printed among + these papers, entitled “I Like You and I Love You”? + </p> + <p> + No one of the poems which have been placed in the urn,—that is, in + the silver sugar-bowl,—has had any name attached to it; but you + could guess pretty nearly who was the author of some of them, certainly of + the one just, referred to. Number Five was attracted to the Tutor from the + first time he spoke to her. She dreamed about him that night, and nothing + idealizes and renders fascinating one in whom we have already an interest + like dreaming of him or of her. Many a calm suitor has been made + passionate by a dream; many a passionate lover has been made wild and half + beside himself by a dream; and now and then an infatuated but hapless + lover, waking from a dream of bliss to a cold reality of wretchedness, has + helped himself to eternity before he was summoned to the table. + </p> + <p> + Since Number Five had dreamed about the Tutor, he had been more in her + waking thoughts than she was willing to acknowledge. These thoughts were + vague, it is true,—emotions, perhaps, rather than worded trains of + ideas; but she was conscious of a pleasing excitement as his name or his + image floated across her consciousness; she sometimes sighed as she looked + over the last passage they had read from the same book, and sometimes when + they were together they were silent too long,—too long! What were + they thinking of? + </p> + <p> + And so it was all as plain sailing for Number Five and the young Tutor as + it had been for Delilah and the young Doctor, was it? Do you think so? + Then you do not understand Number Five. Many a woman has as many + atmospheric rings about her as the planet Saturn. Three are easily to be + recognized. First, there is the wide ring of attraction which draws into + itself all that once cross its outer border. These revolve about her + without ever coming any nearer. Next is the inner ring of attraction. + Those who come within its irresistible influence are drawn so close that + it seems as if they must become one with her sooner or later. But within + this ring is another,—an atmospheric girdle, one of repulsion, which + love, no matter how enterprising, no matter how prevailing or how + insinuating, has never passed, and, if we judge of what is to be by what + has been, never will. Perhaps Nature loved Number Five so well that she + grudged her to any mortal man, and gave her this inner girdle of repulsion + to guard her from all who would know her too nearly and love her too well. + Sometimes two vessels at sea keep each other company for a long distance, + it may be daring a whole voyage. Very pleasant it is to each to have a + companion to exchange signals with from time to time; to came near enough, + when the winds are light, to hold converse in ordinary tones from deck to + deck; to know that, in case of need, there's help at hand. It is good for + them to be near each other, but not good to be too near. Woe is to them if + they touch! The wreck of one or both is likely to be the consequence. And + so two well-equipped and heavily freighted natures may be the best of + companions to each other, and yet must never attempt to come into closer + union. Is this the condition of affairs between Number Five and the Tutor? + I hope not, for I want them to be joined together in that dearest of + intimacies, which, if founded in true affinity, is the nearest approach to + happiness to be looked for in our mortal, experience. We mast wait. The + Teacups will meet once more before the circle is broken, and we may, + perhaps, find the solution of the question we have raised. + </p> + <p> + In the mean time, our young Doctor is playing truant oftener than ever. He + has brought Avis,—if we must call her so, and not Delilah,—several + times to take tea with us. It means something, in these days, to graduate + from one of our first-class academies or collegiate schools. I shall never + forget my first visit to one of these institutions. How much its pupils + know, I said, which I was never taught, and have never learned! I was + fairly frightened to see what a teaching apparatus was provided for them. + I should think the first thing to be done with most of the husbands, they + are likely to get would be to put them through a course of instruction. + The young wives must find their lords wofully ignorant, in a large + proportion of cases. When the wife has educated the husband to such a + point that she can invite him to work out a problem in the higher + mathematics or to perform a difficult chemical analysis with her as his + collaborator, as less instructed dames ask their husbands to play a game + of checkers or backgammon, they can have delightful and instructive + evenings together. I hope our young Doctor will take kindly to his wife's + (that is to be) teachings. + </p> + <p> + When the following verses were taken out of the urn, the Mistress asked me + to hand the manuscript to the young Doctor to read. I noticed that he did + not keep his eyes very closely fixed on the paper. It seemed as if he + could have recited the lines without referring to the manuscript at all. + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + AT THE TURN OF THE ROAD. + + The glory has passed from the goldenrod's plume, + The purple-hued asters still linger in bloom; + The birch is bright yellow, the sumachs are red, + The maples like torches aflame overhead. + + But what if the joy of the summer is past, + And winter's wild herald is blowing his blast? + For me dull November is sweeter than May, + For my love is its sunshine,—she meets me to-day! + + Will she come? Will the ring-dove return to her nest? + Will the needle swing back from the east or the west? + At the stroke of the hour she will be at her gate; + A friend may prove laggard,—love never comes late. + + Do I see her afar in the distance? Not yet. + Too early! Too early! She could not forget! + When I cross the old bridge where the brook overflowed, + She will flash full in sight at the turn of the road. + + I pass the low wall where the ivy entwines; + I tread the brown pathway that leads through the pines; + I haste by the boulder that lies in the field, + Where her promise at parting was lovingly sealed. + + Will she come by the hillside or round through the wood? + Will she wear her brown dress or her mantle and hood? + The minute draws near,—but her watch may go wrong; + My heart will be