over the teacups-第32章

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reader　will　turn　back　to　the　end　of　the　fourth　number　of　these

papers；　he　will　find　certain　lines　entitled；　〃Cacoethes　Scribendi。〃

They　were　said　to　have　been　taken　from　the　usual　receptacle　of　the

verses　which　are　contributed　by　The　Teacups；　and；　though　the　fact　was

not　mentioned；　were　of　my　own　composition。　　I　found　them　in

manuscript　in　my　drawer；　and　as　my　subject　had　naturally　suggested

the　train　of　thought　they　carried　out　into　extravagance；　I　printed

them。　　At　the　same　time　they　sounded　very　natural；　as　we　say；　and　I

felt　as　if　I　had　published　them　somewhere　or　other　before；　but　I

could　find　no　evidence　of　it；　and　so　I　ventured　to　have　them　put　in

type。



And　here　I　wish　to　take　breath　for　a　short；　separate　paragraph。　　I

have　often　felt；　after　writing　a　line　which　pleased　me　more　than

common；　that　it　was　not　new；　and　perhaps　was　not　my　own。　　I　have　very

rarely；　however；　found　such　a　coincidence　in　ideas　or　expression　as

would　be　enough　to　justify　an　accusation　of　unconscious　plagiarism；

conscious　plagiarism　is　not　my　particular　failing。　　I　therefore　say

my　say；　set　down　my　thought；　print　my　line；　and　do　not　heed　the

suspicion　that　I　may　not　be　as　original　as　I　supposed；　in　the　passage

I　have　been　writing。　　My　experience　may　be　worth　something　to　a

modest　young　writer；　and　so　I　have　interrupted　what　I　was　about　to

say　by　intercalating　this　paragraph。



In　this　instance　my　telltale　suspicion　had　not　been　at　fault。　　I　had

printed　those　same　lines；　years　ago；　in　〃The　Contributors'　Club；〃　to

which　I　have　rarely　sent　any　of　my　prose　or　verse。　　Nobody　but　the

editor　has　noticed　the　fact；　so　far　as　I　know。　　This　is　consoling；　or

mortifying；　I　hardly　know　which。　　I　suppose　one　has　a　right　to

plagiarize　from　himself；　but　he　does　not　want　to　present　his　work　as

fresh　from　the　workshop　when　it　has　been　long　standing　in　his

neighbor's　shop…window。



But　I　have　just　received　a　letter　from　a　brother　of　the　late　Henry

Howard　Brownell；　the　poet　of　the　Bay　Fight　and　the　River　Fight；　in

which　he　quotes　a　passage　from　an　old　book；　〃A　Heroine；　Adventures　of

Cherubina；〃　which　might　well　have　suggested　my　own　lines；　if　I　had

ever　seen　it。　　I　have　not　the　slightest　recollection　of　the　book　or

the　passage。　　I　think　its　liveliness　and　〃local　color〃　will　make　it

please　the　reader；　as　it　pleases　me；　more　than　my　own　more　prosaic

extravagances：





LINES　TO　A　PRETTY　LITTLE　MAID　OF　MAMMA'S。



〃If　Black　Sea；　Red　Sea；　White　Sea；　ran

One　tide　of　ink　to　Ispahan；

If　all　the　geese　in　Lincoln　fens

Produced　spontaneous　well…made　pens；

If　Holland　old　and　Holland　new

One　wondrous　sheet　of　paper　grew；

And　could　I　sing　but　half　the　grace

Of　half　a　freckle　in　thy　face；

Each　syllable　I　wrote　would　reach

》From　Inverness　to　Bognor's　beach；

Each　hair…stroke　be　a　river　Rhine；

Each　verse　an　equinoctial　line！〃





〃The　immediate　dismissal　of　the　'little　maid'　was　the　consequence。〃



I　may　as　well　say　that　our　Delilah　was　not　in　the　room　when　the　last

sentence　was　read。



Readers　must　be　either　very　good…natured　or　very　careless。　　I　have

laid　myself　open　to　criticism　by　more　than　one　piece　of　negligence；

which　has　been　passed　over　without　invidious　comment　by　the　readers

of　my　papers。　　How　could　I；　for　instance；　have　written　in　my　original

〃copy〃　for　the　printer　about　the　fisherman　baiting　his　hook　with　a

giant's　tail　instead　of　a　dragon's？　　It　is　the　automatic　fellow；Me…

Number…Two　of　our　dual　personality；who　does　these　things；　who

forgets　the　message　MeNumberOne　sends　down　to　him　from　the

cerebral　convolutions；　and　substitutes　a　wrong　word　for　the　right

one。　　I　suppose　MeNumberTwo　will　〃sass　back；〃　and　swear　that

〃giant's〃　was　the　message　which　came　down　from　headquarters。　　He　is

always　doing　the　wrong　thing　and　excusing　himself。　　Who　blows　out　the

gas　instead　of　shutting　it　off？　　Who　puts　the　key　in　the　desk　and

fastens　it　tight　with　the　spring　lock？　　Do　you　mean　to　say　that　the

