over the teacups-第51部分

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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　eccentricsone　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　be　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　〃here