asking, What keeps her so long? + + Why doubt for a moment? More shame if I do! + Why question? Why tremble? Are angels more true? + She would come to the lover who calls her his own + Though she trod in the track of a whirling cyclone! + + —I crossed the old bridge ere the minute had passed. + I looked: lo! my Love stood before me at last. + Her eyes, how they sparkled, her cheeks, how they glowed, + As we met, face to face, at the turn of the road! +</pre> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0015" id="link2H_4_0015"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + XII + </h2> + <p> + There was a great tinkling of teaspoons the other evening, when I took my + seat at the table, where all The Teacups were gathered before my entrance. + The whole company arose, and the Mistress, speaking for them, expressed + the usual sentiment appropriate to such occasions. “Many happy returns” is + the customary formula. No matter if the object of this kind wish is a + centenarian, it is quite safe to assume that he is ready and very willing + to accept as many more years as the disposing powers may see fit to allow + him. + </p> + <p> + The meaning of it all was that this was my birthday. My friends, near and + distant, had seen fit to remember it, and to let me know in various + pleasant ways that they had not forgotten it. The tables were adorned with + flowers. Gifts of pretty and pleasing objects were displayed on a side + table. A great green wreath, which must have cost the parent oak a large + fraction of its foliage, was an object of special admiration. Baskets of + flowers which had half unpeopled greenhouses, large bouquets of roses, + fragrant bunches of pinks, and many beautiful blossoms I am not botanist + enough to name had been coming in upon me all day long. Many of these + offerings were brought by the givers in person; many came with notes as + fragrant with good wishes as the flowers they accompanied with their + natural perfumes. + </p> + <p> + How old was I, The Dictator, once known by another equally audacious + title,—I, the recipient of all these favors and honors? I had + cleared the eight-barred gate, which few come in sight of, and fewer, far + fewer, go over, a year before. I was a trespasser on the domain belonging + to another generation. The children of my coevals were fast getting gray + and bald, and their children beginning to look upon the world as belonging + to them, and not to their sires and grandsires. After that leap over the + tall barrier, it looks like a kind of impropriety to keep on as if one + were still of a reasonable age. Sometimes it seems to me almost of the + nature of a misdemeanor to be wandering about in the preserve which the + fleshless gamekeeper guards so jealously. But, on the other hand, I + remember that men of science have maintained that the natural life of man + is nearer fivescore than threescore years and ten. I always think of a + familiar experience which I bring from the French cafes, well known to me + in my early manhood. One of the illustrated papers of my Parisian days + tells it pleasantly enough. + </p> + <p> + A guest of the establishment is sitting at his little table. He has just + had his coffee, and the waiter is serving him with his petit verre. Most + of my readers know very well what a petit verre is, but there may be here + and there a virtuous abstainer from alcoholic fluids, living among the + bayberries and the sweet ferns, who is not aware that the words, as + commonly used, signify a small glass—a very small glass—of + spirit, commonly brandy, taken as a chasse-cafe, or coffee-chaser. This + drinking of brandy, “neat,” I may remark by the way, is not quite so bad + as it looks. Whiskey or rum taken unmixed from a tumbler is a knock-down + blow to temperance, but the little thimbleful of brandy, or Chartreuse, or + Maraschino, is only, as it were, tweaking the nose of teetotalism. + </p> + <p> + Well,—to go back behind our brackets,—the guest is calling to + the waiter, “Garcon! et le bain de pieds!” Waiter! and the foot-bath!—The + little glass stands in a small tin saucer or shallow dish, and the custom + is to more than fill the glass, so that some extra brandy rung over into + this tin saucer or cup-plate, to the manifest gain of the consumer. + </p> + <p> + Life is a petit verre of a very peculiar kind of spirit. At seventy years + it used to be said that the little glass was full. We should be more apt + to put it at eighty in our day, while Gladstone and Tennyson and our own + Whittier are breathing, moving, thinking, writing, speaking, in the green + preserve belonging to their children and grandchildren, and Bancroft is + keeping watch of the gamekeeper in the distance. But, returning resolutely + to the petit verre, I am willing to concede that all after fourscore is + the bain de pieds,—the slopping over, so to speak, of the full + measure of life. I remember that one who was very near and dear to me, and + who lived to a great age, so that the ten-barred gate of the century did + not look very far off, would sometimes apologize in a very sweet, natural + way for lingering so long to be a care and perhaps a burden to her + children, themselves getting well into years. It is not hard to understand + the feeling, never less called for than it was in the case of that beloved + nonagenarian. I have known few persons, young or old, more sincerely and + justly regretted than the gentle lady whose memory comes up before me as I + write. + </p> + <p> + Oh, if we could all go out of flower as gracefully, as pleasingly, as we + come into blossom! I always think of the morning-glory as the loveliest + example of a graceful yielding to the inevitable. It is beautiful before + its twisted corolla opens; it is comely as it folds its petals inward, + when its brief hours of perfection are over. Women find it easier than men + to grow old in a becoming way. A very old lady who has kept something, it + may be a great deal, of her youthful feelings, who is daintily cared for, + who is grateful for the attentions bestowed upon her, and enters into the + spirit of the young lives that surround her, is as precious to those who + love her as a gem in an antique setting, the fashion of which has long + gone by, but which leaves the jewel the color and brightness which are its + inalienable qualities. With old men it is too often different. They do not + belong so much indoors