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diff --git a/2689-0.txt b/2689-0.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..ef3fad4 --- /dev/null +++ b/2689-0.txt @@ -0,0 +1,9232 @@ + + +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 + + + + + +OVER THE TEACUPS + +By Oliver W. Holmes + + + + +PREFACE. + + +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.” + +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. + +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. + +BEVERLY FARM, Mass., August, 1891. + +O. W. H. + + + + +OVER THE TEACUPS. + + + + +I + + +INTRODUCTION + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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! + +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! + +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. + +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: + + Tres imbris torti radios, tres nubis aquosae + Addiderant, rutili tres ignis, et alitis Austri. + +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! + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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: + +“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: + +'20 ALFRED PLACE, West (near Museum) South Kensington, LONDON, S. W. +April 7, 1887. DR. O. W. HOLMES: + +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.... + +Yours faithfully, FRED. RATHBONE.' + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +“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. + +“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. + +“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.' + +“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?” + +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.” + +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. + +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:-- + +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: + +The name is Grenville Tudor. + +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. + +The second of these two last stories must be told in prosaic detail to +show its whole value as a coincidence. + +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. + +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. + +If there is such a thing as a purely accidental coincidence this must be +considered an instance of it. + +All one can say about it is that it seems very unlikely that such a +coincidence should occur, but it did. + +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! + +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. + + + + +II + + +TO THE READER. + +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.” + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +I will not detain the reader any longer from the essay I have promised. + +This is the paper read to The Teacups. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +“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. + +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. + +Ranke, the great German historian, died at the age of ninety-one, and +Chevreul, the eminent chemist, at that of a hundred and two. + +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.” + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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? + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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 + + “regained [his] freedom with a sigh,” + +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.” + +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. + +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. + +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, + + “They also serve who only stand and wait.” + +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. + +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. + +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: + + “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!'” + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +Should I send this poem to the publishers, or not? + + “Some said, 'John, print it;' others said, 'Not so.'” + +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.” + +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. + + 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! + + + + +III + +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. + +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.” + +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: + + “Animula, vagula, blandula, + Hospes comesque corporis.” + + “Dear little, flitting, pleasing sprite, + The body's comrade and its guest.” + +How like the language of Catullus to Lesbia's sparrow! + +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: + + “'No voice did they impart + No voice; but oh! the silence sank + Like music on my heart.'” + +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? + +“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. + +“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. + +“I like Wordsworth's 'Matthew,'” said Number Five, “as well as any +picture of old age I remember.” + +“Can you repeat it to us?” asked one of The Teacups. + +“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. + + “'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:' + +“This was the way in which Wordsworth paid his tribute to a + + “'Soul of God's best earthly mould.'” + +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: + + “Heaven's Sovereign saves all beings but Himself + That hideous sight, a naked human heart.” + +Or the author of “Don Juan,” telling us to look into + + “Man's heart, and view the hell that's there!” + +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? + +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? + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +There is also a young Doctor, waiting for his bald spot to come, so that +he may get into practice. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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, + + “Why nature loves the number five,” + +and that will remind you that she is the favorite of our table. + +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. + +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.” + +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. + +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. + +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. + +“One of our company has been on an excursion among the celestial bodies +of our system, I understand,” said the Professor. + +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.” + +“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.” + +The company was so urgent that Number Five sent up-stairs for her paper. + +Number Five reads the story of her dream. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +“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. + +“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. + +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. + +“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. + +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. + +“Oh, if I could sometimes revisit these beloved scenes!” I exclaimed. + +“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?” + +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.'” + +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 + + “maiden + With white fire laden.” + +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. + +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. + +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-- + +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.” + +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. + +“What is the meaning of all this?” I said to my guide. + +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.” + +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.” + +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.” + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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: + +All Saturnians are born equal, live equal, and die equal. