over the teacups-第32章

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I　was　driving　with　a　friend；　the　other　day；　through　a　somewhat　dreary

stretch　of　country；　where　there　seemed　to　be　very　little　to　attract

notice　or　deserve　remark。　　Still；　the　old　spirit　infused　by　〃Eyes　and

No　Eyes〃　was　upon　me；　and　I　looked　for　something　to　fasten　my　thought

upon；　and　treat　as　an　artist　treats　a　study　for　a　picture。　　The　first

object　to　which　my　eyes　were　drawn　was　an　old…fashioned　well…sweep。

It　did　not　take　much　imaginative　sensibility　to　be　stirred　by　the

sight　of　this　most　useful；　most　ancient；　most　picturesque；　of

domestic　conveniences。　　I　know　something　of　the　shadoof　of　Egypt；

the　same　arrangement　by　which　the　sacred　waters　of　the　Nile　have　been

lifted；　from　the　days　of　the　Pharaohs　to　those　of　the　Khedives。　　That

long　forefinger　pointing　to　heaven　was　a　symbol　which　spoke　to　the

Puritan　exile　as　it　spoke　of　old　to　the　enslaved　Israelite。　　Was

there　ever　any　such　water　as　that　which　we　used　to　draw　from　the

deep；　cold　well；　in　〃the　old　oaken　bucket〃？　　What　memories　gather

about　the　well　in　all　ages！　　What　love…matches　have　been　made　at　its

margin；　from　the　times　of　Jacob　and；　Rachel　downward！　　What　fairy

legends　hover　over　it；　what　fearful　mysteries　has　it　hidden！　　The

beautiful　well…sweep！　　It　is　too　rarely　that　we　see　it；　and　as　it

dies　out　and　gives　place　to　the　odiously　convenient　pump；　with　the

last　patent　on　its　cast…iron　uninterestingness；　does　it　not　seem　as

if　the　farmyard　aspect　had　lost　half　its　attraction？　　So　long　as　the

dairy　farm　exists；　doubtless　there　must　be　every　facility　for　getting

water　in　abundance；　but　the　loss　of　the　well…sweep　cannot　be　made　up

to　us　even　if　our　milk　were　diluted　to　twice　its　present　attenuation。



The　well…sweep　had　served　its　turn；　and　my　companion　and　I　relapsed

into　silence。　　After　a　while　we　passed　another　farmyard；　with　nothing

which　seemed　deserving　of　remark　except　the　wreck　of　an　old　wagon。



〃Look；〃　I　said；　〃if　you　want　to　see　one　of　the　greatest　of　all　the

triumphs　of　human　ingenuity；　one　of　the　most　beautiful；　as　it　is　one

of　the　most　useful；　of　all　the　mechanisms　which　the　intelligence　of

successive　ages　has　called　into　being。〃



〃I　see　nothing；〃　my　companion　answered；　〃but　an　old　broken…down

wagon。　　Why　they　leave　such　a　piece　of　lumbering　trash　about　their

place；　where　people　can　see　it　as　they　pass；　is　more　than　I　can

account　for。〃



〃And　yet；〃　said　I；　〃there　is　one　of　the　most　extraordinary　products

of　human　genius　and　skill；an　object　which　combines　the　useful　and

the　beautiful　to　an　extent　which　hardly　any　simple　form　of　mechanism

can　pretend　to　rival。　　Do　you　notice　how；　while　everything　else　has

gone　to　smash；　that　wheel　remains　sound　and　fit　for　service？　　Look　at

it　merely　for　its　beauty。



See　the　perfect　circles；　the　outer　and　the　inner。　　A　circle　is　in

itself　a　consummate　wonder　of　geometrical　symmetry。　　It　is　the　line

in　which　the　omnipotent　energy　delights　to　move。　　There　is　no　fault

in　it　to　be　amended。　　The　first　drawn　circle　and　the　last　both　embody

the　same　complete　fulfillment　of　a　perfect　design。　　Then　look　at　the

rays　which　pass　from　the　inner　to　the　outer　circle。　　How　beautifully

they　bring　the　greater　and　lesser　circles　into　connection　with　each

other！　　The　flowers　know　that　secret；the　marguerite　in　the　meadow

displays　it　as　clearly　as　the　great　sun　in　heaven。　　How　beautiful　is

this　flower　of　wood　and　iron；　which　we　were　ready　to　pass　by　without

wasting　a　look　upon　it！　　But　its　beauty　is　only　the　beginning　of　its

wonderful　claim　upon　us　for　our　admiration。　　Look　at　that　field　of

flowering　grass；　the　triticum　vulgare；see　how　its　waves　follow　the