as women do. They have no pretty little manual + occupations. The old lady knits or stitches so long as her eyes and + fingers will let her. The old man smokes his pipe, but does not know what + to do with his fingers, unless he plays upon some instrument, or has a + mechanical turn which finds business for them. + </p> + <p> + But the old writer, I said to The Teacups, as I say to you, my readers, + labors under one special difficulty, which I am thinking of and + exemplifying at this moment. He is constantly tending to reflect upon and + discourse about his own particular stage of life. He feels that he must + apologize for his intrusion upon the time and thoughts of a generation + which he naturally supposes must be tired of him, if they ever had any + considerable regard for him. Now, if the world of readers hates anything + it sees in print, it is apology. If what one has to say is worth saying, + he need not beg pardon fur saying it. If it is not worth saying I will not + finish the sentence. But it is so hard to resist the temptation, + notwithstanding that the terrible line beginning “Superfluous lags the + veteran” is always repeating itself in his dull ear! + </p> + <p> + What kind of audience or reading parish is a man who secured his + constituency in middle life, or before that period, to expect when he has + reached the age of threescore and twenty? His coevals have dropped away by + scores and tens, and he sees only a few units scattered about here and + there, like the few beads above the water after a ship has gone to pieces. + Does he write and publish for those of his own time of life? He need not + print a large edition. Does he hope to secure a hearing from those who + have come into the reading world since his coevals? They have found + fresher fields and greener pastures. Their interests are in the out-door, + active world. Some of them are circumnavigating the planet while he is + hitching his rocking chair about his hearth-rug. Some are gazing upon the + pyramids while he is staring at his andirons. Some are settling the tariff + and fixing the laws of suffrage and taxation while he is dozing over the + weather bulletin, and going to sleep over the obituaries in his morning or + evening paper. + </p> + <p> + Nature is wiser than we give her credit for being; never wiser than in her + dealings with the old. She has no idea of mortifying them by sudden and + wholly unexpected failure of the chief servants of consciousness. The + sight, for instance, begins to lose something of its perfection long + before its deficiency calls the owner's special attention to it. Very + probably, the first hint we have of the change is that a friend makes the + pleasing remark that we are “playing the trombone,” as he calls it; that + is, moving a book we are holding backward and forward, to get the right + focal distance. Or it may be we find fault with the lamp or the gas-burner + for not giving so much light as it used to. At last, somewhere between + forty and fifty, we begin to dangle a jaunty pair of eye-glasses, half + plaything and half necessity. In due time a pair of sober, business-like + spectacles bestrides the nose. Old age leaps upon it as his saddle, and + rides triumphant, unchallenged, until the darkness comes which no glasses + can penetrate. Nature is pitiless in carrying out the universal sentence, + but very pitiful in her mode of dealing with the condemned on his way to + the final scene. The man who is to be hanged always has a good breakfast + provided for him. + </p> + <p> + Do not think that the old look upon themselves as the helpless, hopeless, + forlorn creatures which they seem to young people. Do these young folks + suppose that all vanity dies out of the natures of old men and old women? + A dentist of olden time told me that a good-looking young man once said to + him, “Keep that incisor presentable, if you can, till I am fifty, and then + I sha'n't care how I look.” I venture to say that that gentleman was as + particular about his personal appearance and as proud of his good looks at + fifty, and many years after fifty, as he was in the twenties, when he made + that speech to the dentist. + </p> + <p> + My dear friends around the teacups, and at that wider board where I am now + entertaining, or trying to entertain, my company, is it not as plain to + you as it is to me that I had better leave such tasks as that which I am + just finishing to those who live in a more interesting period of life than + one which, in the order of nature, is next door to decrepitude? Ought I + not to regret having undertaken to report the doings and sayings of the + members of the circle which you have known as The Teacups? + </p> + <p> + Dear, faithful reader, whose patient eyes have followed my reports through + these long months, you and I are about parting company. Perhaps you are + one of those who have known me under another name, in those far-off days + separated from these by the red sea of the great national conflict. When + you first heard the tinkle of the teaspoons, as the table was being made + ready for its guests, you trembled for me, in the kindness of your hearts. + I do not wonder that you did,—I trembled for myself. But I + remembered the story of Sir Cloudesley Shovel, who was seen all of a + tremor just as he was going into action. “How is this?” said a brother + officer to him. “Surely you are not afraid?” “No,” he answered, “but my + flesh trembles at the thought of the dangers into which my intrepid spirit + will carry me.” I knew the risk of undertaking to carry through a series + of connected papers. And yet I thought it was better to run that risk, + more manly, more sensible, than to give way to the fears which made my + flesh tremble as did Sir Cloudesley Shovel's. For myself the labor has + been a distraction, and one which came at a time when it was needed. + Sometimes, as in one of those poems recently published,—the reader + will easily guess which,—the youthful spirit has come over me with + such a rush that it made me feel just as I did when I wrote the history of + the “One-hoss Shay” thirty years ago. To repeat one of my comparisons, it + was as if an early fruit had ripened on a graft upon an old, steady-going + tree, to the astonishment of all its later-maturing products. I should + hardly dare to say so much as this if I had not heard a similar opinion + expressed by others. + </p> + <p> + Once