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +“I suppose that now they have levelled everything they are quiet and +contented. Have they any of those uneasy people called reformers?” + +“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.” + +Here I had to stop and laugh. + +“I should think life might be a little dull in Saturn,” I said. + +“It is liable to that accusation,” she answered. “Do you notice how many +people you meet with their mouths stretched wide open?” + +“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.” + +“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.” + +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. + +“What are their amusements?” I asked. + +“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.” + +Number Five stopped here. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +“You must come to my laboratory,” said the Professor. + +“I will come to-morrow,” said Number Five. + +Oh, yes! Much laboratory work they will do! Play of mutual affinities. +Amalgamates. No freezing mixtures, I'll warrant! + +Why shouldn't we get a romance out of all this, hey? + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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.” + +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. + + 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. + + + + +IV + +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. + +This is a hint to the reader, who is not expected to be too curious +about the individual Teacups constituting our unorganized association. + +The Dictator Discourses. + +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. + +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. + +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? + +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. + + 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! + +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. + +“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.” + +“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.” + +“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.” + +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. + +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. + +“You receive a good many volumes of verse, do you not?” she said, with a +look which implied that she knew I did. + +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 + + “All Bedlam or Parnassus is let out”! + +What were the numbers of the + + “Mob of gentlemen who wrote with ease” + +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? + +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. + +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. + +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! + +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. + +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.” + +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. + +(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? + +--What nonsense for me to be arranging matters between two people +strangers to each other before to-day!) + +“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. + +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:-- + + When darkness veils the evening.... + I love to close my weary.... + +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. + +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. + +“That's the way,--that 's the way!” exclaimed he. “It's just the same +thing as my plan for teaching drawing.” + +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. + +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:-- + + “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.” + +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: + +“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.” + +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. + +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, + + “Was great, nor knew how great he was.” + +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. + +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.” + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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? + +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. + +“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.” + +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. + +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. + +--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: + + 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? + +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.” + +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? + +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. + +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.” + +“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: + +“'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. + +“'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.' + +“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. + +“'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.' + +“'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.” + +“Is not poetry the natural language of lovers?” + +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. + +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.” + +“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.” + +“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?” + +The Counsellor turned,--not to Number Five, as he ought to have done, +according to my programme, but to the Mistress. + +“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.” + +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. + +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. + +The following verses were found in the urn, or sugar-bowl. + + 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. + + + + +V + +“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. + +“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. + +“If you mean the concerts that have been going on this season, yes, I +do,” said the Professor, in a bland, good-humored way. + +“And do you take real pleasure in the din of all those screeching and +banging and growling instruments?” + +“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 + + “Linguae centum sent, oraque centum, + +“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.” + +“Do you understand it? Do you take any idea from it? Do you know what it +all means?” said Number Seven. + +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, + + “'Untwisting all the chains that tie + The hidden soul of harmony,' + +“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.” + +“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.” + +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. + +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. + +“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.” + +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. + +“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.” + +“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!” + +--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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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? + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +We got talking on the subject of realism, of which so much has been said +of late. + +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. + +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. + +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.” + +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. + +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. + +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.” + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +The silence that followed was broken by Number Seven's suddenly +exclaiming,-- + +“I should like to boss creation for a week!” + +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. + +“What is the first thing you would do?” asked Number Five in a pleasant, +easy way. + +“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.” + +“Why,” said she, “that was tried once, and does not seem to have worked +very well.” + +“Very likely. You mean Noah's flood, I suppose. More people nowadays, +and a better lot to pick from than Noah had.” + +“Do tell us whom you would take with you,” said Number Five. + +“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.” + +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. + +This train of reflections must not carry me away from