It occurs to me now that I have never seen the ice-storm
put upon canvas, and have not heard that any painter
has tried to do it. I wonder why that is.
Is it that paint cannot counterfeit the intense blaze
of a sun-flooded jewel? There should be, and
must be, a reason, and a good one, why the most enchanting
sight that Nature has created has been neglected by
the brush.
Often, the surest way to convey misinformation is
to tell the strict truth. The describers of
the Taj have used the word gem in its strictest sense—its
scientific sense. In that sense it is a mild
word, and promises but little to the eye-nothing bright,
nothing brilliant, nothing sparkling, nothing splendid
in the way of color. It accurately describes
the sober and unobtrusive gem-work of the Taj; that
is, to the very highly-educated one person in a thousand;
but it most falsely describes it to the 999.
But the 999 are the people who ought to be especially
taken care of, and to them it does not mean quiet-colored
designs wrought in carnelians, or agates, or such
things; they know the word in its wide and ordinary
sense only, and so to them it means diamonds and rubies
and opals and their kindred, and the moment their
eyes fall upon it in print they see a vision of glorious
colors clothed in fire.
These describers are writing for the “general,”
and so, in order to make sure of being understood,
they ought to use words in their ordinary sense, or
else explain. The word fountain means one thing
in Syria, where there is but a handful of people;
it means quite another thing in North America, where
there are 75,000,000. If I were describing some
Syrian scenery, and should exclaim, “Within the
narrow space of a quarter of a mile square I saw,
in the glory of the flooding moonlight, two hundred
noble fountains—imagine the spectacle!”
the North American would have a vision of clustering
columns of water soaring aloft, bending over in graceful
arches, bursting in beaded spray and raining white
fire in the moonlight-and he would be deceived.
But the Syrian would not be deceived; he would merely
see two hundred fresh-water springs—two
hundred drowsing puddles, as level and unpretentious
and unexcited as so many door-mats, and even with
the help of the moonlight he would not lose his grip
in the presence of the exhibition. My word “fountain”
would be correct; it would speak the strict truth;
and it would convey the strict truth to the handful
of Syrians, and the strictest misinformation to the
North American millions. With their gems—and
gems—and more gems—and gems
again—and still other gems—the
describers of the Taj are within their legal but not
their moral rights; they are dealing in the strictest
scientific truth; and in doing it they succeed to admiration
in telling “what ain’t so.”
CHAPTER LX.
Satan (impatiently) to new-comer.
The trouble with you Chicago people is, that you
think you are the best people down here; whereas you
are merely the most numerous.
—Pudd’nhead
Wilson’s New Calendar.
Copyrights
Following the Equator from Project Gutenberg. Public domain.