committed to my undertaking, there was no turning back. It is true + that I had said I might stop at any moment, but after one or two numbers + it seemed as if there were an informal pledge to carry the series on, as + in former cases, until I had completed my dozen instalments. + </p> + <p> + Writers and speakers have their idiosyncrasies, their habits, their + tricks, if you had rather call them so, as to their ways of writing and + speaking. There is a very old and familiar story, accompanied by a feeble + jest, which most of my readers may probably enough have met with in Joe + Miller or elsewhere. It is that of a lawyer who could never make an + argument without having a piece of thread to work upon with his fingers + while he was pleading. Some one stole it from him one day, and he could + not get on at all with his speech,—he had lost the thread of his + discourse, as the story had it. Now this is what I myself once saw. It was + at a meeting where certain grave matters were debated in an assembly of + professional men. A speaker, whom I never heard before or since, got up + and made a long and forcible argument. I do not think he was a lawyer, but + he spoke as if he had been trained to talk to juries. He held a long + string in one hand, which he drew through the other band incessantly, as + he spoke, just as a shoe maker performs the motion of waxing his thread. + He appeared to be dependent on this motion. The physiological significance + of the fact I suppose to be that the flow of what we call the nervous + current from the thinking centre to the organs of speech was rendered + freer and easier by the establishment of a simultaneous collateral nervous + current to the set of muscles concerned in the action I have described. + </p> + <p> + I do not use a string to help me write or speak, but I must have its + equivalent. I must have my paper and pen or pencil before me to set my + thoughts flowing in such form that they can be written continuously. There + have been lawyers who could think out their whole argument in connected + order without a single note. There are authors,—and I think there + are many,—who can compose and finish off a poem or a story without + writing a word of it until, when the proper time comes, they copy what + they carry in their heads. I have been told that Sir Edwin Arnold thought + out his beautiful “Light of Asia” in this way. + </p> + <p> + I find the great charm of writing consists in its surprises. When one is + in the receptive attitude of mind, the thoughts which are sprung upon him, + the images which flash through his—consciousness, are a delight and + an excitement. I am impatient of every hindrance in setting down my + thoughts,—of a pen that will not write, of ink that will not flow, + of paper that will not receive the ink. And here let me pay the tribute + which I owe to one of the humblest but most serviceable of my assistants, + especially in poetical composition. Nothing seems more prosaic than the + stylographic pen. It deprives the handwriting of its beauty, and to some + extent of its individual character. The brutal communism of the letters it + forms covers the page it fills with the most uniformly uninteresting + characters. But, abuse it as much as you choose, there is nothing like it + for the poet, for the imaginative writer. Many a fine flow of thought has + been checked, perhaps arrested, by the ill behavior of a goose-quill. Many + an idea has escaped while the author was dipping his pen in the inkstand. + But with the stylographic pen, in the hands of one who knows how to care + for it and how to use it, unbroken rhythms and harmonious cadences are the + natural products of the unimpeded flow of the fluid which is the vehicle + of the author's thoughts and fancies. So much for my debt of gratitude to + the humble stylographic pen. It does not furnish the proper medium for the + correspondence of intimates, who wish to see as much of their friends' + personality as their handwriting can hold,—still less for the + impassioned interchange of sentiments between lovers; but in writing for + the press its use is open to no objection. Its movement over the paper is + like the flight of a swallow, while the quill pen and the steel pen and + the gold pen are all taking short, laborious journeys, and stopping to + drink every few minutes. + </p> + <p> + A chief pleasure which the author of novels and stories experiences is + that of becoming acquainted with the characters be draws. It is perfectly + true that his characters must, in the nature of things, have more or less + of himself in their composition. If I should seek an exemplification of + this in the person of any of my Teacups, I should find it most readily in + the one whom I have called Number Seven, the one with the squinting brain. + I think that not only I, the writer, but many of my readers, recognize in + our own mental constitution an occasional obliquity of perception, not + always detected at the time, but plain enough when looked back upon. What + extravagant fancies you and I have seriously entertained at one time or + another! What superstitious notions have got into our heads and taken + possession of its empty chambers,—or, in the language of science, + seized on the groups of nerve-cells in some of the idle cerebral + convolutions! + </p> + <p> + The writer, I say, becomes acquainted with his characters as he goes on. + They are at first mere embryos, outlines of distinct personalities. By and + by, if they have any organic cohesion, they begin to assert themselves. + They can say and do such and such things; such and such other things they + cannot and must not say or do. The story-writer's and play-writer's danger + is that they will get their characters mixed, and make A say what B ought + to have said. The stronger his imaginative faculty, the less liable will + the writer be to this fault; but not even Shakespeare's power of throwing + himself into his characters prevents many of his different personages from + talking philosophy in the same strain and in a style common to them all. + </p> + <p> + You will often observe that authors fall in love with the imaginary + persons they describe, and that they bestow affectionate epithets upon + them which it may happen the reader does not consider in any way called + for. This is a pleasure to which they have a right. Every author of a + story is surrounded by a little family