over the teacups-第50部分

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！



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　hisconsciousness；

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　be　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　compl