Number Seven. + +“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.” + +“You know Sir Walter Raleigh's 'History of the World,' of course?” said +the Professor. + +“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.” + +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. + +“How many words do you think I shall want?” + +It is a formula, I suppose, I said, and I will grant you a hundred +words. + +“Twenty,” said the Professor. “That was more than the wise men of Greece +wanted for their grand utterances.” + +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. + +“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.” + +“Guess as much as you like,” said Number Seven. + +“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? + +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. + +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. + +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, + + His hook he baited with a dragon's tail, + And sat upon a rock and bobbed for whale. + +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. + +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.” + +--After the teacups were all emptied, the card containing Number Seven's +abridged history of two worlds, this and the next, was handed round. + +This was all it held: + +After all had looked at it, it was passed back to me. “Let The Dictator +interpret it,” they all said. + +This is what I announced as my interpretation: + +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? + +“You are right,” answered Number Seven solemnly. “That is my +revelation.” + +The following poem was found in the sugar-bowl. + +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. + + 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! + + + + +VI + +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.” + +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. + +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. + +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? + +“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”-- + +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. + +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. + +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. + +“Is the last word to be spelt with one or two s's?” asked the young +Doctor. + +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. + +The company looked puzzled, and asked for an explanation. + +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. + +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.” + +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, + + “Silva tredi mondi goo.” + +I saw, soon after this, that the Counsellor was watching his chance to +“stir up the young Doctor.” + +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. + +“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. + +“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.” + +“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.” + +“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.” + +“Why, Doctor, you are as bad as a Mormon. What do you mean by calling +certain families yours?” + +“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?” + +“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.” + +“Well, there is some truth in that; but did you think the old-fashioned +family doctor was extinct, a fossil like the megatherium?” + +“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?” + +The young Doctor said he should be mightily pleased to hear it. He was +going to be one of those old-fogy practitioners himself. + +“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: + +“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. + +“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. + +“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.' + +“'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. + +“'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?' + +“'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.' + +“'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.'” + +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. + + The young Doctor discourses. + +“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. + +“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. + +“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.' + +“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. + +“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.” + +The teaspoons tinkled all round the table. This was the usual sign of +approbation, instead of the clapping of hands. + +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.” + +“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?” + +“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.” + +“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?” + +“I hope I should be equal to that emergency,” answered the young Doctor; +“but I trust you are not suffering from any such accident?” + +“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?” + +“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.” + +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. + +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:”-- + + “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.” + +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. + +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.” + +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. + +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. + +Now, what did I expect when I began these papers, and what is it that +has begun to frighten me? + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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: + + “I see this hath a little dash'd your spirits. + Not a jot, not a jot. + ............. + “My lord, I see you're moved.” + +And a little later the reader might, like Othello, complain, + + “I have a pain upon my forehead here.” + +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. + +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! + +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: + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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: + + “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.” + +Surely for this loving and lovely child does + + “the celestial Light + Shine inward.” + +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? + +SOUTH BOSTON, MASS., March 1, 1890. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +I got a chance at last to speak privately with him. + +“Did Number Five go to meet you in your laboratory, as she talked of +doing?” + +“Oh, yes, of course she did,--why, she said she would!” + +“Oh, to be sure. Do tell me what she wanted in your laboratory.” + +“She wanted me to burn a diamond for her.” + +“Burn a diamond! What was that for? Because Cleopatra swallowed a +pearl?” + +“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.” + +“Was that all that happened?” + +“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.” + +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. + + 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. + + + + +VII + +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, + + “Taketh every form of air, + And every shape of earth, + And comes unbidden everywhere, + Like thought's mysterious birth,” + +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. + +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. + +--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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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: + + 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!” + +“The immediate dismissal of the 'little maid' was the consequence.” + +I may as well say that our Delilah was not in the room when the last +sentence was read. