over the teacups-第23章

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does　not　belong　to　me；　but　I　will　treat　it　as　I　used　to　treat　a　stray

boat　which　came　through　my　meadow；　floating　down　the　Housatonic；get

hold　of　it　and　draw　it　ashore；　and　hold　on　to　it　until　the　owner

turns　up。　　If　this　precept　is　used　discreetly；　it　is　very

serviceable；　but　it　is　as　well　to　recognize　the　fact　that　you　cannot

know　something　about　everything　in　days　like　these　of　intellectual

activity；　of　literary　and　scientific　production。　　We　all　feel　this。

It　makes　us　nervous　to　see　the　shelves　of　new　books；　many　of　which　we

feel　as　if　we　ought　to　read；　and　some　among　them　to　study。　　We　must

adopt　some　principle　of　selection　among　the　books　outside　of　any

particular　branch　which　we　may　have　selected　for　study。　　I　have　often

been　asked　what　books　I　would　recommend　for　a　course　of　reading。　　I

have　always　answered　that　I　had　a　great　deal　rather　take　advice　than

give　it。　　Fortunately；　a　number　of　scholars　have　furnished　lists　of

books　to　which　the　inquirer　may　be　directed。　　But　the　worst　of　it　is

that　each　student　is　in　need　of　a　little　library　specially　adapted　to

his　wants。　　Here　is　a　young　man　writing　to　me　from　a　Western　college；

and　wants　me　to　send　him　a　list　of　the　books　which　I　think　would　be

most　useful　to　him。　　He　does　not　send　me　his　intellectual

measurements；　and　he　might　as　well　have　sent　to　a　Boston　tailor　for　a

coat；　without　any　hint　of　his　dimensions　in　length；　breadth；　and

thickness。



But　instead　of　laying　down　rules　for　reading；　and　furnishing　lists　of

the　books　which　should　be　read　in　order；　I　will　undertake　the　much

humbler　task　of　giving　a　little　quasi…medical　advice　to　persons；

young　or　old；　suffering　from　book…hunger；　book…surfeit；　book…

nervousness；　book…indigestion；　book…nausea；　and　all　other　maladies

which；　directly　or　indirectly；　may　be　traced　to　books；　and　to　which　I

could　give　Greek　or　Latin　names　if　I　thought　it　worth　while。



I　have　a　picture　hanging　in　my　library；　a　lithograph；　of　which　many

of　my　readers　may　have　seen　copies。　　It　represents　a　gray…haired　old

book…lover　at　the　top　of　a　long　flight　of　steps。　　He　finds　himself　in

clover；　so　to　speak；　among　rare　old　editions；　books　he　has　longed　to

look　upon　and　never　seen　before；　rarities；　precious　old　volumes；

incunabula；　cradle…books；　printed　while　the　art　was　in　its　infancy；

its　glorious　infancy；　for　it　was　born　a　giant。　　The　old　bookworm　is

so　intoxicated　with　the　sight　and　handling　of　the　priceless　treasures

that　he　cannot　bear　to　put　one　of　the　volumes　back　after　he　has　taken

it　from　the　shelf。　　So　there　he　stands；one　book　open　in　his　hands；

a　volume　under　each　arm；　and　one　or　more　between　his　legs；loaded

with　as　many　as　he　can　possibly　hold　at　the　same　time。



Now；　that　is　just　the　way　in　which　the　extreme　form　of　book…hunger

shows　itself　in　the　reader　whose　appetite　has　become　over…developed。

He　wants　to　read　so　many　books　that　he　over…crams　himself　with　the

crude　materials　of　knowledge；　which　become　knowledge　only　when　the

mental　digestion　has　time　to　assimilate　them。　　I　never　can　go　into

that　famous　〃Corner　Bookstore〃　and　look　over　the　new　books　in　the　row

before　me；　as　I　enter　the　door；　without　seeing　half　a　dozen　which　I

want　to　read；　or　at　least　to　know　something　about。　　I　cannot　empty　my

purse　of　its　contents；　and　crowd　my　bookshelves　with　all　those

volumes。　　The　titles　of　many　of　them　interest　me。　　I　look　into　one　or

two；　perhaps。　　I　have　sometimes　picked　up　a　line　or　a　sentence；　in

these　momentary　glances　between　the　uncut　leaves　of　a　new　book；　which

I　have　never　forgotten。　　As　a　trivial　but　bona　fide　example；　one　day

I　opened　a　book　on　duelling。　　I　remember　only　these　words：

〃Conservons…la；　cette　noble　institution。〃　　I　had　never　before　seen

duelling　called　a　noble　institution；　and　I　wish　I　had　taken　the　name

of　the　book。　　Book…tasting　is　not　necessarily　profitless；　but　it　is

very　stimulating；　and　makes　one　hungry　for　more　than　he　needs　for　the

nourishment　of　his　thinking…marrow。　　To　feed　this　insatiable　hunger；

the　abstracts；　the　reviews；　do　their　best。　　But　these；　again；　have

grown　so　numerous　and　so　crowded　with　matter　that　it　is　hard　to　find

time　to　master　their　contents。　　We　are　accustomed；　therefore；　to　look

for　analyses　of　these　periodicals；　and　at　last　we　have　placed　before

us　a　formidable…looking　monthly；　〃The　Review　of　Reviews。〃　　After　the

analyses　comes　the　newspaper　notice；　and　there　is　still　room　for　the

epigram；　which　sometimes　makes　short　work　with　all　that　has　gone

before　on　the　same　subject。



It　is　just　as　well　to　recognize　the　fact　that　if　one　should　read　day

and　night；　confining　himself　to　his　own　language；　he　could　not

pretend　to　keep　up　with　the　press。　　He　might　as　well　try　to　race　with

a　locomotive。　　The　first　discipline；　therefore；　is　that　of　despair。

If　you　could　stick　to　your　reading　day　and　night　for　fifty　years；

what　a　learned　idiot　you　would　become　long　before　the　half…century

was　over！　　Well；　then；　there　is　no　use　in　gorging　one's　self　with

knowledge；　and　no　need　of　self…reproach　because　one　is　content　to

remain　more　or　less　ignorant　of　many　things　which　interest　his

fellow…creatures。　　We　gain　a　good　deal　of　knowledge　through　the

atmosphere；　we　learn　a　great　deal　by　accidental　hearsay；　provided　we

have　the　mordant　in　our　own　consciousness　which　makes　the　wise

remark；　the　significant　fact；　the　instructive　incident；　take　hold

upon　it。　　After　the　stage　of　despair　comes　the　period　of　consolation。

We　soon　find　that　we　are　not　so　much　worse　off　than　most　of　our

neighbors　as　we　supposed。　　The　fractional　value　of　the　wisest　shows　a

small　numerator　divided　by　an　infinite　denominator　of　knowledge。



I　made　some　explanations　to　The　Teacups；　the　other　evening；　which

they　received　very　intelligently　and　graciously；　as　I　have　no　doubt

the　readers　of　these　reports　of　mine　will　receive　them。　　If　the

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

p