over the teacups-第25节

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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　businesslet　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　morningI　am　telling　the　literal

trutha　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　Sebastianof　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　to