essays on life, art and science-第5章

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newspaper　if　one　did　not　read　it　to　one's　parrots？

〃And　have　you　divined；〃　I　asked；　〃to　which　side　they　incline　in
politics？〃

〃They　do　not　like　Mr。　Gladstone；〃　was　the　somewhat　freezing　answer；
〃this　is　the　only　point　on　which　we　disagree；　for　I　adore　him。
Don't　ask　more　about　this；　it　is　a　great　grief　to　me。　　I　tell　them
everything；〃　she　continued；　〃and　hide　no　secret　from　them。〃

〃But　can　any　parrot　be　trusted　to　keep　a　secret？〃

〃Mine　can。〃

〃And　on　Sundays　do　you　give　them　the　same　course　of　reading　as　on　a
week…day；　or　do　you　make　a　difference？〃

〃On　Sundays　I　always　read　them　a　genealogical　chapter　from　the　Old
or　New　Testament；　for　I　can　thus　introduce　their　names　without
profanity。　　I　always　keep　tea　by　me　in　case　they　should　ask　for　it
in　the　night；　and　I　have　an　Etna　to　warm　it　for　them；　they　take　milk
and　sugar。　　The　old　white…headed　clergyman　came　to　see　them　last
night；　it　was　very　painful；　for　Jocko　reminded　him　so　strongly　of
his　late　。　。　。　〃

I　thought　she　was　going　to　say　〃wife；〃　but　it　proved　to　have　been
only　of　a　parrot　that　he　had　once　known　and　loved。

One　evening　she　was　in　difficulties　about　the　quarantine；　which　was
enforced　that　year　on　the　Italian　frontier。　　The　local　doctor　had
gone　down　that　morning　to　see　the　Italian　doctor　and　arrange　some
details。　　〃Then；　perhaps；　my　dear；〃　she　said　to　her　husband；　〃he　is
the　quarantine。〃　　〃No；　my　love；〃　replied　her　husband。　　〃The
quarantine　is　not　a　person；　it　is　a　place　where　they　put　people〃；
but　she　would　not　be　comforted；　and　suspected　the　quarantine　as　an
enemy　that　might　at　any　moment　pounce　out　upon　her　and　her　parrots。
So　a　lady　told　me　once　that　she　had　been　in　like　trouble　about　the
anthem。　　She　read　in　her　prayer…book　that　in　choirs　and　places　where
they　sing　〃here　followeth　the　anthem；〃　yet　the　person　with　this　most
mysteriously　sounding　name　never　did　follow。　　They　had　a　choir；　and
no　one　could　say　the　church　was　not　a　place　where　they　sang；　for
they　did　singboth　chants　and　hymns。　　Why；　then；　this　persistent
slackness　on　the　part　of　the　anthem；　who　at　this　juncture　should
follow　her　papa；　the　rector；　into　the　reading…desk？　　No　doubt　he
would　come　some　day；　and　then　what　would　he　be　like？　　Fair　or　dark？
Tall　or　short？　　Would　he　be　bald　and　wear　spectacles　like　papa；　or
would　he　be　young　and　good…looking？　　Anyhow；　there　was　something
wrong；　for　it　was　announced　that　he　would　follow；　and　he　never　did
follow；　therefore　there　was　no　knowing　what　he　might　not　do　next。

I　heard　of　the　parrots　a　year　or　two　later　as　giving　lessons　in
Italian　to　an　English　maid。　　I　do　not　know　what　their　terms　were。
Alas！　since　then　both　they　and　their　mistress　have　joined　the
majority。　　When　the　poor　lady　felt　her　end　was　near　she　desired　（and
the　responsibility　for　this　must　rest　with　her；　not　me）　that　the
birds　might　be　destroyed；　as　fearing　that　they　might　come　to　be
neglected；　and　knowing　that　they　could　never　be　loved　again　as　she
had　loved　them。　　On　being　told　that　all　was　over；　she　said；　〃Thank
you；〃　and　immediately　expired。