of ideal children, as dear to him, + it may be, as are flesh-and-blood children to their parents. You may + forget all about the circle of Teacups to which I have introduced you,—on + the supposition that you have followed me with some degree of interest; + but do you suppose that Number Five does not continue as a presence with + me, and that my pretty Delilah has left me forever because she is going to + be married? + </p> + <p> + No, my dear friend, our circle will break apart, and its different members + will soon be to you as if they had never been. But do you think that I can + forget them? Do you suppose that I shall cease to follow the love (or the + loves; which do you think is the true word, the singular or the plural?) + of Number Five and the young Tutor who is so constantly found in her + company? Do you suppose that I do not continue my relations with the + “Cracked Teacup,”—the poor old fellow with whom I have so much in + common, whose counterpart, perhaps, you may find in your own complex + personality? + </p> + <p> + I take from the top shelf of the hospital department of my library—the + section devoted to literary cripples, imbeciles, failures, foolish + rhymesters, and silly eccentrics—one of the least conspicuous and + most hopelessly feeble of the weak-minded population of that intellectual + almshouse. I open it and look through its pages. It is a story. I have + looked into it once before,—on its first reception as a gift from + the author. I try to recall some of the names I see there: they mean + nothing to me, but I venture to say the author cherishes them all, and + cries over them as he did when he was writing their history. I put the + book back among its dusty companions, and, sitting down in my reflective + rocking-chair, think how others must forget, and how I shall remember, the + company that gathered about this table. + </p> + <p> + Shall I ever meet any one of them again, in these pages or in any other? + Will the cracked Teacup hold together, or will he go to pieces, and find + himself in that retreat where the owner of the terrible clock which drove + him crazy is walking under the shelter of the high walls? Has the young + Doctor's crown yet received the seal which is Nature's warrant of wisdom + and proof of professional competency? And Number Five and her young friend + the Tutor,—have they kept on in their dangerous intimacy? Did they + get through the tutto tremante passage, reading from the same old large + edition of Dante which the Tutor recommended as the best, and in reading + from which their heads were necessarily brought perilously near to each + other? + </p> + <p> + It would be very pleasant if I could, consistently with the present state + of affairs, bring these two young people together. I say two young people, + for the one who counts most years seems to me to be really the younger of + the pair. That Number Five foresaw from the first that any tenderer + feeling than that of friendship would intrude itself between them I do not + believe. As for the Tutor, he soon found where he was drifting. It was his + first experience in matters concerning the heart, and absorbed his whole + nature as a thing of course. Did he tell her he loved her? Perhaps he did, + fifty times; perhaps he never had the courage to say so outright. But + sometimes they looked each other straight in the eyes, and strange + messages seemed to pass from one consciousness to the other. Will the + Tutor ask Number Five to be his wife; and if he does, will she yield to + the dictates of nature, and lower the flag of that fortress so long + thought impregnable? Will he go on writing such poems to her as “The Rose + and the Fern” or “I Like You and I Love You,” and be content with the + pursuit of that which he never can attain? That is all very well, on the + “Grecian Urn” of Keats,—beautiful, but not love such as mortals + demand. Still, that may be all, for aught that we have yet seen. + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + “Fair youth, beneath the trees, thou canst not leave + Thy song, nor ever can those trees be bare; + Bold lover, never, never, canst thou kiss, + Though winning near the goal,—yet do not grieve; + She cannot fade, though thou hast not thy bliss, + Forever wilt thou love, and she be fair! + + ......................... + + “More happy love! more happy, happy love! + Forever warm, and still to be enjoyed, + Forever panting and forever young!” + </pre> + <p> + And so, good-bye, young people, whom we part with here. Shadows you have + been and are to my readers; very real you have been and are to me,—as + real as the memories of many friends whom I shall see no more. + </p> + <p> + As I am not in the habit of indulging in late suppers, the reader need not + think that I shall spread another board and invite him to listen to the + conversations which take place around it. If, from time to time, he finds + a slight refection awaiting him on the sideboard, I hope he may welcome it + as pleasantly as he has accepted what I have offered him from the board + now just being cleared. + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + .......................... +</pre> + <p> + It is a good rule for the actor who manages the popular street drama of + Punch not to let the audience or spectators see his legs. It is very hard + for the writer of papers like these, which are now coming to their + conclusion, to keep his personality from showing itself too conspicuously + through the thin disguises of his various characters. As the show is now + over, as the curtain has fallen, I appear before it in my proper person, + to address a few words to the friends who have assisted, as the French + say, by their presence, and as we use the word, by the kind way in which + they have received my attempts at their entertainment. + </p> + <p> + This series of papers is the fourth of its kind which I have offered to my + readers. I may be allowed to look back upon the succession of serial + articles which was commenced more than thirty years ago, in 1857. “The + Autocrat of the Breakfast-Table” was the first of the series. It was begun + without the least idea what was to be its course and its outcome. Its + characters shaped themselves gradually as the manuscript grew under my + hand. I jotted down on the sheet of blotting paper before me the thoughts + and fancies which came into my head. A very odd-looking object was