the professor at the breakfast table-第9节

按键盘上方向键 ← 或 → 可快速上下翻页，按键盘上的 Enter 键可回到本书目录页，按键盘上方向键 ↑ 可回到本页顶部！
————未阅读完？加入书签已便下次继续阅读！





The　inner　world　of　thought　and　the　outer　world　of　events　are　alike　in

this；　that　they　are　both　brimful。　　There　is　no　space　between

consecutive　thoughts；　or　between　the　never…ending　series　of　actions。

All　pack　tight；　and　mould　their　surfaces　against　each　other；　so　that

in　the　long　run　there　is　a　wonderful　average　uniformity　in　the　forms

of　both　thoughts　and　actions；　just　as　you　find　that　cylinders　crowded

all　become　hexagonal　prisms；　and　spheres　pressed　together　are　formed

into　regular　polyhedra。



Every　event　that　a　man　would　master　must　be　mounted　on　the　run；　and

no　man　ever　caught　the　reins　of　a　thought　except　as　it　galloped　by

him。　　So；　to　carry　out；　with　another　comparison；　my　remark　about　the

layers　of　thought；　we　may　consider　the　mind　as　it　moves　among

thoughts　or　events；　like　a　circus…rider　whirling　round　with　a　great

troop　of　horses。　　He　can　mount　a　fact　or　an　idea；　and　guide　it　more

or　less　completely；　but　he　cannot　stop　it。　　So；　as　I　said　in　another

way　at　the　beginning；　he　can　stride　two　or　three　thoughts　at　once；

but　not　break　their　steady　walk；　trot；　or　gallop。　　He　can　only　take

his　foot　from　the　saddle　of　one　thought　and　put　it　on　that　of

another。



What　is　the　saddle　of　a　thought？　　Why；　a　word；　of　course。　Twenty

years　after　you　have　dismissed　a　thought；　it　suddenly　wedges　up　to

you　through　the　press；　as　if　it　had　been　steadily　galloping　round　and

round　all　that　time　without　a　rider。



The　will　does　not　act　in　the　interspaces　of　thought；　for　there　are　no

such　interspaces；　but　simply　steps　from　the　back　of　one　moving

thought　upon　that　of　another。



I　should　like　to　ask；said　the　divinity…student；since　we　are

getting　into　metaphysics；　how　you　can　admit　space；　if　all　things　are

in　contact；　and　how　you　can　admit　time；　if　it　is　always　now　to

something？



I　thought　it　best　not　to　hear　this　question。



I　wonder　if　you　know　this　class　of　philosophers　in　books　or

elsewhere。　　One　of　them　makes　his　bow　to　the　public；　and　exhibits　an

unfortunate　truth　bandaged　up　so　that　it　cannot　stir　hand　or　foot；

as　helpless；　apparently；　and　unable　to　take　care　of　itself；　as　an

Egyptian　mummy。　　He　then　proceeds；　with　the　air　and　method　of　a

master；　to　take　off　the　bandages。　　Nothing　can　be　neater　than　the　way

in　which　he　does　it。　　But　as　he　takes　off　layer　after　layer；　the

truth　seems　to　grow　smaller　and　smaller；　and　some　of　its　outlines

begin　to　look　like　something　we　have　seen　before。　　At　last；　when　he

has　got　them　all　off；　and　the　truth　struts　out　naked；　we　recognize　it

as　a　diminutive　and　familiar　acquaintance　whom　we　have　known　in　the

streets　all　our　lives。　　The　fact　is；　the　philosopher　has　coaxed　the

truth　into　his　study　and　put　all　those　bandages　on；　or　course　it　is

not　very　hard　for　him　to　take　them　off。　　Still；　a　great　many　people

like　to　watch　the　process；he　does　it　so　neatly！



Dear！　　dear！　　I　am　ashamed　to　write　and　talk；　sometimes；　when　I　see

