Page:The Galaxy, Volume 6.djvu/129



HEN Antony, haranguing the Roman populace over the fallen Cæsar, said, "I tell you that which you yourselves do know," he was excusable for the superfluity, partly because his auditory did not know it at all, and partly because he talked interestingly on an interesting topic. His remarks were timely, moreover, and Rome stood on tiptoe to hear them; and it is quite likely that, although the Romans may have assented to the statement quoted above, yet they were a great deal more certain that they knew the things referred to after Antony's speech than before. Antony, therefore, spoke to a purpose, if he did declare what was well known; but there are many, very many people of later days who render themselves insufferable nuisances by doing the very same thing.

I wish to protest, in this public manner, and for the benefit of outraged and abused human nature, often too polite to assert its just social rights, against the further toleration of those horrible bores who will persist in telling you what you know quite as well, if not better, than their own ridiculous selves.

It is quite easy to illustrate. Thus: I was bidden to an evening party lately, and, under the compulsion of Mrs. Turveydrop, I reluctantly consented to the martyrdom of small (comparatively speaking) boots, and white (for about half an hour) gloves. My tormentor on this occasion was my host; but a proper sense of hospitality did not prevent him from agonizing my self-respect, and I'll not spare him. I was looking at the tolerably familiar portraiture of the "Reading of the Emancipation Proclamation," for the same reason that the stars in heaven are brightly shining in ballad, when Bigauger bustled up to me with an insane idea of making me feel at home.

"Ah, Turveydrop," said the little wretch, "that's a fine picture—very; represents one of the most momentous, if not the most momentous and significant of all events in American history. You can't begin to understand it without an explanation. You see it represents the reading of the Eman—"

"Yes, Bigauger—thank you. I know all about it," say I, meekly and kindly, thinking at once to relieve myself of this tormentor. Vain thought!

"—cipation Proclamation, by Lincoln, who was our last President, you see. Its purpose was to free the slave, and the artist rightly chose the consideration of the subject for a great historical painting. Look at the figures, Turveydrop, and—"

"Why, I could draw them all from memory," break in I, a little nettled. Bigauger observes my tone, and takes me firmly by the button, lest I escape. "I've seen most of these men, and am familiar with pictures of all of them."

"The central figure, seated," continues the wretch, as complacently and patronizingly as though he hadn't heard a word of my interruption—"the central