28-does the race of man love a lord-第3部分

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horny…handed　sons　of　toil　and　of　politics；　and　fliers　of　the　eagle

there　isn't　one　who　is　trying　to　keep　out　of　range；　there　isn't　one

who　isn't　plainly　meditating　a　purchase　of　the　paper　in　the　morning；

with　the　intention　of　hunting　himself　out　in　the　picture　and　of　framing

and　keeping　it　if　he　shall　find　so　much　of　his　person　in　it　as　his

starboard　ear。



We　all　love　to　get　some　of　the　drippings　of　Conspicuousness；　and　we

will　put　up　with　a　single；　humble　drip；　if　we　can't　get　any　more。　

We　may　pretend　otherwise；　in　conversation；　but　we　can't　pretend

it　to　ourselves　privatelyand　we　don't。　We　do　confess　in　public

that　we　are　the　noblest　work　of　God；　being　moved　to　it　by　long　habit；

and　teaching；　and　superstition；　but　deep　down　in　the　secret　places

of　our　souls　we　recognize　that；　if　we　ARE　the　noblest　work；　the　less

said　about　it　the　better。



We　of　the　North　poke　fun　at　the　South　for　its　fondness　of　titles

a　fondness　for　titles　pure　and　simple；　regardless　of　whether　they

are　genuine　or　pinchbeck。　　We　forget　that　whatever　a　Southerner

likes　the　rest　of　the　human　race　likes；　and　that　there　is　no　law　of

predilection　lodged　in　one　people　that　is　absent　from　another　people。　

There　is　no　variety　in　the　human　race。　　We　are　all　children；

all　children　of　the　one　Adam；　and　we　love　toys。　　We　can　soon　acquire

that　Southern　disease　if　some　one　will　give　it　a　start。　　It　already

has　a　start；　in　fact。　　I　have　been　personally　acquainted　with　over

eighty…four　thousand　persons　who；　at　one　time　or　another　in　their　lives；

have　served　for　a　year　or　two　on　the　staffs　of　our　multitudinous

governors；　and　through　that　fatality　have　been　generals　temporarily；

and　colonels　temporarily；　and　judge…advocates　temporarily；　but　I

have　known　only　nine　among　them　who　could　be　hired　to　let　the　title

go　when　it　ceased　to　be　legitimate。　　I　know　thousands　and　thousands

of　governors　who　ceased　to　be　governors　away　back　in　the　last　century；

but　I　am　acquainted　with　only　three　who　would　answer　your　letter

if　you　failed　to　call　them　〃Governor〃　in　it。　　I　know　acres　and　acres

of　men　who　have　done　time　in　a　legislature　in　prehistoric　days；

but　among　them　is　not　half　an　acre　whose　resentment　you　would　not

raise　if　you　addressed　them　as　〃Mr。〃　instead　of　〃Hon。〃　The　first　thing

a　legislature　does　is　to　convene　in　an　impressive　legislative　attitude；

and　get　itself　photographed。　　Each　member　frames　his　copy　and　takes

it　to　the　woods　and　hangs　it　up　in　the　most　aggressively　conspicuous

place　in　his　house；　and　if　you　visit　the　house　and　fail　to　inquire

what　that　accumulation　is；　the　conversation　will　be　brought　around

to　it　by　that　aforetime　legislator；　and　he　will　show　you　a　figure

in　it　which　in　the　course　of　years　he　has　almost　obliterated

with　the　smut　of　his　finger…marks；　and　say　with　a　solemn　joy；　〃It's　me！〃



Have　you　ever　seen　a　country　Congressman　enter　the　hotel　breakfast…room

in　Washington　with　his　letters？and　sit　at　his　table　and　let　on

to　read　them？and　wrinkle　his　brows　and　frown　statesman…like？

keeping　a　furtive　watch…out　over　his　glasses　all　the　while　to　see

if　he　is　being　observed　and　admired？those　same　old　letters

which　he　fetches　in　every　morning？　　Have　you　seen　it？　　Have　you

seen　him　show　off？　　It　is　THE　sight　of　the　national　capital。　