this + page of memoranda. Many of the hints were worked up into formal shape, + many were rejected. Sometimes I recorded a story, a jest, or a pun for + consideration, and made use of it or let it alone as my second thought + decided. I remember a curious coincidence, which, if I have ever told in + print,—I am not sure whether I have or not,—I will tell over + again. I mention it, not for the pun, which I rejected as not very + edifying and perhaps not new, though I did not recollect having seen it. + </p> + <p> + Mulier, Latin for woman; why apply that name to one of the gentle but + occasionally obstinate sex? The answer was that a woman is (sometimes) + more mulish than a mule. Please observe that I did not like the poor pun + very well, and thought it rather rude and inelegant. So I left it on the + blotter, where it was standing when one of the next numbers of “Punch” + came out and contained that very same pun, which must have been hit upon + by some English contributor at just about the same time I fell upon it on + this side of the Atlantic. This fact may be added to the chapter of + coincidences which belongs to the first number of this series of papers. + </p> + <p> + The “Autocrat” had the attraction of novelty, which of course was wanting + in the succeeding papers of similar character. The criticisms upon the + successive numbers as they came out were various, but generally + encouraging. Some were more than encouraging; very high-colored in their + phrases of commendation. When the papers were brought together in a volume + their success was beyond my expectations. Up to the present time the + “Autocrat” has maintained its position. An immortality of a whole + generation is more than most writers are entitled to expect. I venture to + think, from the letters I receive from the children and grandchildren of + my first set of readers, that for some little time longer, at least, it + will continue to be read, and even to be a favorite with some of its + readers. Non omnis moriar is a pleasant thought to one who has loved his + poor little planet, and will, I trust, retain kindly recollections of it + through whatever wilderness of worlds he may be called to wander in his + future pilgrimages. I say “poor little planet.” Ever since I had a ten + cent look at the transit of Venus, a few years ago, through the telescope + in the Mall, the earth has been wholly different to me from what it used + to be. I knew from books what a speck it is in the universe, but nothing + ever brought the fact home like the sight of the sister planet sailing + across the sun's disk, about large enough for a buckshot, not large enough + for a full-sized bullet. Yes, I love the little globule where I have spent + more than fourscore years, and I like to think that some of my thoughts + and some of my emotions may live themselves over again when I am sleeping. + I cannot thank all the kind readers of the “Autocrat” who are constantly + sending me their acknowledgments. If they see this printed page, let them + be assured that a writer is always rendered happier by being told that he + has made a fellow-being wiser or better, or even contributed to his + harmless entertainment. This a correspondent may take for granted, even if + his letter of grateful recognition receives no reply. It becomes more and + more difficult for me to keep up with my correspondents, and I must soon + give it up as impossible. + </p> + <p> + “The Professor at the Breakfast Table” followed immediately on the heels + of the “Autocrat.” The Professor was the alter ego of the first personage. + In the earlier series he had played a secondary part, and in this second + series no great effort was made to create a character wholly unlike the + first. The Professor was more outspoken, however, on religious subjects, + and brought down a good deal of hard language on himself and the author to + whom he owed his existence. I suppose he may have used some irritating + expressions, unconsciously, but not unconscientiously, I am sure. There is + nothing harder to forgive than the sting of an epigram. Some of the old + doctors, I fear, never pardoned me for saying that if a ship, loaded with + an assorted cargo of the drugs which used to be considered the natural + food of sick people, went to the bottom of the sea, it would be “all the + better for mankind and all the worse for the fishes.” If I had not put + that snapper on the end of my whip-lash, I might have got off without the + ill temper which my antithesis provoked. Thirty years set that all right, + and the same thirty years have so changed the theological atmosphere that + such abusive words as “heretic” and “infidel,” applied to persons who + differ from the old standards of faith, are chiefly interesting as a test + of breeding, being seldom used by any people above the social half-caste + line. I am speaking of Protestants; how it may be among Roman Catholics I + do not know, but I suspect that with them also it is a good deal a matter + of breeding. There were not wanting some who liked the Professor better + than the Autocrat. I confess that I prefer my champagne in its first burst + of gaseous enthusiasm; but if my guest likes it better after it has stood + awhile, I am pleased to accommodate him. The first of my series came from + my mind almost with an explosion, like the champagne cork; it startled me + a little to see what I had written, and to hear what people said about it. + After that first explosion the flow was more sober, and I looked upon the + product of my wine-press more coolly. Continuations almost always sag a + little. I will not say that of my own second effort, but if others said + it, I should not be disposed to wonder at or to dispute them. + </p> + <p> + “The Poet at the Breakfast Table” came some years later. This series of + papers was not so much a continuation as a resurrection. It was a doubly + hazardous attempt, made without any extravagant expectations, and was + received as well as I had any right to anticipate. It differed from the + other two series in containing a poem of considerable length, published in + successive portions. This poem holds a good deal of self-communing, and + gave me the opportunity of expressing some thoughts and feelings not to be + found elsewhere in my writings. I had occasion to read the whole volume, + not long since, in preparation for a new edition, and was rather more + pleased