how　those　functions　of　the　large…brained；　thumb…opposing　plantigrade

are　abused　by　my　fellow…vertebrates；perhaps　by　myself。　　How　they

spar　for　wind；　instead　of　hitting　from　the　shoulder！



The　young　fellow　called　John　arose　and　placed　himself　in　a　neat

fighting　attitude。　Fetch　on　the　fellah　that　makes　them　long　words！

he　said；and　planted　a　straight　hit　with　the　right　fist　in　the

concave　palm　of　the　left　hand　with　a　click　like　a　cup　and　ball。　You

small　boy　there；　hurry　up　that　〃Webster's　Unabridged！〃



The　little　gentleman　with　the　malformation；　before　described；　shocked

the　propriety　of　the　breakfast…table　by　a　loud　utterance　of　three

words；　of　which　the　two　last　were　〃Webster's　Unabridged；〃　and　the

first　was　an　emphatic　monosyllable。　Beg　pardon；he　added；forgot

myself。　　But　let　us　have　an　English　dictionary；　if　we　are　to　have

any。　　I　don't　believe　in　clipping　the　coin　of　the　realm；　Sir！　　If　I

put　a　weathercock　on　my　house；　Sir；　I　want　it　to　tell　which　way　the

wind　blows　up　aloft；off　from　the　prairies　to　the　ocean；　or　off　from

the　ocean　to　the　prairies；　or　any　way　it　wants　to　blow！　　I　don't　want

a　weathercock　with　a　winch　in　an　old　gentleman's　study　that　he　can

take　hold　of　and　turn；　so　that　the　vane　shall　point　west　when　the

great　wind　overhead　is　blowing　east　with　all　its　might；　Sir！　　Wait

till　we　give　you　a　dictionary；　Sir！　　It　takes　Boston　to　do　that

thing；　Sir！



Some　folks　think　water　can't　run　down…hill　anywhere　out　of　Boston；

remarked　the　Koh…i…noor。



I　don't　know　what　some　folks　think　so　well　as　I　know　what　some　fools

say；rejoined　the　Little　Gentleman。　If　importing　most　dry　goods

made　the　best　scholars；　I　dare　say　you　would　know　where　to　look　for

'em。　Mr。　Webster　could　n't　spell；　Sir；　or　would　n't　spell；　Sir；at

any　rate；　he　did　n't　spell；　and　the　end　of　it　was　a　fight　between　the

owners　of　some　copyrights　and　the　dignity　of　this　noble　language

which　we　have　inherited　from　our　English　fathers。　　Language！　the

blood　of　the　soul；　Sir！　into　which　our　thoughts　run　and　out　of　which

they　grow！　　We　know　what　a　word　is　worth　here　in　Boston。　　Young　Sam

Adams　got　up　on　the　stage　at　Commencement；　out　at　Cambridge　there；

with　his　gown　on；　the　Governor　and　Council　looking　on　in　the　name　of

his　Majesty；　King　George　the　Second；　and　the　girls　looking　down　out

of　the　galleries；　and　taught　people　how　to　spell　a　word　that　was　n't

in　the　Colonial　dictionaries　！　　R…e；　re；　s…i…s；　sis；　t…a…n…c…e；

tance；　Resistance！　　That　was　in　'43；　and　it　was　a　good　many　years

before　the　Boston　boys　began　spelling　it　with　their　muskets；but

when　they　did　begin；　they　spelt　it　so　loud　that　the　old　bedridden

women　in　the　English　almshouses　heard　every　syllable！　　Yes；　yes；

yes；it　was　a　good　while　before　those　other　two　Boston　boys　got　the

class　so　far　along　that　it　could　spell　those　two　hard　words；

Independence　and　Union！　　I　tell　you　what；　Sir；　there　are　a　thousand

lives；　aye；　sometimes　a　million；　go　to　get　a　new　word　into　a　language