Reflecting　in　such　random　fashion；　and　strolling　with　no　greater
method；　I　worked　my　way　back　through　Cheapside　and　found　myself　once
more　in　front　of　Sweeting's　window。　　Again　the　turtles　attracted　me。
They　were　alive；　and　so　far　at　any　rate　they　agreed　with　me。　　Nay；
they　had　eyes；　mouths；　legs；　if　not　arms；　and　feet；　so　there　was
much　in　which　we　were　both　of　a　mind；　but　surely　they　must　be
mistaken　in　arming　themselves　so　very　heavily。　　Any　creature　on
getting　what　the　turtle　aimed　at　would　overreach　itself　and　be
landed　not　in　safety　but　annihilation。　　It　should　have　no　communion
with　the　outside　world　at　all；　for　death　could　creep　in　wherever　the
creature　could　creep　out；　and　it　must　creep　out　somewhere　if　it　was
to　hook　on　to　outside　things。　　What　death　can　be　more　absolute　than
such　absolute　isolation？　　Perfect　death；　indeed；　if　it　were
attainable　（which　it　is　not）；　is　as　near　perfect　security　as　we　can
reach；　but　it　is　not　the　kind　of　security　aimed　at　by　any　animal
that　is　at　the　pains　of　defending　itself。　　For　such　want　to　have
things　both　ways；　desiring　the　livingness　of　life　without　its
perils；　and　the　safety　of　death　without　its　deadness；　and　some　of　us
do　actually　get　this　for　a　considerable　time；　but　we　do　not　get　it
by　plating　ourselves　with　armour　as　the　turtle　does。　　We　tried　this
in　the　Middle　Ages；　and　no　longer　mock　ourselves　with　the　weight　of
armour　that　our　forefathers　carried　in　battle。　　Indeed　the　more
deadly　the　weapons　of　attack　become　the　more　we　go　into　the　fight
slug…wise。

Slugs　have　ridden　their　contempt　for　defensive　armour　as　much　to
death　as　the　turtles　their　pursuit　of　it。　　They　have　hardly　more
than　skin　enough　to　hold　themselves　together；　they　court　death　every
time　they　cross　the　road。　　Yet　death　comes　not　to　them　more　than　to
the　turtle；　whose　defences　are　so　great　that　there　is　little　left
inside　to　be　defended。　　Moreover；　the　slugs　fare　best　in　the　long
run；　for　turtles　are　dying　out；　while　slugs　are　not；　and　there　must
be　millions　of　slugs　all　the　world　over　for　every　single　turtle。　　Of
the　two　vanities；　therefore；　that　of　the　slug　seems　most
substantial。

In　either　case　the　creature　thinks　itself　safe；　but　is　sure　to　be
found　out　sooner　or　later；　nor　is　it　easy　to　explain　this　mockery
save　by　reflecting　that　everything　must　have　its　meat　in　due　season；
and　that　meat　can　only　be　found　for　such　a　multitude　of　mouths　by
giving　everything　as　meat　in　due　season　to　something　else。　　This　is
like　the　Kilkenny　cats；　or　robbing　Peter　to　pay　Paul；　but　it　is　the
way　of　the　world；　and　as　every　animal　must　contribute　in　kind　to　the
picnic　of　the　universe；　one　does　not　see　what　better　arrangement
could　be　made　than　the　providing　each　race　with　a　hereditary
fallacy；　which　shall　in　the　end　get　it　into　a　scrape；　but　which
shall　generally　stand　the　wear　and　tear　of　life　for　some　time。　　〃Do
ut　des〃　is　the　writing　on　all　flesh　to　him　that　eats　it；　and　no
creature　is　dearer　to　itself　than　it　is　to　some　other　that　would
devour　it。

Nor　is　there　any　statement　or　proposition　more　invulnerable　than
living　forms　are。　　Propositions　prey　upon　and　are　grounded　upon　one
another　just　like　living　forms。　　They　support　one　another　as　plants
and　animals　do；　they　are　based　ultimately　on　credit；　or　faith；
rather　than　the　cash　of　irrefragable　conviction。　　The　whole　universe
is　carried　on　on　the　credit　system；　and　if　the　mutual　confidence　on
which　it　is　based　were　to　collapse；　it　must　itself　collapse
immediately。　　Just　or　unjust；　it　lives　by　faith；　it　is　based　on
vague　and　impalpable　opinion　that　by　some　inscrutable　process　passes
into　will　and　action；　and　is　made　manifest　in　matter　and　in　flesh：
it　is　meteoricsuspended　in　midair；　it　is　the　baseless　fabric　of　a
vision　so　vast；　so　vivid；　and　so　gorgeous　that　no　base　can　seem　more
broad　than　such　stupendous　baselessness；　and　yet　any　man　can　bring
it　about　his　ears　by　being　over…curious；　when　faith　fails　a　system
based　on　faith　fails　also。

