a mortal antipathy-第19章

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to　that　of　threescore　and　ten。　　The　face　might　be　an　uninteresting

one；　still；　as　sharing　the　inevitable　changes　wrought　by　time；　it

would　be　worth　looking　at　as　it　passed　through　the　curve　of　life；

the　vital　parabola；　which　betrays　itself　in　the　symbolic　changes　of

the　features。　　An　inscription　is　the　same　thing；　whether　we　read　it

on　slate…stone；　or　granite；　or　marble。　　To　watch　the　lights　and

shades；　the　reliefs　and　hollows；　of　a　countenance　through　a　lifetime；

or　a　large　part　of　it；　by　the　aid　of　a　continuous　series　of

photographs　would　not　only　be　curious；　it　would　teach　us　much　more

about　the　laws　of　physiognomy　than　we　could　get　from　casual　and

unconnected　observations。



The　same　kind　of　interest；　without　any　assumption　of　merit　to　be

found　in　them；　I　would　claim　for　a　series　of　annual　poems；　beginning

in　middle　life　and　continued　to　what　many　of　my　correspondents　are

pleased　to　remind　meas　if　I　required　to　have　the　fact　brought　to　my

knowledgeis　no　longer　youth。　　Here　is　the　latest　of　a　series　of

annual　poems　read　during　the　last　thirty…four　years。　　There　seems　to

have　been　one　interruption；　but　there　may　have　been　other　poems　not

recorded　or　remembered。　　This；　the　latest　poem　of　the　series；　was

listened　to　by　the　scanty　remnant　of　what　was　a　large　and　brilliant

circle　of　classmates　and　friends　when　the　first　of　the　long　series

was　read　before　them；　then　in　the　flush　of　ardent　manhood：





　　　　　THE　OLD　SONG。



The　minstrel　of　the　classic　lay

Of　love　and　wine　who　sings

Still　found　the　fingers　run　astray

That　touched　the　rebel　strings。



Of　Cadmus　he　would　fair　have　sung；

Of　Atreus　and　his　line；

But　all　the　jocund　echoes　rung

With　songs　of　love　and　wine。



Ah；　brothers！　　I　would　fair　have　caught

Some　fresher　fancy's　gleam；

My　truant　accents　find；　unsought；

The　old　familiar　theme。



Love；　Love！　but　not　the　sportive　child

With　shaft　and　twanging　bow；

Whose　random　arrows　drove　us　wild

Some　threescore　years　ago；



Not　Eros；　with　his　joyous　laugh；

The　urchin　blind　and　bare；

But　Love；　with　spectacles　and　staff；

And　scanty；　silvered　hair。



Our　heads　with　frosted　locks　are　white；

Our　roofs　are　thatched　with　snow；

But　red；　in　chilling　winter's　spite；

Our　hearts　and　hearthstones　glow。



Our　old　acquaintance；　Time；　drops　in；

And　while　the　running　sands

Their　golden　thread　unheeded　spin；

He　warms　his　frozen　hands。



Stay；　winged　hours；　too　swift；　too　sweet；

And　waft　this　message　o'er

To　all　we　miss；　from　all　we　meet

On　life's　fast…crumbling　shore：



Say　that　to　old　affection　true

We　hug　the　narrowing　chain

That　binds　our　hearts；alas；　how　few

The　links　that　yet　remain！



The　fatal　touch　awaits　them　all

That　turns　the　rocks　to　dust；

》From　year　to　year　they　break　and　fall；

They　break；　but　never　rust。



Say　if　one　note　of　happier　strain

This　worn…out　harp　afford；

One　throb　that　trembles；　not　in　vain；

Their　memory　lent　its　chord。



Say　that　when　Fancy　closed　her　wings

And　Passion　quenched　his　fire；

Love；　Love；　still　echoed　from　the　strings

As　from　Anacreon's　lyre！



January　8；　1885。









VII



A　RECORD　OF　ANTIPATHIES



In　thinking　the　whole　matter　over；　Dr。　Butts　felt　convinced　that；

with　care　and　patience　and　watching　his　opportunity；　he　should　get　at

the　secret；　which　so　far　bad　yielded　nothing　but　a　single　word。　　It

might　be　asked　why　he　was　so　anxious　to　learn　what；　from　all

appearances；　the　young　stranger　was　unwilling　to　explain。　　He　may

have　been　to　some　extent　infected　by　the　general　curiosity　of　the

persons　around　him；　in　which　good　Mrs。　Butts　shared；　and　which　she

had　helped　to　intensify　by　revealing　the　word　dropped　by　Paolo。　　But

this　was　not　really　his　chief　motive。　　He　could　not　look　upon　this

young　man；　living　a　life　of　unwholesome　solitude；　without　a　natural

desire　to　do　all　that　his　science　and　his　knowledge　of　human　nature

could　help　him　to　do　towards　bringing　him　into　healthy　relations　with

