the professor at the breakfast table-第21章

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miserable　victims　of　a　falsely…interpreted　religion　starved　and

withered　in　their　delusion。



I　have　looked　on　the　face　of　a　saintly　woman　this　very　day；　whose

creed　many　dread　and　hate；　but　whose　life　is　lovely　and　noble　beyond

all　praise。　　When　I　remember　the　bitter　words　I　have　heard　spoken

against　her　faith；　by　men　who　have　an　Inquisition　which

excommunicates　those　who　ask　to　leave　their　communion　in　peace；　and

an　Index　Expurgatorius　on　which　this　article　may　possibly　have　the

honor　of　figuring；and；　far　worse　than　these；　the　reluctant；

pharisaical　confession；　that　it　might　perhaps　be　possible　that　one

who　so　believed　should　be　accepted　of　the　Creator；and　then　recall

the　sweet　peace　and　love　that　show　through　all　her　looks；　the　price

of　untold　sacrifices　and　labors；　and　again　recollect　how　thousands　of

women；　filled　with　the　same　spirit；　die；　without　a　murmur；　to　earthly

life；　die　to　their　own　names　even；　that　they　may　know　nothing　but

their　holy　duties；while　men　are　torturing　and　denouncing　their

fellows；　and　while　we　can　hear　day　and　night　the　clinking　of　the

hammers　that　are　trying；　like　the　brute　forces　in　the　〃Prometheus；〃

to　rivet　their　adamantine　wedges　right　through　the　breast　of　human

nature；I　have　been　ready　to　believe　that　we　have　even　now　a　new

revelation；　and　the　name　of　its　Messiah　is　WOMAN！



I　should　be　sorry；I　remarked；　a　day　or　two　afterwards；　to　the

divinity…student；if　anything　I　said　tended　in　any　way　to　foster　any

jealousy　between　the　professions；　or　to　throw　disrespect　upon　that

one　on　whose　counsel　and　sympathies　almost　all　of　us　lean　in　our

moments　of　trial。　　But　we　are　false　to　our　new　conditions　of　life；　if

we　do　not　resolutely　maintain　our　religious　as　well　as　our　political

freedom；　in　the　face　of　any　and　all　supposed　monopolies。　　Certain　men

will；　of　course；　say　two　things；　if　we　do　not　take　their　views：

first；　that　we　don't　know　anything　about　these　matters；　and；

secondly；　that　we　are　not　so　good　as　they　are。　　They　have　a　polarized

phraseology　for　saying　these　things；　but　it　comes　to　precisely　that。

To　which　it　may　be　answered；　in　the　first　place；　that　we　have　good

authority　for　saying　that　even　babes　and　sucklings　know　something；

and；　in　the　second；　that；　if　there　is　a　mote　or　so　to　be　removed　from

our　premises；　the　courts　and　councils　of　the　last　few　years　have

found　beams　enough　in　some　other　quarters　to　build　a　church　that

would　hold　all　the　good　people　in　Boston　and　have　sticks　enough　left

to　make　a　bonfire　for　all　the　heretics。



As　to　that　terrible　depolarizing　process　of　mine；　of　which　we　were

talking　the　other　day；　I　will　give　you　a　specimen　of　one　way　of

managing　it；　if　you　like。　　I　don't　believe　it　will　hurt　you　or

anybody。　　Besides；　I　had　a　great　deal　rather　finish　our　talk　with

pleasant　images　and　gentle　words　than　with　sharp　sayings；　which　will

only　afford　a　text；　if　anybody　repeats　them；　for　endless　relays　of

attacks　from　Messrs。　　Ananias；　Shimei；　and　Rabshakeh。



＇I　must　leave　such　gentry；　if　any　of　them　show　themselves；　in　the

hands　of　my　clerical　friends；　many　of　whom　are　ready　to　stand　up　for

the　rights　of　the　laity；and　to　those　blessed　souls；　the　good　women；

to　whom　this　version　of　the　story　of　a　mother's　hidden　hopes　and

tender　anxieties　is　dedicated　by　their　peaceful　and　loving　servant。＇







　　　　　　　　　　A　MOTHER'S　SECRET。



How　sweet　the　sacred　legendif　unblamed

In　my　slight　verse　such　holy　things　are　named

Of　Mary's　secret　hours　of　hidden　joy；

Silent；　but　pondering　on　her　wondrous　boy！