that　is　worth　speaking。　　We　know　what　language　means　too　well　here　in

Boston　to　play　tricks　with　it。　　We　never　make　a　new　word　til　we　have

made　a　new　thing　or　a　new　thought；　Sir！　then　we　shaped　the　new　mould

of　this　continent；　we　had　to　make　a　few。　　When；　by　God's　permission；

we　abrogated　the　primal　curse　of　maternity；　we　had　to　make　a　word　or

two。　　The　cutwater　of　this　great　Leviathan　clipper；　the　OCCIDENTAL；

this　thirty…wasted　wind…and…steam　wave…crusher；must　throw　a　little

spray　over　the　human　vocabulary　as　it　splits　the　waters　of　a　new

world's　destiny！



He　rose　as　he　spoke；　until　his　stature　seemed　to　swell　into　the　fair

human　proportions。　　His　feet　must　have　been　on　the　upper　round　of　his

high　chair；　that　was　the　only　way　I　could　account　for　it。



Puts　her　through　fast…rate；said　the　young　fellow　whom　the　boarders

call　John。



The　venerable　and　kind…looking　old　gentleman　who　sits　opposite　said

he　remembered　Sam　Adams　as　Governor。　　An　old　man　in　a　brown　coat。

Saw　him　take　the　Chair　on　Boston　Common。　　Was　a　boy　then；　and

remembers　sitting　on　the　fence　in　front　of　the　old　Hancock　house。

Recollects　he　had　a　glazed　'lectionbun；　and　sat　eating　it　and　looking

down　on　to　the　Common。　　Lalocks　flowered　late　that　year；　and　he　got　a

great　bunch　off　from　the　bushes　in　the　Hancock　front…yard。



Them　'lection…buns　are　no　go；said　the　young　man　John；　so　called。

I　know　the　trick。　　Give　a　fellah　a　fo'penny　bun　in　the　mornin'；　an'

he　downs　the　whole　of　it。　　In　about　an　hour　it　swells　up　in　his

stomach　as　big　as　a　football；　and　his　feedin'　's　spilt　for　that　day。

That's　the　way　to　stop　off　a　young　one　from　eatin'　up　all　the

'lection　dinner。



Salem！　　Salem！　not　Boston；shouted　the　little　man。



But　the　Koh…i…noor　laughed　a　great　rasping　laugh；　and　the　boy

Benjamin　Franklin　looked　sharp　at　his　mother；　as　if　he　remembered　the

bun…experiment　as　a　part　of　his　past　personal　history。



The　Little　Gentleman　was　holding　a　fork　in　his　left　hand。　　He　stabbed

a　boulder　of　home…made　bread　with　it；　mechanically；　and　looked　at　it

as　if　it　ought　to　shriek。　　It　did　not；but　he　sat　as　if　watching　it。



Language　is　a　solemn　thing；I　said。　It　grows　out　of　life；out

of　its　agonies　and　ecstasies；　its　wants　and　its　weariness。　　Every

language　is　a　temple；　in　which　the　soul　of　those　who　speak　it　is

enshrined。　　Because　time　softens　its　outlines　and　rounds　the　sharp

angles　of　its　cornices；　shall　a　fellow　take　a　pickaxe　to　help　time？

Let　me　tell　you　what　comes　of　meddling　with　things　that　can　take　care

of　themselves。　A　friend　of　mine　had　a　watch　given　him；　when　he　was

a　boy；a　〃bull's　eye；〃　with　a　loose　silver　case　that　came　off　like

an　oyster…shell　from　its　contents；　you　know　them；the　cases　that　you

hang　on　your　thumb；　while　the　core；　or　the　real　watch；　lies　in　your

hand　as　naked　as　a　peeled　apple。　　Well；　he　began　with　taking　off　the

case；　and　so　on　from　one　liberty　to　another；　until　he　got　it　fairly

open；　and　there　were　the　works；　as　good　as　if　they　were　alive；

crown…wheel；　balance…wheel；　and　all　t