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第5章

over the teacups-第5章

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say;I look round for them; and see only their vacant places。  The

old vine cannot unwind its tendrils。  The branch falls with the decay

of its support; and must cling to the new growths around it; if it

would not lie helpless in the dust。  This paper is a new tendril;

feeling its way; as it best may; to whatever it can wind around。  The

thought of finding here and there an old friend; and making; it may

be; once in a while a new one; is very grateful to me。  The chief

drawback to the pleasure is the feeling that I am submitting to that

inevitable exposure which is the penalty of authorship in every form。

A writer must make up his mind to the possible rough treatment of the

critics; who swarm like bacteria whenever there is any literary

material on which they can feed。  I have had as little to complain of

as most writers; yet I think it is always with reluctance that one

encounters the promiscuous handling which the products of the mind

have to put up with; as much as the fruit and provisions in the

market…stalls。  I had rather be criticised; however; than criticise;

that is; express my opinions in the public prints of other writers'

work; if they are living; and can suffer; as I should often have to

make them。  There are enough; thank Heaven; without me。  We are

literary cannibals; and our writers live on each other and each

other's productions to a fearful extent。  What the mulberry leaf is

to the silk…worm; the author's book; treatise; essay; poem; is to the

critical larva; that feed upon it。  It furnishes them with food and

clothing。  The process may not be agreeable to the mulberry leaf or

to the printed page; but without it the leaf would not have become

the silk that covers the empress's shoulders; and but for the critic

the author's book might never have reached the scholar's table。

Scribblers will feed on each other; and if we insist on being

scribblers we must consent to be fed on。  We must try to endure

philosophically what we cannot help; and ought not; I suppose; to

wish to help。



It is the custom at our table to vary the usual talk; by the reading

of short papers; in prose or verse; by one or more of The Teacups; as

we are in the habit of calling those who make up our company。  Thirty

years ago; one of our present circle… 〃Teacup Number Two;〃 The

Professor;read a paper on Old Age; at a certain Breakfast…table;

where he was in the habit of appearing。  That paper was published at

the time; and has since seen the light in other forms。  He did not

know so much about old age then as he does now; and would doubtless

write somewhat differently if he took the subject up again。  But I

found that it was the general wish that another of our company should

let us hear what he had to say about it。  I received a polite note;

requesting me to discourse about old age; inasmuch as I was

particularly well qualified by my experience to write in an

authoritative way concerning it。  The fact is that I;for it is

myself who am speaking;have recently arrived at the age of

threescore years and twenty;fourscore years we may otherwise call

it。  In the arrangement of our table; I am Teacup Number One; and I

may as well say that I am often spoken of as The Dictator。  There is

nothing invidious in this; as I am the oldest of the company; and no

claim is less likely to excite jealousy than that of priority of

birth。



I received congratulations on reaching my eightieth birthday; not

only from our circle of Teacups; but from friends; near and distant;

in large numbers。  I tried to acknowledge these kindly missives with

the aid of a most intelligent secretary ; but I fear that there were

gifts not thanked for; and tokens of good…will not recognized。  Let

any neglected correspondent be assured that it was not intentionally

that he or she was slighted。  I was grateful for every such mark of

esteem; even for the telegram from an unknown friend in a distant

land; for which I cheerfully paid the considerable charge which the

sender doubtless knew it would give me pleasure to disburse for such

an expression of friendly feeling。



I will not detain the reader any longer from the essay I have

promised。



This is the paper read to The Teacups。



It is in A Song of Moses that we find the words; made very familiar

to us by the Episcopal Burial Service; which place the natural limit

on life at threescore years and ten; with an extra ten years for some

of a stronger constitution than the average。  Yet we are told that

Moses himself lived to be a hundred and twenty years old; and that

his eye was not dim nor his natural strength abated。  This is hard to

accept literally; but we need not doubt that he was very old; and in

remarkably good condition for a man of his age。  Among his followers

was a stout old captain; Caleb; the son of Jephunneh。  This ancient

warrior speaks of himself in these brave terms: 〃Lo; I am this day

fourscore and five years old。  As yet; I am as strong this day as I

was in the day that Moses sent me; as my strength was then; even so

is my strength now; for war; both to go out and to come in。〃  It is

not likely that anybody believed his brag about his being as good a

man for active service at eighty…five as he was at forty; when Moses

sent him out to spy the land of Canaan。  But he was; no doubt; lusty

and vigorous for his years; and ready to smite the Canaanites hip and

thigh; and drive them out; and take possession of their land; as he

did forthwith; when Moses gave him leave。



Grand old men there were; three thousand years ago!  But not all

octogenarians were like Caleb; the son of Jephunneh。  Listen to poor

old Barzillai; and hear him piping: 〃I am this day fourscore years

old; and can I discern between good and evil?  Can thy servant taste

what I eat or what I drink ?  Can I hear any more the voice of

singing men and singing women?  Wherefore; then; should thy servant

be yet a burden unto my lord the king?〃  And poor King David was

worse off than this; as you all remember; at the early age of

seventy。



Thirty centuries do not seem to have made any very great difference

in the extreme limits of life。  Without pretending to rival the

alleged cases of life prolonged beyond the middle of its second

century; such as those of Henry Jenkins and Thomas Parr; we can make

a good showing of centenarians and nonagenarians。  I myself remember

Dr。 Holyoke; of Salem; son of a president of Harvard College; who

answered a toast proposed in his honor at a dinner given to him on

his hundredth birthday。



〃Father Cleveland;〃 our venerated city missionary; was born June 21;

1772; and died June 5; 1872; within a little more than a fortnight of

his hundredth birthday。  Colonel Perkins; of Connecticut; died

recently after celebrating his centennial anniversary。



Among nonagenarians; three whose names are well known to Bostonians;

Lord Lyndhurst; Josiah Quincy; and Sidney Bartlett; were remarkable

for retaining their faculties in their extreme age。  That patriarch

of our American literature; the illustrious historian of his country;

is still with us; his birth dating in 1800。



Ranke; the great German historian; died at the age of ninety…one; and

Chevreul; the eminent chemist; at that of a hundred and two。



Some English sporting characters have furnished striking examples of

robust longevity。  In Gilpin's 〃Forest Scenery〃 there is the story of

one of these horseback heroes。  Henry Hastings was the name of this

old gentleman; who lived in the time of Charles the First。  It would

be hard to find a better portrait of a hunting squire than that which

the Earl of Shaftesbury has the credit of having drawn of this very

peculiar personage。  His description ends by saying; 〃He lived to be

an hundred; and never lost his eyesight nor used spectacles。  He got

on horseback without help; and rode to the death of the stag till he

was past fourscore。〃



Everything depends on habit。  Old pe

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