Ave；　Maria！　　Pardon；　if　I　wrong

Those　heavenly　words　that　shame　my　earthly　song！



The　choral　host　had　closed　the　angel's　strain

Sung　to　the　midnight　watch　on　Bethlehem's　plain；

And　now　the　shepherds；　hastening　on　their　way；

Sought　the　still　hamlet　where　the　Infant　lay。

They　passed　the　fields　that　gleaning　Ruth　toiled　O'er；

They　saw　afar　the　ruined　threshing…floor

Where　Moab's　daughter；　homeless　and　forlorn；

Found　Boaz　slumbering　by　his　heaps　of　corn；

And　some　remembered　how　the　holy　scribe；

Skilled　in　the　lore　of　every　jealous　tribe；

Traced　the　warm　blood　of　Jesse's　royal　son

To　that　fair　alien；　bravely　wooed　and　won。

So　fared　they　on　to　seek　the　promised　sign

That　marked　the　anointed　heir　of　David's　line。



At　last；　by　forms　of　earthly　semblance　led；

They　found　the　crowded　inn；　the　oxen's　shed。

No　pomp　was　there；　no　glory　shone　around

On　the　coarse　straw　that　strewed　the　reeking　ground；

One　dim　retreat　a　flickering　torch　betrayed；

In　that　poor　cell　the　Lord　of　Life　was　laid！



The　wondering　shepherds　told　their　breathless　tale

Of　the　bright　choir　that　woke　the　sleeping　vale；

Told　how　the　skies　with　sudden　glory　flamed；

Told　how　the　shining　multitude　proclaimed

〃Joy；　joy　to　earth！　　Behold　the　hallowed　morn！

In　David's　city　Christ　the　Lord　is　born！

'Glory　to　God！'　let　angels　shout　on　high；

'Good…will　to　men！'　the　listening　Earth　reply！〃



They　spoke　with　hurried　words　and　accents　wild；

Calm　in　his　cradle　slept　the　heavenly　child。

No　trembling　word　the　mother's　joy　revealed；

One　sigh　of　rapture；　and　her　lips　were　sealed；

Unmoved　she　saw　the　rustic　train　depart；

But　kept　their　words　to　ponder　in　her　heart。



Twelve　years　had　passed；　the　boy　was　fair　and　tall；

Growing　in　wisdom；　finding　grace　with　all。

The　maids　of　Nazareth；　as　they　trooped　to　fill

Their　balanced　urns　beside　the　mountain…rill；

The　gathered　matrons；　as　they　sat　and　spun；

Spoke　in　soft　words　of　Joseph's　quiet　son。

No　voice　had　reached　the　Galilean　vale

Of　star…led　kings　or　awe…struck　shepherds'　tale；

In　the　meek；　studious　child　they　only　saw

The　future　Rabbi；　learned　in　Israel's　law。



So　grew　the　boy；　and　now　the　feast　was　near；

When　at　the　holy　place　the　tribes　appear。

Scarce　had　the　home…bred　child　of　Nazareth　seen

Beyond　the　hills　that　girt　the　village…green；

Save　when　at　midnight；　o'er　the　star…lit　sands；

Snatched　from　the　steel　of　Herod's　murdering　bands；

A　babe；　close…folded　to　his　mother's　breast；

Through　Edom's　wilds　he　sought　the　sheltering　West。



Then　Joseph　spake　：　〃Thy　boy　hath　largely　grown；

Weave　him　fine　raiment；　fitting　to　be　shown；

Fair　robes　beseem　the　pilgrim；　as　the　priest

Goes　he　not　with　us　to　the　holy　feast？〃



And　Mary　culled　the　flaxen　fibres　white；

Till　eve　she　spun；　she　spun　till　morning　light。

The　thread　was　twined；　its　parting　meshes　through

》From　hand　to　hand　her　restless　shuttle　flew；

Till　the　full　web　was　wound　upon　the　beam；

Love's　curious　toil；a　vest　without　a　seam！



They　reach　the　holy　place；　fulfil　the　days

To　solemn　feasting　given；　and　grateful　praise。

At　last　they　turn；　and　far　Moriah's　height

Melts　in　the　southern　sky　and　fades　from　sight。

All　day　the　dusky　caravan　has　flowed

In　devious　trails　along　the　winding　road；

（For　many　a　step　their　homeward　path　attends；

And　all　the　sons　of　Abraham　are　as　friends。）

Evening　has　come；the　hour　of　rest　and　joy；

Hush！　hush！that　whisper；…〃Where　is　Mary's　boy？〃



O　weary　hour！　　O　aching　days　that　passed

Filled　with　strange　fears；　each　wilder　than　the　last：

The　soldier's　lance；the　fierce　centurion's　sword；

The　crushing　wheels　that　whirl　some　Roman　lord；

The　midnight　crypt　that　suck's　the　captive's　breath；

