Or perhaps the explanation is that offered by Fielding, the novelist. He belonged to a branch of the Earl of Denbigh's family, but the Denbighs spelt their family name Feilding. When the novelist was asked to explain the difference between the rendering3 of his name and theirs, he replied: "I suppose they don't know how to spell." That is probably the case of the Thompsons. They don't know how to spell.
But whatever the origin of these variations we are attached to our own forms with obstinate4 pride. We feel an outrage5 on our names as if it were an outrage on our persons. It was such an outrage that led to one of Stevenson's most angry outbursts. Some American publisher had pirated one of his books. But it was not the theft that angered him so much as the misspelling of his name. "I saw my book advertised as the work of R. L. Stephenson," he says, "and I own I boiled. It is so easy to know the name of a man whose book you have stolen, for there it is full length on the title-page of your booty. But no, damn him, not he! He calls me Stephenson." I am grateful to Stevenson for that word. It expresses my feelings about the fellow who calls me Thompson. Thompson, indeed!
I felt at this moment almost a touch of sympathy with that snob6, Sir Frederic Thesiger, the uncle of the first Lord Chelmsford. He was addressed one day as "Mr. Smith," and the blood of all the Thesigers (whoever they may have been) boiled within him. "Do I look like a person of the name of Smith?" he asked scornfully, and passed on. And as the blood of all the Thomsons boils within me I ask, "Do I look like a person of the name of Thompson? Now do I?" And yet I suppose one may fall as much in love with the name of Smith as with the name of Thesiger, if it happens to be one's own. I should like to try the experiment on Sir F. E. Smith. I should like to address him as Sir Frederic Thesiger and see how the blood of all the Smiths would take it.
It is, I suppose, the feeling of the loss of our identity that annoys us when people play tricks with our names. We want to be ourselves and not somebody else. We don't want to be cut off from our ancestry7 and the fathers that begat us. We may not know much about our ancestors, and may not care much about them. Most of us, I suppose, are in the position of Sydney Smith. "I found my neighbours," he said, "were looking up their family tree, and I thought I would do the same, but I only got as far back as my great-grandfather, who disappeared somewhere about the time of the Assizes." If we go far enough back we shall all find ancestors who disappeared about the time of the Assizes, or, still worse, ought to have disappeared and didn't. But, such as they are, we belong to them, and don't want to be confounded with those fellows, the Thompsons.
And there is another reason for the annoyance. To misspell a man's name is to imply that he is so obscure and so negligible that you do not know how to address him and that you think so meanly of him that you need not trouble to find out. It is to offer him the subtlest of all insults—especially if he is a Scotsman. The old prides and hatreds8 of the clans9 still linger in the forms of the Scotch10 names, and I believe you may make a mortal enemy of, let us say, Mr. Macdonald by calling him Mr. M'Donald or vice11 versa. Indeed, I recall the case of a malignant12 Scotch journalist who used systematically13 to spell a political opponent's name M'Intosh instead of Mackintosh because he knew it made him "boil," as Stephenson made R. L. S. boil or as Thompson makes me boil.
Nor is this reverence14 for our names a contemptible15 vanity. I like a man who stands by his name and distrust the man who buys, borrows, or steals another. I have never thought so well of Bishop16 Percy, the author of "Percy's Reliques," since I discovered that his real name was Piercy, and that, being the son of a grocer, he knocked his "i" out and went into the Church, in order to set up a claim to belong to the house of the Duke of Northumberland. He even put the Percy arms on his monument in Dromore Cathedral, and, not content with changing his own name, altered the maiden17 name of his wife from Gutteridge to Godriche. I am afraid Bishop Percy was a snob.
There are, of course, cases in which men change their names for reputable reasons, to continue a distinguished18 family association and so on; but the man who does it to cover up his tracks has usually "something rotten about him," as Johnson would say. He stamps himself as a counterfeit19 coin, like M. Fellaire in Anatole France's "Jocaste." When he first started business his brass20 plate ran "Fellaire (de Sisac)." On removing to new premises21 he dropped the parentheses22 and put up a plate with "Fellaire, de Sisac." Changing residence again, he dropped the comma and became "Fellaire de Sisac."