breeze　in　satiny　alternations　of　light　and　shadow。　　You　admire　it　for

its　lovely　aspect；　but　when　you　remember　that　this　flowering　grass　is

wheat；　the　finest　food　of　the　highest　human　races；　it　gains　a

dignity；　a　glory；　that　its　beauty　alone　could　not　give　it。



〃Now　look　at　that　exquisite　structure　lying　neglected　and　disgraced；

but　essentially　unchanged　in　its　perfection；　before　you。　　That　slight

and　delicate…looking　fabric　has　stood　such　a　trial　as　hardly　any

slender　contrivance；　excepting　always　the　valves　of　the　heart；　was

ever　subjected　to。　　It　has　rattled　for　years　over　the　cobble…stones

of　a　rough　city　pavement。　　It　has　climbed　over　all　the　accidental

obstructions　it　met　in　the　highway；　and　dropped　into　all　the　holes

and　deep　ruts　that　made　the　heavy　farmer　sitting　over　it　use　his

Sunday　vocabulary　in　a　week…day　form　of　speech。　　At　one　time　or

another；　almost　every　part　of　that　old　wagon　has　given　way。　　It　has

had　two　new　pairs　of　shafts。　　Twice　the　axle　has　broken　off　close　to

the　hub；　or　nave。　　The　seat　broke　when　Zekle　and　Huldy　were　having

what　they　called　'a　ride'　together。　　The　front　was　kicked　in　by　a

vicious　mare。　　The　springs　gave　way　and　the　floor　bumped　on　the　axle。

Every　portion　of　the　wagon　became　a　prey　of　its　special　accident；

except　that　most　fragile　looking　of　all　its　parts；　the　wheel。　　Who

can　help　admiring　the　exact　distribution　of　the　power　of　resistance

at　the　least　possible　expenditure　of　material　which　is　manifested　in

this　wondrous　triumph　of　human　genius　and　skill？　　The　spokes　are

planted　in　the　solid　hub　as　strongly　as　the　jaw…teeth　of　a　lion　in

their　deep…sunken　sockets。　　Each　spoke　has　its　own　territory　in　the

circumference；　for　which　it　is　responsible。　　According　to　the　load

the　vehicle　is　expected　to　carry；　they　are　few　or　many；　stout　or

slender；　but　they　share　their　joint　labor　with　absolute　justice；not

one　does　more；　not　one　does　less；　than　its　just　proportion。　　The

outer　end　of　the　spokes　is　received　into　the　deep　mortise　of　the

wooden　fellies；　and　the　structure　appears　to　be　complete。　　But　how

long　would　it　take　to　turn　that　circle　into　a　polygon；　unless　some

mighty　counteracting　force　should　prevent　it？　　See　the　iron　tire

brought　hot　from　the　furnace　and　laid　around　the　smoking

circumference。　　Once　in　place；　the　workman　cools　the　hot　iron；　and　as

it　shrinks　with　a　force　that　seems　like　a　hand…grasp　of　the

Omnipotent；　it　clasps　the　fitted　fragments　of　the　structure；　and

compresses　them　into　a　single　inseparable　whole。



〃Was　it　not　worth　our　while　to　stop　a　moment　before　passing　that　old

broken　wagon；　and　see　whether　we　could　not　find　as　much　in　it　as

Swift　found　in　his　'Meditations　on　a　Broomstick'？　　I　have　been

laughed　at　for　making　so　much　of　such　a　common　thing　as　a　wheel。

Idiots！　　Solomon's　court　fool　would　have　scoffed　at　the　thought　of

the　young　Galilean　who　dared　compare　the　lilies　of　the　field　to　his

august　master。　　Nil　admirari　is　very　well　for　a　North　American　Indian

and　his　degenerate　successor；　who　has　grown　too　grand　to　admire

anything　but　himself；　and　takes　a　cynical　pride　in　his　stolid

indifference　to　everything　worth　reverencing　or　honoring。〃



After　calling　my　companion's　attention　to　the　wheel；　and　discoursing

upon　it　until　I　thought　he　was　getting　sleepy；　we　jogged　along　until

we　came　to　a　running　stream。　　It　was　crossed　by　a　stone　bridge　of　a

single　arch。　　There　are　very　few　stone　arches　over　the　streams　in　New

England　country　towns；　and　I　always　delighted　in　this　one。　　It　was

built　in　the　last　century；　amidst　the　doubting　predictions　of　staring

rustics；　and　stands　to…day　as　strong　as　ever；　and　seemingly　good　for

centuries　to　come。



〃See　there！〃　said　I；〃there　is　another　of　my　'Eyes　and　No　Eyes'