with it than I had expected to be. An old author is constantly + rediscovering himself in the more or less fossilized productions of his + earlier years. It is a long time since I have read the “Autocrat,” but I + take it up now and then and read in it for a few minutes, not always + without some degree of edification. + </p> + <p> + These three series of papers, “Autocrat,” “Professor,” “Poet,” are all + studies of life from somewhat different points of view. They are largely + made up of sober reflections, and appeared to me to require some lively + human interest to save them from wearisome didactic dulness. What could be + more natural than that love should find its way among the young people who + helped to make up the circle gathered around the table? Nothing is older + than the story of young love. Nothing is newer than that same old story. A + bit of gilding here and there has a wonderful effect in enlivening a + landscape or an apartment. Napoleon consoled the Parisians in their year + of defeat by gilding the dome of the Invalides. Boston has glorified her + State House and herself at the expense of a few sheets of gold leaf laid + on the dome, which shines like a sun in the eyes of her citizens, and like + a star in those of the approaching traveller. I think the gilding of a + love-story helped all three of these earlier papers. The same need I felt + in the series of papers just closed. The slight incident of Delilah's + appearance and disappearance served my purpose to some extent. But what + should I do with Number Five? The reader must follow out her career for + himself. For myself, I think that she and the Tutor have both utterly + forgotten the difference of their years in the fascination of intimate + intercourse. I do not believe that a nature so large, so rich in + affection, as Number Five's is going to fall defeated of its best + inheritance of life, like a vine which finds no support for its tendrils + to twine around, and so creeps along the ground from which nature meant + that love should lift it. I feel as if I ought to follow these two + personages of my sermonizing story until they come together or separate, + to fade, to wither,—perhaps to die, at last, of something like what + the doctors call heart-failure, but which might more truly be called + heart-starvation. When I say die, I do not mean necessarily the death that + goes into the obituary column. It may come to that, in one or both; but I + think that, if they are never united, Number Five will outlive the Tutor, + who will fall into melancholy ways, and pine and waste, while she lives + along, feeling all the time that she has cheated herself of happiness. I + hope that is not going to be their fortune, or misfortune. Vieille fille + fait jeune mariee. What a youthful bride Number Five would be, if she + could only make up her mind to matrimony! In the mean time she must be + left with her lambs all around her. May heaven temper the winds to them, + for they have been shorn very close, every one of them, of their golden + fleece of aspirations and anticipations. + </p> + <p> + I must avail myself of this opportunity to say a few words to my distant + friends who take interest enough in my writings, early or recent, to wish + to enter into communication with me by letter, or to keep up a + communication already begun. I have given notice in print that the + letters, books, and manuscripts which I receive by mail are so numerous + that if I undertook to read and answer them all I should have little time + for anything else. I have for some years depended on the assistance of a + secretary, but our joint efforts have proved unable, of late, to keep down + the accumulations which come in with every mail. So many of the letters I + receive are of a pleasant character that it is hard to let them go + unacknowledged. The extreme friendliness which pervades many of them gives + them a value which I rate very highly. When large numbers of strangers + insist on claiming one as a friend, on the strength of what he has + written, it tends to make him think of himself somewhat indulgently. It is + the most natural thing in the world to want to give expression to the + feeling the loving messages from far-off unknown friends must excite. Many + a day has had its best working hours broken into, spoiled for all literary + work, by the labor of answering correspondents whose good opinion it is + gratifying to have called forth, but who were unconsciously laying a new + burden on shoulders already aching. I know too well that what I say will + not reach the eyes of many who might possibly take a hint from it. Still I + must keep repeating it before breaking off suddenly and leaving whole + piles of letters unanswered. I have been very heavily handicapped for many + years. It is partly my own fault. From what my correspondents tell me, I + must infer that I have established a dangerous reputation for willingness + to answer all sorts of letters. They come with such insinuating humility,—they + cannot bear to intrude upon my time, they know that I have a great many + calls upon it,—and incontinently proceed to lay their additional + weight on the load which is breaking my back. + </p> + <p> + The hypocrisy of kind-hearted people is one of the most painful + exhibitions of human weakness. It has occurred to me that it might be + profitable to reproduce some of my unwritten answers to correspondents. If + those which were actually written and sent were to be printed in parallel + columns with those mentally formed but not written out responses and + comments, the reader would get some idea of the internal conflicts an + honest and not unamiable person has to go through, when he finds himself + driven to the wall by a correspondence which is draining his vocabulary to + find expressions that sound as agreeably, and signify as little, as the + phrases used by a diplomatist in closing an official communication. + </p> + <p> + No. 1. Want my autograph, do you? And don't know how to spell my name. An + a for an e in my middle name. Leave out the l in my last name. Do you know + how people hate to have their names misspelled? What do you suppose are + the sentiments entertained by the Thompsons with a p towards those who + address them in writing as Thomson? + </p> + <p> + No. 2. Think the lines you mention are by far the best I ever wrote, hey? + Well, I didn't write those lines. What is