i and my chimney-第3部分

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chambers　on　either　hand。　This　gallery；　of　course；　is　railed；　and

so；　looking　down　upon　the　stairs；　and　all　those　landing…places

together；　with　the　main　one　at　bottom；　resembles　not　a　little　a

balcony　for　musicians；　in　some　jolly　old　abode；　in　times

Elizabethan。　Shall　I　tell　a　weakness？　I　cherish　the　cobwebs

there；　and　many　a　time　arrest　Biddy　in　the　act　of　brushing　them

with　her　broom；　and　have　many　a　quarrel　with　my　wife　and

daughters　about　it。　



Now　the　ceiling；　so　to　speak；　of　the　place　where　you　enter　the

house；　that　ceiling　is；　in　fact；　the　ceiling　of　the　second　floor；

not　the　first。　The　two　floors　are　made　one　here；　so　that

ascending　this　turning　stairs；　you　seem　going　up　into　a　kind　of

soaring　tower；　or　lighthouse。　At　the　second　landing；　midway　up

the　chimney；　is　a　mysterious　door；　entering　to　a　mysterious

closet；　and　here　I　keep　mysterious　cordials；　of　a　choice；

mysterious　flavor；　made　so　by　the　constant　nurturing　and　subtle

ripening　of　the　chimney's　gentle　heat；　distilled　through　that

warm　mass　of　masonry。　　Better　for　wines　is　it　than　voyages　to　the

Indias；　my　chimney　itself　a　tropic。　A　chair　by　my　chimney　in　a

November　day　is　as　good　for　an　invalid　as　a　long　season　spent　in

Cuba。　Often　I　think　how　grapes　might　ripen　against　my　chimney。　

How　my　wife's　geraniums　bud　there！　Bud　in　December。　Her　eggs；

toocan't　keep　them　near　the　chimney；　an　account　of　the

hatching。　Ah；　a　warm　heart　has　my　chimney。　



How　often　my　wife　was　at　me　about　that　projected　grand

entrance…hall　of　hers；　which　was　to　be　knocked　clean　through　the

chimney；　from　one　end　of　the　house　to　the　other；　and　astonish　all

guests　by　its　generous　amplitude。　〃But；　wife；〃　said　I；　〃the

chimneyconsider　the　chimney：　if　you　demolish　the　foundation；

what　is　to　support　the　superstructure？〃　〃Oh；　that　will　rest　on

the　second　floor。〃　The　truth　is；　women　know　next　to　nothing　about

the　realities　of　architecture。　　However；　my　wife　still　talked　of

running　her　entries　and　partitions。　She　spent　many　long　nights

elaborating　her　plans；　in　imagination　building　her　boasted　hall

through　the　chimney；　as　though　its　high　mightiness　were　a　mere

spear　of　sorrel…top。　At　last；　I　gently　reminded　her　that；　little

as　she　might　fancy　it；　the　chimney　was　a　facta　sober；

substantial　fact；　which；　in　all　her　plannings；　it　would　be　well

to　take　into　full　consideration。　But　this　was　not　of　much　avail。　



And　here；　respectfully　craving　her　permission；　I　must　say　a　few

words　about　this　enterprising　wife　of　mine。　Though　in　years

nearly　old　as　myself；　in　spirit　she　is　young　as　my　little　sorrel

mare；　Trigger；　that　threw　me　last　fall。　What　is　extraordinary；

though　she　comes　of　a　rheumatic　family；　she　is　straight　as　a

pine；　never　has　any　aches；　while　for　me　with　the　sciatica；　I　am

sometimes　as　crippled　up　as　any　old　apple…tree。　But　she　has　not

so　much　as　a　toothache。　As　for　her　hearinglet　me　enter　the

house　in　my　dusty　boots；　and　she　away　up　in　the　attic。　And　for

her　sightBiddy；　the　housemaid；　tells　other　people's　housemaids；

that　her　mistress　will　spy　a　spot　on　the　dresser　straight　through

the　pewter　platter；　put　up　on　purpose　to　hide　it。　Her　faculties

are　alert　as　her　limbs　and　her　senses。　No　danger　of　my　spouse

dying　of　torpor。　The　longest　night　in　the　year　I've　known　her　lie