subjects　to　meditate　upon。　　Next　to　the　wheel；　the　arch　is　the

noblest　of　those　elementary　mechanical　composites；　corresponding　to

the　proximate　principles　of　chemistry。　　The　beauty　of　the　arch

consists　first　in　its　curve；　commonly　a　part　of　the　circle；　of　the

perfection　of　which　I　have　spoken。　　But　the　mind　derives　another

distinct　pleasure　from　the　admirable　manner　in　which　the　several

parts；　each　different　from　all　the　others；　contribute　to　a　single

harmonious　effect。　　It　is　a　typical　example　of　the　piu　nel　uno。　　An

arch　cut　out　or　a　single　stone　would　not　be　so　beautiful　as　one　of

which　each　individual　stone　was　shaped　for　its　exact　position。　　Its

completion　by　the　locking　of　the　keystone　is　a　delight　to　witness　and

to　contemplate。　　And　how　the　arch　endures；　when　its　lateral　thrust　is

met　by　solid　masses　of　resistance！　　In　one　of　the　great　temples　of

Baalbec　a　keystone　has　slipped；　but　how　rare　is　that　occurrence！　　One

will　hardly　find　another　such　example　among　all　the　ruins　of

antiquity。　　Yes；　I　never　get　tired　of　arches。　　They　are　noble　when

shaped　of　solid　marble　blocks；　each　carefully　beveled　for　its

position。　　They　are　beautiful　when　constructed　with　the　large　thin

tiles　the　Romans　were　so　fond　of　using。　　I　noticed　some　arches　built

in　this　way　in　the　wall　of　one　of　the　grand　houses　just　going　up　on

the　bank　of　the　river。　　They　were　over　the　capstones　of　the　windows；…

…to　take　off　the　pressure　from　them；　no　doubt；　for　now　and　then　a

capstone　will　crack　under　the　weight　of　the　superincumbent　mass。　　How

close　they　fit；　and　how　striking　the　effect　of　their　long

radiations！〃



The　company　listened　very　well　up　to　this　point。　　When　he　began　the

strain　of　thoughts　which　follows；　a　curious　look　went　round　The

Teacups。



What　a　strange　underground　life　is　that　which　is　led　by　the　organisms

we　call　trees！　　These　great　fluttering　masses　of　leaves；　stems；

boughs；　trunks；　are　not　the　real　trees。　　They　live　underground；　and

what　we　see　are　nothing　more　nor　less　than　their　tails。



The　Mistress　dropped　her　teaspoon。　　Number　Five　looked　at　the　Doctor；

whose　face　was　very　still　and　sober。　　The　two　Annexes　giggled；　or

came　very　near　it。



Yes；　a　tree　is　an　underground　creature；　with　its　tail　in　the　air。

All　its　intelligence　is　in　its　roots。　　All　the　senses　it　has　are　in

its　roots。　　Think　what　sagacity　it　shows　in　its　search　after　food　and

drink！　　Somehow　or　other；　the　rootlets；　which　are　its　tentacles；　find

out　that　there　is　a　brook　at　a　moderate　distance　from　the　trunk　of

the　tree；　and　they　make　for　it　with　all　their　might。　　They　find　every

crack　in　the　rocks　where　there　are　a　few　grains　of　the　nourishing

substance　they　care　for；　and　insinuate　themselves　into　its　deepest

recesses。　　When　spring　and　summer　come；　they　let　their　tails　grow；

and　delight　in　whisking　them　about　in　the　wind；　or　letting　them　be

whisked　about　by　it；　for　these　tails　are　poor　passive　things；　with

very　little　will　of　their　own；　and　bend　in　whatever　direction　the

wind　chooses　to　make　them。　　The　leaves　make　a　deal　of　noise

whispering。　　I　have　sometimes　thought　I　could　understand　them；　as

they　talk　with　each　other；　and　that　they　seemed　to　think　they　made

the　wind　as　they　wagged　forward　and　back。　　Remember　what　I　say。　　The

next　time　you　see　a　tree　waving　in　the　wind；　recollect　that　it　is　the

tail　of　a　great　underground；　many…armed；　polypus…like　creature；　which

is　as　proud　of　its　caudal　appendage；　especially　in　summer…time；　as　a

peacock　of　his　gorgeous　expanse　of　plumage。