the　world　about　him。　　Still；　he　would　not　intrude　upon　him　in　any

way。　　He　would　only　make　certain　general　investigations；　which　might

prove　serviceable　in　case　circumstances　should　give　him　the　right　to

counsel　the　young　man　as　to　his　course　of　life。　　The　first　thing　to

be　done　was　to　study　systematically　the　whole　subject　of　antipathies。

Then；　if　any　further　occasion　offered　itself；　he　would　be　ready　to

take　advantage　of　it。　　The　resources　of　the　Public　Library　of　the

place　and　his　own　private　collection　were　put　in　requisition　to

furnish　him　the　singular　and　widely　scattered　facts　of　which　he　was

in　search。



It　is　not　every　reader　who　will　care　to　follow　Dr。　Butts　in　his　study

of　the　natural　history　of　antipathies。　　The　stories　told　about　them

are；　however；　very　curious；　and　if　some　of　them　may　be　questioned；

there　is　no　doubt　that　many　of　the　strangest　are　true；　and

consequently　take　away　from　the　improbability　of　others　which　we　are

disposed　to　doubt。



But　in　the　first　place；　what　do　we　mean　by　an　antipathy？　　It　is　an

aversion　to　some　object；　which　may　vary　in　degree　from　mere　dislike

to　mortal　horror。　　What　the　cause　of　this　aversion　is　we　cannot　say。

It　acts　sometimes　through　the　senses；　sometimes　through　the

imagination；　sometimes　through　an　unknown　channel。　　The　relations

which　exist　between　the　human　being　and　all　that　surrounds　him　vary

in　consequence　of　some　adjustment　peculiar　to　each　individual。　　The

brute　fact　is　expressed　in　the　phrase　〃One　man's　meat　is　another

man's　poison。〃



In　studying　the　history　of　antipathies　the　doctor　began　with　those

referable　to　the　sense　of　taste；　which　are　among　the　most　common。　　In

any　collection　of　a　hundred　persons　there　will　be　found　those　who

cannot　make　use　of　certain　articles　of　food　generally　acceptable。

This　may　be　from　the　disgust　they　occasion　or　the　effects　they　have

been　found　to　produce。　　Every　one　knows　individuals　who　cannot

venture　on　honey；　or　cheese；　or　veal；　with　impunity。　　Carlyle；　for

example；　complains　of　having　veal　set　before　him；a　meat　he　could

not　endure。　　There　is　a　whole　family　connection　in　New　England；　and

that　a　very　famous　one；　to　many　of　whose　members；　in　different

generations；　all　the　products　of　the　dairy　are　the　subjects　of　a

congenital　antipathy。　　Montaigne　says　there　are　persons　who　dread　the

smell　of　apples　more　than　they　would　dread　being　exposed　to　a　fire　of

musketry。　　The　readers　of　the　charming　story　〃A　Week　in　a　French

Country…House〃　will　remember　poor　Monsieur　Jacque's　piteous　cry　in

the　night：　〃Ursula；　art　thou　asleep？　　Oh；　Ursula；　thou　sleepest；　but

I　cannot　close　my　eyes。　　Dearest　Ursula；　there　is　such　a　dreadful

smell！　　Oh；　Ursula；　it　is　such　a　smell！　　I　do　so　wish　thou　couldst

smell　it！　　Good…night；　my　angel！Dearest！　　I　have　found　them！

They　are　apples！　　〃The　smell　of　roses；　of　peonies；　of　lilies；　has

been　known　to　cause　faintness。　　The　sight　of　various　objects　has　had

singular　effects　on　some　persons。　　A　boar's　head　was　a　favorite　dish

at　the　table　of　great　people　in　Marshal　d'Albret's　time；　yet　he　used

to　faint　at　the　sight　of　one。　　It　is　not　uncommon　to　meet　with

persons　who　faint　at　the　sight　of　blood。　　One　of　the　most

inveterately　pugnacious　of　Dr。　Butts's　college…mates　confessed　that

he　had　this　infirmity。　　Stranger　and　far　more　awkward　than　this　is

the　case　mentioned　in　an　ancient　collection；　where　the　subject　of　the

antipathy　fainted　at　the　sight　of　any　object　of　a　red　color。　　There

are　sounds；　also；　which　have　strange　effects　on　some　individuals。

Among　the　obnoxious　noises　are　the　crumpling　of　silk　stuffs；　the

sound　of　sweeping；　the　croaking　of　frogs。　　The　effects　in　different

cases　have　been　spasms；　a　sense　of　strangling；　profuse　sweating；all

showing　a　profound　disturbance　of　the　nervous　system。



All　these　effects　were　produced　by　impressions　on　the　organs　of

sense；　seemingly　by　direct　agency　on　certain　nerve　centres。　　But

there　is　another　s