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the poet at the breakfast table-第40章

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oppressive; we gasp as if in a vacuum; missing the atmosphere of life
we have so long been in the habit of breathing。  Not the less are
there moments when the aching need of repose comes over us and the
requiescat in pace; heathen benediction as it is; sounds more sweetly
in our ears than all the promises that Fame can hold out to us。

I wonder whether it ever occurred to you to reflect upon another
horror there must be in leaving a name behind you。  Think what a
horrid piece of work the biographers make of a man's private history!
Just imagine the subject of one of those extraordinary fictions
called biographies coming back and reading the life of himself;
written very probably by somebody or other who thought he could turn
a penny by doing it; and having the pleasure of seeing

    〃His little bark attendant sail;
     Pursue the triumph and partake the gale。〃

The ghost of the person condemned to walk the earth in a biography
glides into a public library; and goes to the shelf where his mummied
life lies in its paper cerements。  I can see the pale shadow glancing
through the pages and hear the comments that shape themselves in the
bodiless intelligence as if they were made vocal by living lips。

〃Born in July; 1776!  〃 And my honored father killed at the battle of
Bunker Hill!  Atrocious libeller!  to slander one's family at the
start after such a fashion!

〃The death of his parents left him in charge of his Aunt Nancy; whose
tender care took the place of those parental attentions which should
have guided and protected his infant years; and consoled him for the
severity of another relative。〃

Aunt Nancy!  It was Aunt Betsey; you fool!  Aunt Nancy used toshe
has been dead these eighty years; so there is no use in mincing
mattersshe used to keep a bottle and a stick; and when she had been
tasting a drop out of the bottle the stick used to come off the shelf
and I had to taste that。  And here she is made a saint of; and poor
Aunt Betsey; that did everything for me; is slandered by implication
as a horrid tyrant

〃The subject of this commemorative history was remarkable for a
precocious development of intelligence。  An old nurse who saw him at
the very earliest period of his existence is said to have spoken of
him as one of the most promising infants she had seen in her long
experience。  At school he was equally remarkable; and at a tender age
he received a paper adorned with a cut; inscribed REWARD OF MERIT。〃

I don't doubt the nurse said that;there were several promising
children born about that time。  As for cuts; I got more from the
schoolmaster's rattan than in any other shape。  Didn't one of my
teachers split a Gunter's scale into three pieces over the palm of my
hand?  And didn't I grin when I saw the pieces fly?  No humbug; now;
about my boyhood!

〃His personal appearance was not singularly prepossessing。
Inconspicuous in stature and unattractive in features〃

You misbegotten son of an ourang and grandson of an ascidian
(ghosts keep up with science; you observe); what business have you to
be holding up my person to the contempt of my posterity?  Haven't I
been sleeping for this many a year in quiet; and don't the dandelions
and buttercups look as yellow over me as over the best…looking
neighbor I have in the dormitory?  Why do you want to people the
minds of everybody that reads your good…for…nothing libel which you
call a 〃biography〃 with your impudent caricatures of a man who was a
better…looking fellow than yourself; I 'll bet you ten to one; a man
whom his Latin tutor called fommosus puer when he was only a
freshman?  If that's what it means to make a reputation;to leave
your character and your person; and the good name of your sainted
relatives; and all you were; and all you had and thought and felt; so
far as can be gathered by digging you out of your most private
records; to be manipulated and bandied about and cheapened in the
literary market as a chicken or a turkey or a goose is handled and
bargained over at a provision stall; is n't it better to be content
with the honest blue slate…stone and its inscription informing
posterity that you were a worthy citizen and a respected father of a
family?

I should like to see any man's biography with corrections and
emendations by his ghost。  We don't know each other's secrets quite
so well as we flatter ourselves we do。  We don't always know our own
secrets as well as we might。  You have seen a tree with different
grafts upon it; an apple or a pear tree we will say。  In the late
summer months the fruit on one bough will ripen; I remember just such
a tree; and the early ripening fruit was the Jargonelle。  By and by
the fruit of another bough will begin to come into condition; the
lovely Saint Michael; as I remember; grew on the same stock as the
Jargonelle in the tree I am thinking of; and then; when these have
all fallen or been gathered; another; we will say the Winter Nelis;
has its turn; and so out of the same juices have come in succession
fruits of the most varied aspects and flavors。  It is the same thing
with ourselves; but it takes us a long while to find it out。  The
various inherited instincts ripen in succession。  You may be nine
tenths paternal at one period of your life; and nine tenths maternal
at another。  All at once the traits of some immediate ancestor may
come to maturity unexpectedly on one of the branches of your
character; just as your features at different periods of your life
betray different resemblances to your nearer or more remote
relatives。

But I want you to let me go back to the Bunker Hill Monument and the
dynasty of twenty or thirty centuries whose successive
representatives are to sit in the gate; like the Jewish monarchs;
while the people shall come by hundreds and by thousands to visit the
memorial shaft until the story of Bunker's Hill is as old as that of
Marathon。

Would not one like to attend twenty consecutive soirees; at each one
of which the lion of the party should be the Man of the Monument; at
the beginning of each century; all the way; we will say; from Anno
Domini 2000 to Ann。 Dom。 4000;or; if you think the style of dating
will be changed; say to Ann。  Darwinii (we can keep A。 D。 you see)
1872?  Will the Man be of the Indian type; as President Samuel
Stanhope Smith and others have supposed the transplanted European
will become by and by?  Will he have shortened down to four feet and
a little more; like the Esquimaux; or will he have been bred up to
seven feet by the use of new chemical diets; ozonized and otherwise
improved atmospheres; and animal fertilizers?  Let us summon him in
imagination and ask him a few questions。

Is n't it like splitting a toad out of a rock to think of this man of
nineteen or twenty centuries hence coming out from his stony
dwelling…place and speaking with us?  What are the questions we
should ask him?  He has but a few minutes to stay。  Make out your own
list; I will set down a few that come up to me as I write。

What is the prevalent religious creed of civilization ?

Has the planet met with any accident of importance?

How general is the republican form of government 
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