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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.” + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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: + +“When I hear a new book talked about or have it pressed upon me, I read +an old one.” + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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! + +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? + +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. + +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. + +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.” + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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.” + +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. + +“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!” + +Number Seven lifted his teacup to his lips, and most of us followed his +example. + +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. + +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. + +“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. + +“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.” + +“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.” + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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:-- + +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. + +Something like the experience of Louis the Fourteenth was that of the +owner of + + THE TERRIBLE CLOCK. + +I give the story as transcribed from the original manuscript:-- + +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. + +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. + +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. + +Gone! Yes, I said to myself, gone,--its record made up to be opened in +eternity. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + + 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. + + + + +VIII. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +“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.” + +“And why not your English maiden?” said Number Five. + +“What makes you think I care more for her than for her American friend?” + said the Tutor. + +“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.” + +“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.” + +“The one you are in love with,” answered Number Five. + +“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.” + +“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, + + “'Yet while my hector still survives, + I see My father, mother, brethren, all in thee!' + +“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.” + +The Tutor listened to Number Five with much apparent interest. “And +now,” he said, “what do you think of her companion?” + +“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.” + +“And so you advise me to make love to the English girl, do you?” asked +the Tutor. + +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. + +“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-- + + “How happy could I be with neither. + +“There are several young women in the world besides our two Annexes.” + +I question whether the Tutor had asked those questions very seriously, +and I doubt if Number Five thought he was very much in earnest. + +One of The Teacups reminded me that I had promised to say something of +my answers to certain questions. So I began at once: + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +[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.” + +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.] + +I paused a minute or two, and as no one spoke out; I put a question to +the Counsellor. + +Are you quite sure that you wish to live to be threescore and twenty +years old? + +“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.” + +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. + +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: + + 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. + +The world was a garden to me then; it is a churchyard now. + +“I thought you were one of those who looked upon old age cheerfully, and +welcomed it as a season of peace and contented enjoyment.” + +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.” + +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. + +“I. Can you, of your own personal experience, find any justification +whatever for the entertainment of prejudice towards individuals solely +because they are Jews? + +“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.' + +“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? + +“IV. Can you suggest what should be done to dispel the existing +prejudice?” + +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,-- + + “See what a living stone + The builders did refuse! + Yet God has built his church thereon, + In spite of envious Jews.” + +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. + +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. + +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: + +“This was Jehovah come down out of heaven. I will kill you if you say he +was a man.” + +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.'” + +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. + +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. + +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.” + +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. + + 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! + +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. + + Delilah, and how she got her name. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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.” + +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: + + 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! + + + + +IX + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +Conticuere omnes, as Virgil says. We were all silent as Number Seven +began the reading of his paper. + + Number Seven reads. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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”! + +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. + +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. + +“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.” + +“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.” + +“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. + +“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. + +“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. + +“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.” + +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. + +“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!” + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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”? + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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:-- + +“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: + +“'And how much does the man pay yez by the hour?' + +“'The gentleman does n't pay me by the hour,' said Hiram. + +“'How mosh does he bay you by der veeks?' said Hans. + +“'I don' know as that's any of your business,' answered Hiram. + +“'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.' + +“'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.' + +“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. + +“'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.' + +“The men made a move toward the implement. + +“'You let that are scoop-shovel alone,' said Hiram. + +“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. + +“'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.' + +“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. + +“'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!' + +“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.” + +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? + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + + Delilah. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +The fancy of Number Seven about the witches' broomsticks suggested to +one of us the following poem: + + 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! + + + + +X + +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? + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +“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.” + +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. + +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: + + WONDER OF WONDERS! + +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. + +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: + + “The man who hails you Tom or Jack, + And proves by thumping on your back + How he esteems your merit.” + +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. + +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, + + Comme je regrette + Mon bras si dodu, + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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.” + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + + The Dictator turns preacher. + +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. + +The subject which has specially interested Number Five and myself, of +late, was suggested to me in the following way. + +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. + +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. + +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.” + +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. + +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. + +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?” + +“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.” + +By and by, Mrs. Edwards, one of the loveliest of women and sweetest of +mothers, comes into the nursery. The child is crying. + +“What is the matter, my darling?” + +“Papa has been telling me that God hates me worse than a snake.” + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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, + + “He never mentioned hell to ears polite,” + +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, + + “The fear o' hell 's a hangman's whip + To haud the wretch in order,” + +he was only appealing to the common sense and common humanity of his +fellow-countrymen. + +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.” + +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.” + +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. + +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. + + “Go to it grandam, child; + Give grandam kingdom, and it grandam will + Give it a plum, a cherry and a fig.” + +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, + + “To justify the ways of God to man.” + +We have heard Milton's argument, but for the realization of his vision +of the time + + “When Hell itself shall pass away, + And leave her dolorous mansions to the peering day,” + +our suffering race must wait in patience. + +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. + +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? + +“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.'” + +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. + +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?” + +Remember that Number Seven is called a “crank” by many persons, and take +his remarks for just what they are worth, and no more. + +Out of the preceding conversation must have originated the following +poem, which was found in the common receptacle of these versified +contributions: + + 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! + + + + +XI + + The tea is sweetened. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +“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?” + +“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”.... + +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. + +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. + +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,-- + + Siste, viator! + Si uxorem requiris, circumspice! + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +“She is to be our young Doctor's wife!” the Mistress whispered to me, +and did some more crying, not for grief, certainly. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + + Commencements and other Celebrations, American and English. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +The entertainment on this occasion was of the most varied character. The +programme makes the following announcement: + + 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. + +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. + +At 9.30 Mrs. Haweis will join the assembly. + +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. + +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.” + +Stall No. 1. Edisoniana, or the Phonograph. Alluded to by the Roman Poet +as Vox, et praeterea nihil. + +Stall No. 2. Money-changing. + +Stall No. 3. Programmes and General Enquiries. + +Stall No. 4. Roses. + +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. + +Stall No. 5. Lasenby Liberty Stall. (I cannot explain this. Probably +articles from Liberty's famous establishment.) + +Stall No. 6. Historical Costumes and Ceramics. + +Stall No. 7. The Fish-pond. + +Stall No. 8. Varieties. + +Stall No. 9. Bookstall. (Books) “highly recommended for insomnia; +friends we never speak to, and always cut if we want to know them well.” + +Stall No. 10. Icelandic. + +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. + +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. + +At 9.45, First Concert. + +At 10.45, An Address of Welcome by Rev. H. R. Haweis. + +At 11 P. M., Bird-warbling Interlude by Miss Mabel Stephenson, U. S. A. + +At 11.20, Second Concert. + + NOTICE! + +Three Great Pictures. + +LORD TENNYSON. G. F. Watts, R. A. JOHN STUART MILL G. F. Watts, R. A. +JOSEPH GARIBALDI Sig. Rondi. + + NOTICE! + +A Famous Violin. + +A world-famed Stradivarius Violin, for which Mr. Hill, of Bond Street, +gave L 1000, etc., etc. + + REFRESHMENTS. + +Tickets for Tea, Coffee, Sandwiches, Iced Drinks, or Ices, Sixpence +each, etc., etc. + +I hope my American reader is pleased and interested by this glimpse of +the way in which they do these things in London. + +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. + +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. + +What is it that sets you laughing so? said I. + +“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? + + “My house is on fire! + Bring me my lyre! + Like the flames that rise heavenward my song shall aspire! + +“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? + + “My beloved, to you + I will always be true. + Oh, pray make me happy, my love, do! do! do! + +“What would Amanda think of a suitor who courted her with a rhyming +dictionary in his pocket to help him make love?” + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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”? + +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. + +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? + +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. + +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. + +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. + + 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! + + + + +XII + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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! + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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? + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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! + +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. + +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? + +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? + +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. + +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? + +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. + + “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!” + +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. + +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. + + .......................... + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +“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. + +“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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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? + +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! + +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? + +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. + +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.” + +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. + +When one of the ancient poets found he was trying to grind out verses +which came unwillingly, he said he was writing-- + + 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. + +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. + + + + + +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 2689-0.txt or 2689-0.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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