awake；　planning　her　campaign　for　the　morrow。　She　is　a　natural

projector。　The　maxim；　〃Whatever　is；　is　right；〃　is　not　hers。　Her

maxim　is；　Whatever　is；　is　wrong；　and　what　is　more；　must　be

altered；　and　what　is　still　more；　must　be　altered　right　away。

Dreadful　maxim　for　the　wife　of　a　dozy　old　dreamer　like　me；　who

dote　on　seventh　days　as　days　of　rest；　and　out　of　a　sabbatical

horror　of　industry；　will；　on　a　week　day；　go　out　of　

my　road　a　quarter　of　a　mile；　to　avoid　the　sight　of　a　man　at　work。



That　matches　are　made　in　heaven；　may　be；　but　my　wife　would　have

been　just　the　wife　for　Peter　the　Great；　or　Peter　the　Piper。　How

she　would　have　set　in　order　that　huge　littered　empire　of　the　one；

and　with　indefatigable　painstaking　picked　the　peck　of　pickled

peppers　for　the　other。　



But　the　most　wonderful　thing　is；　my　wife　never　thinks　of　her　end。

Her　youthful　incredulity；　as　to　the　plain　theory；　and　still

plainer　fact　of　death；　hardly　seems　Christian。　Advanced　in　years；

as　she　knows　she　must　be；　my　wife　seems　to　think　that　she　is　to

teem　on；　and　be　inexhaustible　forever。　She　doesn't　believe　in　old

age。　At　that　strange　promise　in　the　plain　of　Mamre；　my　old　wife；

unlike　old　Abraham's；　would　not　have　jeeringly　laughed　within

herself。　



Judge　how　to　me；　who；　sitting　in　the　comfortable　shadow　of　my

chimney；　smoking　my　comfortable　pipe；　with　ashes　not　unwelcome　at

my　feet；　and　ashes　not　unwelcome　all　but　in　my　mouth；　and　who　am

thus　in　a　comfortable　sort　of　not　unwelcome；　though；　indeed；　ashy

enough　way；　reminded　of　the　ultimate　exhaustion　even　of　the　most

fiery　life；　judge　how　to　me　this　unwarrantable　vitality　in　my

wife　must　come；　sometimes；　it　is　true；　with　a　moral　and　a　calm；

but　oftener　with　a　breeze　and　a　ruffle。　



If　the　doctrine　be　true；　that　in　wedlock　contraries　attract；　by

how　cogent　a　fatality　must　I　have　been　drawn　to　my　wife！　While

spicily　impatient　of　present　and　past；　like　a　glass　of

ginger…beer　she　overflows　with　her　schemes；　and；　with　like　energy

as　she　puts　down　her　foot；　puts　down　her　preserves　and　her

pickles；　and　lives　with　them　in　a　continual　future；　or　ever　full

of　expectations　both　from　time　and　space；　is　ever　restless　for

newspapers；　and　ravenous　for　letters。　Content　with　the　years　that

are　gone；　taking　no　thought　for　the　morrow；　and　looking　for　no

new　thing　from　any　person　or　quarter　whatever；　I　have　not　a

single　scheme　or　expectation　on　earth；　save　in　unequal　resistance

of　the　undue　encroachment　of　hers。　



Old　myself；　I　take　to　oldness　in　things；　for　that　cause　mainly

loving　old　Montague；　and　old　cheese；　and　old　wine；　and　eschewing

young　people；　hot　rolls；　new　books；　and　early　potatoes　and　very

fond　of　my　old　claw…footed　chair；　and　old　club…footed　Deacon

White；　my　neighbor；　and　that　still　nigher　old　neighbor；　my

betwisted　old　grape…vine；　that　of　a　summer　evening　leans　in　his

elbow　for　cosy　company　at　my　window…sill；　while　I；　within　doors；

lean　over　mine　to　meet　his；　and　above　all；　high　above　all；　am

fond　of　my　high…mantled　old　chimney。　But　she；　out　of　the

infatuate　juvenility　of　hers；　takes　to　nothing　but　newness；　for

that　cause　mainly；　loving　new　cider　in　autumn；　and　in　spring；　as

if　she　were　own　daughter　of　Nebuchadnezzar；　fairly　raving　after

all　sorts　of　salads　and　spinages；　and　more　particularly　green