Except　one；　a　pathetic　one。　　That　is　the　ex…Congressman：　the　poor

fellow　whose　life　has　been　ruined　by　a　two…year　taste　of　glory

and　of　fictitious　consequence；　who　has　been　superseded；　and　ought

to　take　his　heartbreak　home　and　hide　it；　but　cannot　tear　himself

away　from　the　scene　of　his　lost　little　grandeur；　and　so　he　lingers；

and　still　lingers；　year　after　year；　unconsidered；　sometimes　snubbed；

ashamed　of　his　fallen　estate；　and　valiantly　trying　to　look　otherwise；

dreary　and　depressed；　but　counterfeiting　breeziness　and　gaiety；

hailing　with　chummy　familiarity；　which　is　not　always　welcomed；

the　more…fortunes　who　are　still　in　place　and　were　once　his　mates。　

Have　you　seen　him？　　He　clings　piteously　to　the　one　little　shred　that

is　left　of　his　departed　distinctionthe　〃privilege　of　the　floor〃；

and　works　it　hard　and　gets　what　he　can　out　of　it。　　That　is　the　saddest

figure　I　know　of。



Yes；　we　do　so　love　our　little　distinctions！　　And　then　we　loftily

scoff　at　a　Prince　for　enjoying　his　larger　ones；　forgetting　that　if　we

only　had　his　chanceah！　　〃Senator〃　is　not　a　legitimate　title。　

A　Senator　has　no　more　right　to　be　addressed　by　it　than　have　you

or　I；　but；　in　the　several　state　capitals　and　in　Washington；

there　are　five　thousand　Senators　who　take　very　kindly　to

that　fiction；　and　who　purr　gratefully　when　you　call　them　by　it

which　you　may　do　quite　unrebuked。　　Then　those　same　Senators　smile

at　the　self…constructed　majors　and　generals　and　judges　of　the　South！



Indeed；　we　do　love　our　distinctions；　get　them　how　we　may。　

And　we　work　them　for　all　they　are　worth。　　In　prayer　we　call

ourselves　〃worms　of　the　dust；〃　but　it　is　only　on　a　sort　of　tacit

understanding　that　the　remark　shall　not　be　taken　at　par。　　WE

worms　of　the　dust！　　Oh；　no；　we　are　not　that。　　Except　in　fact；

and　we　do　not　deal　much　in　fact　when　we　are　contemplating　ourselves。



As　a　race；　we　do　certainly　love　a　lordlet　him　be　Croker；　or　a　duke；

or　a　prize…fighter；　or　whatever　other　personage　shall　chance　to　be　the

head　of　our　group。　　Many　years　ago；　I　saw　a　greasy　youth　in　overalls

standing　by　the　HERALD　office；　with　an　expectant　look　in　his　face。　

Soon　a　large　man　passed　out；　and　gave　him　a　pat　on　the　shoulder。　

That　was　what　the　boy　was　waiting　forthe　large　man's　notice。　

The　pat　made　him　proud　and　happy；　and　the　exultation　inside　of　him

shone　out　through　his　eyes；　and　his　mates　were　there　to　see　the　pat

and　envy　it　and　wish　they　could　have　that　glory。　　The　boy　belonged

down　cellar　in　the　press…room；　the　large　man　was　king　of　the

upper　floors；　foreman　of　the　composing…room。　The　light　in　the　boy's

face　was　worship；　the　foreman　was　his　lord；　head　of　his　group。　

The　pat　was　an　accolade。　　It　was　as　precious　to　the　boy　as　it　would

have　been　if　he　had　been　an　aristocrat's　son　and　the　accolade　had

been　delivered　by　his　sovereign　with　a　sword。　　The　quintessence

of　the　honor　was　all　there；　there　was　no　difference　in　values；

in　truth　there　was　no　difference　present　except　an　artificial　one

clothes。



All　the　human　race　loves　a　lordthat　is；　loves　to　look　upon

or　be　noticed　by　the　possessor　of　Power　or　Conspicuousness；

and　sometimes　animals；　born　to　better　things　and　higher　ideals；

descend　to　man's　level　in　this　matter。　　In　the　Jardin　des　Plantes

I　have　see　a　cat　that　was　so　vain　of　being　the　personal　friend

of　an　elephant　that　I　was　ashamed　of　her。