more, I think they are as + detestable a string of rhymes as I could wish my worst enemy had written. + A very pleasant frame of mind I am in for writing a letter, after reading + yours! + </p> + <p> + No. 3. I am glad to hear that my namesake, whom I never saw and never + expect to see, has cut another tooth; but why write four pages on the + strength of that domestic occurrence? + </p> + <p> + No. 4. You wish to correct an error in my Broomstick poem, do you? You + give me to understand that Wilmington is not in Essex County, but in + Middlesex. Very well; but are they separated by running water? Because if + they are not, what could hinder a witch from crossing the line that + separates Wilmington from Andover, I should like to know? I never meant to + imply that the witches made no excursions beyond the district which was + more especially their seat of operations. + </p> + <p> + As I come towards the end of this task which I had set myself, I wish, of + course, that I could have performed it more to my own satisfaction and + that of my readers. This is a feeling which almost every one must have at + the conclusion of any work he has undertaken. A common and very simple + reason for this disappointment is that most of us overrate our capacity. + We expect more of ourselves than we have any right to, in virtue of our + endowments. The figurative descriptions of the last Grand Assize must no + more be taken literally than the golden crowns, which we do not expect or + want to wear on our heads, or the golden harps, which we do not want or + expect to hold in our hands. Is it not too true that many religious + sectaries think of the last tribunal complacently, as the scene in which + they are to have the satisfaction of saying to the believers of a creed + different from their own, “I told you so”? Are not others oppressed with + the thought of the great returns which will be expected of them as the + product of their great gifts, the very limited amount of which they do not + suspect, and will be very glad to learn, even at the expense of their + self-love, when they are called to their account? If the ways of the + Supreme Being are ever really to be “justified to men,” to use Milton's + expression, every human being may expect an exhaustive explanation of + himself. No man is capable of being his own counsel, and I cannot help + hoping that the ablest of the archangels will be retained for the defence + of the worst of sinners. He himself is unconscious of the agencies which + made him what he is. Self-determining he may be, if you will, but who + determines the self which is the proximate source of the determination? + Why was the A self like his good uncle in bodily aspect and mental and + moral qualities, and the B self like the bad uncle in look and character? + Has not a man a right to ask this question in the here or in the + hereafter,—in this world or in any world in which he may find + himself? If the All-wise wishes to satisfy his reasonable and reasoning + creatures, it will not be by a display of elemental convulsions, but by + the still small voice, which treats with him as a dependent entitled to + know the meaning of his existence, and if there was anything wrong in his + adjustment to the moral and spiritual conditions of the world around him + to have full allowance made for it. No melodramatic display of warring + elements, such as the white-robed Second Adventist imagines, can meet the + need of the human heart. The thunders and lightnings of Sinai terrified + and impressed the more timid souls of the idolatrous and rebellious + caravan which the great leader was conducting, but a far nobler + manifestation of divinity was that when “the Lord spake unto Moses face to + face, as a man speaketh unto his friend.” + </p> + <p> + I find the burden and restrictions of rhyme more and more troublesome as I + grow older. There are times when it seems natural enough to employ that + form of expression, but it is only occasionally; and the use of it as the + vehicle of the commonplace is so prevalent that one is not much tempted to + select it as the medium for his thoughts and emotions. The art of rhyming + has almost become a part of a high-school education, and its practice is + far from being an evidence of intellectual distinction. Mediocrity is as + much forbidden to the poet in our days as it was in those of Horace, and + the immense majority of the verses written are stamped with hopeless + mediocrity. + </p> + <p> + When one of the ancient poets found he was trying to grind out verses + which came unwillingly, he said he was writing— + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + INVITA MINERVA. + + Vex not the Muse with idle prayers, + —She will not hear thy call; + She steals upon thee unawares, + Or seeks thee not at all. + + Soft as the moonbeams when they sought + Endymion's fragrant bower, + She parts the whispering leaves of thought + To show her full-blown flower. + + For thee her wooing hour has passed, + The singing birds have flown, + And winter comes with icy blast + To chill thy buds unblown. + + Yet, though the woods no longer thrill + As once their arches rung, + Sweet echoes hover round thee still + Of songs thy summer sung. + + Live in thy past; await no more + The rush of heaven-sent wings; + Earth still has music left in store + While Memory sighs and sings. +</pre> + <p> + I hope my special Minerva may not always be unwilling, but she must not be + called upon as she has been in times past. Now that the teacups have left + the table, an occasional evening call is all that my readers must look + for. Thanking them for their kind companionship, and hoping that I may yet + meet them in the now and then in the future, I bid them goodbye for the + immediate present, then in the future, I bid them goodbye for the + immediate present. + </p> + <p> + <br /> <br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <br /> <br /> + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + + + + + +End of Project Gutenberg's Over the Teacups, by Oliver Wendell Holmes, Sr. + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK OVER THE TEACUPS *** + +***** This file should be named 2689-h.htm or 2689-h.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + https://www.gutenberg.org/2/6/8/2689/ + +Produced by David Widger + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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