cucumbers　（though　all　the　time　nature　rebukes　such　unsuitable

young　hankerings　in　so　elderlv　a　person；　by　never　permitting　such

things　to　agree　with　her）；　and　has　an　itch　after　recently…

discovered　fine　prospects　（so　no　graveyard　be　in　the　background）；

and　also　after　Sweden…borganism；　and　the　Spirit　Rapping

philosophy；　with　other　new　views；　alike　in　things　natural　and

unnatural；　and　immortally　hopeful；　is　forever　making　new

flower…beds　even　on　the　north　side　of　the　house　where　the　bleak

mountain　wind　would　scarce　allow　the　wiry　weed　called　hard…hack

to　gain　a　thorough　footing；　and　on　the　road…side　sets　out　mere

pipe…stems　of　young　elms；　though　there　is　no　hope　of　any　shade

from　them；　except　over　the　ruins　of　her　great　granddaughter's

gravestones；　and　won't　wear　caps；　but　plaits　her　gray　hair；　and

takes　the　Ladies'　Magazine　for　the　fashions；　and　always　buys　her

new　almanac　a　month　before　the　new　year；　and　rises　at　dawn；　and

to　the　warmest　sunset　turns　a　cold　shoulder；　and　still　goes　on　at

odd　hours　with　her　new　course　of　history；　and　her　French；　and　her

music；　and　likes　a　young　company；　and　offers　to　ride　young　colts；

and　sets　out　young　suckers　in　the　orchard；　and　has　a　spite

against　my　elbowed　old　grape…vine；　and　my　club…footed　old

neighbor；　and　my　claw…footed　old　chair；　and　above　all；　high　above

all；　would　fain　persecute；　until　death；　my　high…mantled　old

chimney。　By　what　perverse　magic；　I　a　thousand　times　think；　does

such　a　very　autumnal　old　lady　have　such　a　very　vernal　young　soul？

When　I　would　remonstrate　at　times；　she　spins　round　on　me　with；

〃Oh；　don't　you　grumble；　old　man　（she　always　calls　me　old　man）；

it's　I；　young　I；　that　keep　you　from　stagnating。〃　Well；　I　suppose

it　is　so。　Yea；　after　all；　these　things　are　well　ordered。　My　wife；

as　one　of　her　poor　relations；　good　soul；　intimates；　is　the　salt

of　the　earth；　and　none　the　less　the　salt　of　my　sea；　which

otherwise　were　unwholesome。　She　is　its　monsoon；　too；　blowing　a

brisk　gale　over　it；　in　the　one　steady　direction　of　my　chimney。　



Not　insensible　of　her　superior　energies；　my　wife　has　frequently

made　me　propositions　to　take　upon　herself　all　the

responsibilities　of　my　affairs。　She　is　desirous　that；

domestically；　I　should　abdicate；　that；　renouncing　further　rule；

like　the　venerable　Charles　V；　I　should　retire　intoo　some　sort　of

monastery。　But　indeed；　the　chimney　excepted；　I　have　little

authority　to　lay　down。　By　my　wife's　ingenious　application　of　the

principle　that　certain　things　belong　of　right　to　female

jurisdiction；　I　find　myself；　through　my　easy　compliances；

insensibly　stripped　by　degrees　of　one　masculine　prerogative　after

another。　In　a　dream　I　go　about　my　fields；　a　sort　of　lazy；

happy…go…lucky；　good…for…nothing；　loafing　old　Lear。　Only　by　some

sudden　revelation　am　I　reminded　who　is　over　me；　as　year　before

last；　one　day　seeing　in　one　corner　of　the　premises　fresh　deposits

of　mysterious　boards　and　timbers；　the　oddity　of　the　incident　at

length　begat　serious　meditation。　〃Wife；〃　said　I；　〃whose　boards

and　timbers　are　those　I　see　near　the　orchard　there？　Do　you　know

anything　about　them；　wife？　Who　put　them　there？　You　know　I　do　not

like　the　neighbors　to　use　my　land　that　way；　they　should　ask

permission　first。〃　



She　regarded　me　with　a　pitying　smile。



〃Why；　old　man；　don't　you　know　I　am　building　a　new　barn？　Didn'