It is possible of course to go to the other extreme—to err23, as it were, on the side of honesty. I know a lady who began life with the maiden name of Bloomer. She married a Mr. Watlington and became Mrs. Bloomer-Watlington. Her husband died and she married a Mr. Dodd, whereupon she styled herself Mrs. Bloomer-Watlington-Dodd. She is still fairly young and Mr. Dodd, I regret to say, is in failing health. Already I have to write her name in smallish characters to get it into a single line on the envelope. I see the time approaching when I shall have to turn over and write, let us say,
There is no need to be so aggressively faithful to one's names as all this. It is hard on your children and trying to your friends, who may have difficulty in remembering which husband came before the others. After all, a name is only a label, and if it is honest the shorter it is the better.
But the spirit of the thing is right. Let us avoid disguises. Let us stick to our names, be they ever so humble24. Let us follow the great example of Cicero. His name originated with an ancestor who had a nick or dent1 at the tip of his nose which resembled the opening in a vetch—cicer. When he was standing25 for public office some anxious friends suggested that the young man should assume a nobler name, but he declined, saying that he would make the name of Cicero more glorious than the Scauri or Catuli. And grandly did he redeem26 the promise. The Scauri and the Catuli live to-day only by the fact that Cicero once mentioned them, while we know Cicero far better than we know our next door neighbour. It is a good precedent27 for Thomson. I have a mind to make that name outlast28 the Cecils and Marlboroughs, if not the Pyramids. And cursed be he who desecrates29 it with a "p."
点击收听单词发音
1 dent | |
n.凹痕,凹坑;初步进展 | |
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2 annoyance | |
n.恼怒,生气,烦恼 | |
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3 rendering | |
n.表现,描写 | |
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4 obstinate | |
adj.顽固的,倔强的,不易屈服的,较难治愈的 | |
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5 outrage | |
n.暴行,侮辱,愤怒;vt.凌辱,激怒 | |
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6 snob | |
n.势利小人,自以为高雅、有学问的人 | |
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7 ancestry | |
n.祖先,家世 | |
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8 hatreds | |
n.仇恨,憎恶( hatred的名词复数 );厌恶的事 | |
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9 clans | |
宗族( clan的名词复数 ); 氏族; 庞大的家族; 宗派 | |
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10 scotch | |
n.伤口,刻痕;苏格兰威士忌酒;v.粉碎,消灭,阻止;adj.苏格兰(人)的 | |
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11 vice | |
n.坏事;恶习;[pl.]台钳,老虎钳;adj.副的 | |
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12 malignant | |
adj.恶性的,致命的;恶意的,恶毒的 | |
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13 systematically | |
adv.有系统地 | |
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14 reverence | |
n.敬畏,尊敬,尊严;Reverence:对某些基督教神职人员的尊称;v.尊敬,敬畏,崇敬 | |
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15 contemptible | |
adj.可鄙的,可轻视的,卑劣的 | |
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16 bishop | |
n.主教,(国际象棋)象 | |
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17 maiden | |
n.少女,处女;adj.未婚的,纯洁的,无经验的 | |
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18 distinguished | |
adj.卓越的,杰出的,著名的 | |
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19 counterfeit | |
vt.伪造,仿造;adj.伪造的,假冒的 | |
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20 brass | |
n.黄铜;黄铜器,铜管乐器 | |
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21 premises | |
n.建筑物,房屋 | |
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22 parentheses | |
n.圆括号,插入语,插曲( parenthesis的名词复数 ) | |
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23 err | |
vi.犯错误,出差错 | |
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24 humble | |
adj.谦卑的,恭顺的;地位低下的;v.降低,贬低 | |
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25 standing | |
n.持续,地位;adj.永久的,不动的,直立的,不流动的 | |
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26 redeem | |
v.买回,赎回,挽回,恢复,履行(诺言等) | |
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27 precedent | |
n.先例,前例;惯例;adj.在前的,在先的 | |
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28 outlast | |
v.较…耐久 | |
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29 desecrates | |
毁坏或亵渎( desecrate的第三人称单数 ) | |
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