Whether　the　universe　is　really　a　paying　concern；　or　whether　it　is　an
inflated　bubble　that　must　burst　sooner　or　later；　this　is　another
matter。　　If　people　were　to　demand　cash　payment　in　irrefragable
certainty　for　everything　that　they　have　taken　hitherto　as　paper
money　on　the　credit　of　the　bank　of　public　opinion；　is　there　money
enough　behind　it　all　to　stand　so　great　a　drain　even　on　so　great　a
reserve？　　Probably　there　is　not；　but　happily　there　can　be　no　such
panic；　for　even　though　the　cultured　classes　may　do　so；　the
uncultured　are　too　dull　to　have　brains　enough　to　commit　such
stupendous　folly。　　It　takes　a　long　course　of　academic　training　to
educate　a　man　up　to　the　standard　which　he　must　reach　before　he　can
entertain　such　questions　seriously；　and　by　a　merciful　dispensation
of　Providence；　university　training　is　almost　as　costly　as　it　is
unprofitable。　　The　majority　will　thus　be　always　unable　to　afford　it；
and　will　base　their　opinions　on　mother　wit　and　current　opinion
rather　than　on　demonstration。

So　I　turned　my　steps　homewards；　I　saw　a　good　many　more　things　on　my
way　home；　but　I　was　told　that　I　was　not　to　see　more　this　time　than　I
could　get　into　twelve　pages　of　the　Universal　Review；　I　must
therefore　reserve　any　remark　which　I　think　might　perhaps　entertain
the　reader　for　another　occasion。



THE　AUNT；　THE　NIECES；　AND　THE　DOG　｛3｝



When　a　thing　is　old；　broken；　and　useless　we　throw　it　on　the　dust…
heap；　but　when　it　is　sufficiently　old；　sufficiently　broken；　and
sufficiently　useless　we　give　money　for　it；　put　it　into　a　museum；　and
read　papers　over　it　which　people　come　long　distances　to　hear。　　By…
and…by；　when　the　whirligig　of　time　has　brought　on　another　revenge；
the　museum　itself　becomes　a　dust…heap；　and　remains　so　till　after
long　ages　it　is　re…discovered；　and　valued　as　belonging　to　a　neo…
rubbish　agecontaining；　perhaps；　traces　of　a　still　older　paleo…
rubbish　civilisation。　　So　when　people　are　old；　indigent；　and　in　all
respects　incapable；　we　hold　them　in　greater　and　greater　contempt　as
their　poverty　and　impotence　increase；　till　they　reach　the　pitch　when
they　are　actually　at　the　point　to　die；　whereon　they　become　sublime。
Then　we　place　every　resource　our　hospitals　can　command　at　their
disposal；　and　show　no　stint　in　our　consideration　for　them。

It　is　the　same　with　all　our　interests。　　We　care　most　about　extremes
of　importance　and　of　unimportance；　but　extremes　of　importance　are
tainted　with　fear；　and　a　very　imperfect　fear　casteth　out　love。
Extremes　of　unimportance　cannot　hurt　us；　therefore　we　are　well
disposed　towards　them；　the　means　may　come　to　do　so；　therefore　we　do
not　love　them。　　Hence　we　pick　a　fly　out　of　a　milk…jug　and　watch　with
pleasure　over　its　recovery；　for　we　are　confident　that　under　no
conceivable　circumstances　will　it　want　to　borrow　money　from　us；　but
we　feel　less　sure　about　a　mouse；　so　we　show　it　no　quarter。　　The
compilers　of　our　almanacs　well　know　this　tendency　of　our　natures；　so
they　tell　us；　not　when　Noah　went　into　the　ark；　nor　when　the　temple
of　Jerusalem　was　dedicated；　but　that　Lindley　Murray；　grammarian；
died　January　16；　1826。　　This　is　not　because　they　could　not　find　so
many　as　three　hundred　and　sixty…five　events　of　considerable　interest
since　the　creation　of　the　world；　but　because　they　well　know　we　would
rather　hear　of　something　less　interesting。　　We　care　most　about　what
concerns　us　either　very　closely；　or　so　little　that　practically　we
have　nothing　whatever　to　do　with　it。

I　once　asked　a　young　Italian；　who　professed　to　have　a　considerable
knowledge　of　English　literature；　which　of　all　our　poems　pleased　him
best。　　He　replied　without　a　moment's　hesitation：…


〃Hey　diddle　diddle；　the　cat　and　the　fiddle；
　　　The　cow　jumped　over　the　moon；
The　little　dog　laughed　to　see　such　sport；
　　　And　the　dish　ran　away　with　the　spoon。〃


He　said　this　was　better　than　anything　in　Italian。　　They　had　Dante
and　Tasso；　and　ever　so　many　more　great　poets；　but　they　had　nothing
comparable　to　〃Hey　diddle　diddle；〃　nor　had　he　been　able　to　conceive
how　any　one　could　have　written　it。　　Did　I　know　the　author's　name；
and　had　we　given　him　a　statue？　　On　this　I　told　him　of　the　young　lady
of　Harrow　who　would　g