over the teacups-第47部分

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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　be　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　betwen

Number　Five　and　the　Tutor。