upper　Me；　the　Me　of　the　true　thinking…marrow；　the　convolutions　of　the

brain；　does　not　know　better？　　Of　course　he　does；　and　Me…Number…Two　is

a　careless　servant；　who　remembers　some　old　direction；　and　follows

that　instead　of　the　one　just　given。



Number　Seven　demurred　to　this；　and　I　am　not　sure　that　he　is　wrong　in

so　doing。　　He　maintains　that　the　automatic　fellow　always　does　just

what　he　is　told　to　do。　　Number　Five　is　disposed　to　agree　with　him。

We　will　talk　over　the　question。



But　come；　now；　why　should　not　a　giant　have　a　tail　as　well　as　a

dragon？　　Linnaeus　admitted　the　homo　caudatus　into　his　anthropological

catalogue。　　The　human　embryo　has　a　very　well　marked　caudal　appendage；

that　is；　the　vertebral　column　appears　prolonged；　just　as　it　is　in　a

young　quadruped。　　During　the　late　session　of　the　Medical　Congress　at

Washington；　my　friend　Dr。　Priestley；　a　distinguished　London

physician；　of　the　highest　character　and　standing；　showed　me　the

photograph　of　a　small　boy；　some　three　or　four　years　old；　who　had　a

very　respectable　little　tail；　which　would　have　passed　muster　on　a

pig；　and　would　have　made　a　frog　or　a　toad　ashamed　of　himself。　　I　have

never　heard　what　became　of　the　little　boy；　nor　have　I　looked　in　the

books　or　journals　to　find　out　if　there　are　similar　cases　on　record；

but　I　have　no　doubt　that　there　are　others。　　And　if　boys　may　have　this

additional　ornament　to　their　vertebral　columns；　why　not　men？　　And　if

men；　why　not　giants？　　So　I　may　not　have　made　a　very　bad　blunder；

after　all；　and　my　reader　has　learned　something　about　the　homo

caudatus　as　spoken　of　by　Linnxus；　and　as　shown　me　in　photograph　by

Dr。　Priestley。　　This　child　is　a　candidate　for　the　vacant　place　of

Missing　Link。



In　accounting　for　the　blunders；　and　even　gross　blunders；　which；

sooner　or　later；　one　who　writes　much　is　pretty　sure　to　commit；　I　must

not　forget　the　part　played　by　the　blind　spot　or　idiotic　area　in　the

brain；　which　I　have　already　described。



The　most　knowing　persons　we　meet　with　are　sometimes　at　fault。　　Nova

onania　possumus　omnes　is　not　a　new　nor　profound　axiom；　but　it　is　well

to　remember　it　as　a　counterpoise　to　that　other　truly　American　saying

of　the　late　Mr。　Samuel　Patch；　〃Some　things　can　be　done　as　well　as

others。〃　　Yes；　some　things；　but　not　all　things。　　We　all　know　men　and

women　who　hate　to　admit　their　ignorance　of　anything。　　Like　Talkative

in　〃Pilgrim's　Progress；〃　they　are　ready　to　converse　of　〃things

heavenly　or　things　earthly；　things　moral　or　things　evangelical；

things　sacred　or　things　profane；　things　past　or　things　to　come；

things　foreign　or　things　at　home；　things　more　essential　or　things

circumstantial。〃



Talkative　is　apt　to　be　a　shallow　fellow；　and　to　say　foolish　things

about　matters　he　only　half　understands；　and　yet　he　has　his　place　in

society。　　The　specialists　would　grow　to　be　intolerable；　were　they　not

counterpoised　to　some　degree　by　the　people　of　general　intelligence。

The　man　who　knows　too　much　about　one　particular　subject　is　liable　to

become　a　terrible　social　infliction。　　Some　of　the　worst　bores　（to　use

plain　language）　we　ever　meet　with　are　recognized　as　experts　of　high

grade　in　their　respective　departments。　　Beware　of　making　so　much　as　a

pinhole　in　the　dam　that　holds　back　their　knowledge。　　They　ride　their

hobbies　without　bit　or　bridle。　　A　poet　on　Pegasus；　reciting　his　own

verses；　is　hardly　more　to　be　dreaded　than　a　mounted　specialist。



One　of　the　best　offices　which　women　perform　for　men　is　that　of

tasting　books　for　them。　　They　may　or　may　not　be　profound　students；

some　of　them　are；　but　we　do　not　expect　to　meet　women　like　Mrs。

Somerville；　or　Caroline　Herschel；　or　Maria　Mitchell　at　every　dinner…

table　or　afternoon　tea。　　But　give　your　elect　lady　a　pile　of　books　to

look　over　for　you；　and　she　will　tell　you　what　they　have　for　her　and

for　you　in　less　time　than　you　would　have　wasted　in　stupefying

yourself　over　a　single　volume。



One　of　the　encouraging　signs　of　the　times　is　the　condensed　and

abbreviated　form