The　blistering　sun　on　Hinnom's　vale　of　death！



Thrice　on　his　cheek　had　rained　the　morning　light；

Thrice　on　his　lips　the　mildewed　kiss　of　night；

Crouched　by　some　porphyry　column's　shining　plinth；

Or　stretched　beneath　the　odorous　terebinth。



At　last；　in　desperate　mood；　they　sought　once　more

The　Temple's　porches；　searched　in　vain　before；

They　found　him　seated　with　the　ancient　men；

The　grim　old　rufflers　of　the　tongue　and　pen；

Their　bald　heads　glistening　as　they　clustered　near；

Their　gray　beards　slanting　as　they　turned　to　hear；

Lost　in　half…envious　wonder　and　surprise

That　lips　so　fresh　should　utter　words　so　wise。



And　Mary　said；as　one　who；　tried　too　long；

Tells　all　her　grief　and　half　her　sense　of　wrong；

What　is　this　thoughtless　thing　which　thou　hast　done？

Lo；　we　have　sought　thee　sorrowing；　O　my　son！

〃Few　words　he　spake；　and　scarce　of　filial　tone；

Strange　words；　their　sense　a　mystery　yet　unknown；

Then　turned　with　them　and　left　the　holy　hill；

To　all　their　mild　commands　obedient　still。



The　tale　was　told　to　Nazareth's　sober　men；

And　Nazareth's　matrons　told　it　oft　again；

The　maids　retold　it　at　the　fountain's　side；

The　youthful　shepherds　doubted　or　denied；

It　passed　around　among　the　listening　friends；

With　all　that　fancy　adds　and　fiction　fends；

Till　newer　marvels　dimmed　the　young　renown

Of　Joseph's　son；　who　talked　the　Rabbis　down。



But　Mary；　faithful　to　its　lightest　word；

Kept　in　her　heart　the　sayings　she　had　heard；

Till　the　dread　morning　rent　the　Temple's　veil；

And　shuddering　Earth　confirmed　the　wondrous　tale。



Youth　fades；　love　droops；　the　leaves　of　friendship　fall；

A　mother's　secret　hope　outlives　them　all。









VI



You　don't　look　so　dreadful　poor　in　the　face　as　you　did　a　while　back。

Bloated　some；　I　expect。



This　was　the　cheerful　and　encouraging　and　elegant　remark　with　which

the　Poor　Relation　greeted　the　divinity…student　one　morning。



Of　course　every　good　man　considers　it　a　great　sacrifice　on　his　part

to　continue　living　in　this　transitory；　unsatisfactory；　and

particularly　unpleasant　world。　　This　is　so　much　a　matter　of　course；

that　I　was　surprised　to　see　the　divinity…student　change　color。　　He

took　a　look　at　a　small　and　uncertain…minded　glass　which　hung　slanting

forward　over　the　chapped　sideboard。　　The　image　it　returned　to　him　had

the　color　of　a　very　young　pea　somewhat　overboiled。　　The　scenery　of　a

long　tragic　drama　flashed　through　his　mind　as　the　lightning…express…

train　whishes　by　a　station：　the　gradual　dismantling　process　of

disease；　friends　looking　on；　sympathetic；　but　secretly　chuckling　over

their　own　stomachs　of　iron　and　lungs　of　caoutchouc；　nurses　attentive；

but　calculating　their　crop；　and　thinking　how　soon　it　will　be　ripe；　so

that　they　can　go　to　your　neighbor；　who　is　good　for　a　year　or　so

longer；　doctors　assiduous；　but　giving　themselves　a　mental　shake；　as

they　go　out　of　your　door；　which　throws　off　your　particular　grief　as　a

duck　sheds　a　raindrop　from　his　oily　feathers；　undertakers　solemn；　but

happy；　then　the　great　subsoil　cultivator；　who　plants；　but　never　looks

for　fruit　in　his　garden；　then　the　stone…cutter；　who　puts　your　name　on

the　slab　which　has　been　waiting　for　you　ever　since　the　birds　or

beasts　made　their　tracks　on　the　new　red　sandstone；　then　the　grass　and

the　dandelions　and　the　buttercups；Earth　saying　to　the　mortal

body；　with　her　sweet　symbolism；　〃You　have　scarred　my　bosom；　but　you

are　forgiven〃；　then　a　glimpse　of　the　soul　as　a　floating　consciousness

without　very　definite　form　or　place；　but　dimly　conceived　of　as　an

upright　column　of　vapor　or　mist　several　times　larger　than　life…size；

so　far　as　it　could　be　s