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 category
improved performance | sports & games
(2 ee
content

* understand the basic principles

- learn how to bid’accurately
¢ develop your cardplay technique
 teach
yourself

bridge
david bird

For over 60 years, more than

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750 subjects the teach yourself
way, with impressive results.

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Year 2009 2008 2007 2006
foreword viii

S$]
01 if the game is new to you
what is a ‘trick’?
when you cannot follow suit
what are ‘trumps’?
the play of a whole hand in no-trumps
the play of a whole hand, with trumps
the purpose of the bidding PY
Ww
of
on

when can | open the bidding?

how the auction proceeds 11
making a ‘game’ 12
points to remember 14
test yourself 14
02 making tricks in a single suit 16
establishing a suit 17
leading towards high cards 19
the simple finesse 22
double and combination finesses 24
points to remember 25
test yourself 25
03 the play at no-trumps 27
establish the long suit 28
combining two chances 30
points to remember 31
04 the play in a suit contract 32
should | draw trumps straight away? 33
taking ruffs in the dummy 34
taking discards 35
points to remember 36
05 opening 1NT and responses 37
the weak no-trump (UK) 38
the strong no-trump (USA) 40
the Stayman Convention 43
when you are balanced with 18-19 points 44
points to remember 44
test yourself 45
opening suit bids of one and responses 46
responding to a one-bid 48
one-level opening bids —
points to remember 53
responding to one-level bids —
points to remember 53
test yourself 53
07 the opener’s rebid 54
partner has responded 1NT 96
partner has responded 2NT 57
partner has made a single raise o7
partner has made a double raise 98
partner has responded in a new suit
at the one level 60
partner has responded in a new suit
at the two-level 62
partner has made a jump shift 63
points to remember 64
test yourself 64
the responder’s rebid 65
the opener made a simple rebid in his suit 66
the opener made a jump rebid in his suit 68
the opener rebid in no-trumps 68
 the opener raised the responder’s suit 69
the opener introduced a new suit 70
the ‘fourth suit forcing’ convention 71
points to remember 73 <
s]u9}u
test yourself 74
techniques in no-trumps 75
playing into the safe hand res
ducking to maintain an entry 80
points to remember 82
test yourself 83
10 techniques in a suit contract 84
making extra tricks by ruffing 86
ruffing high to avoid an overruff 87
establishing a suit by ruffing 89
planning a suit contract 90
points to remember 92
test yourself 92
11 the scoring 94
slam and rubber bonuses 98
scoring honours 99
bonuses for making a doubled contract 99
when a rubber cannot be completed 99
test yourself 100
12 strong two-level openings 101
the 2NT opening 102
opening Two Diamonds, Two Hearts and
Two Spades 103
opening Two Clubs, unbalanced hand 105
opening Two Clubs, balanced hand 106
points to remember 106
test yourself 106
13 opening bids of three and four 109
opening Three bids 109
responding to Three bids 110
opening Four bids 112
 points to remember 112
test yourself 113
14 bidding slams 114
do we have enough power for a slam? 115
the Blackwood Convention 117
control-showing cue bids 118
the mathematics of slam bidding 119
points to remember 120
test yourself 120
15 overcalls 122
simple overcalls at the one level 123
simple overcalls at the two level 125
intermediate jump overcalls 125
the 1NT jump overcall 126
responding to suit overcalls 126
points to remember 127
test yourself 128
16 penalty and take-out doubles 130
distinguishing between take-out and
penalty doubles 132
the requirements for a take-out double 133
take-out double on a strong hand 134
* responding to a take-out double 134
leaving in a take-out double 136
redouble by the third player 137
points to remember 137
test yourself 138
17 basic moves in defence 139
second hand plays low 140
third hand plays high 142
be wary of starting a new suit 144
points to remember 146
18 leads, signals and discards 147
the lead at no-trumps 148
the lead in a suit contract 150
 signals 152
=.
discards 154 2
°
points to remember 155 3mal
®3
test yourself 155 a
19 different forms of bridge 157
rubber bridge 158
Chicago bridge 158
duplicate bridge (pairs) 159
duplicate bridge (teams-of-four) 160
glossary 161
taking it further 166
useful postal addresses 166
useful websites 166
index 168
 Bridge is one of the world’s finest card games, a source of
endless fascination, and an entry into a world of new friends.

2)
PAOMO1OJ,
How good a player will you be after absorbing the contents of
this book? The game consists of two parts — the bidding and the
play of the cards. Bidding is easily learnt from a book. By the
time you have turned the final page, your bidding will be better
than that of the majority of bridge players. Learning to play the
cards well is more difficult and takes time. We cover the basics
here. You will find that your cardplay improves gradually, every
time that you play.
One thing is certain. You will never regret the day that you first
took up bridge, the king of card games.
David Bird
5
©
= JU}
O
=

<
OS
=
oweb
9SI In this chapter you will learn:
e about tricks and trumps
¢ how a hand is played
e the purpose of the bidding.
 Bridge is the most famous card game in the world, rivalled for
N
=
the title only by poker. It is a game for four players. The players
>
ee who sit opposite each other are partners and compete against
® the other two players.
@
7]
3 Thirteen cards are dealt face down to each player and the first
®
z task is to ‘sort out’ the hand. Each player picks up his cards and
s
® places together all the cards in the same suit. The rank of the
= cards is the standard one:
(highest) Ace King Queen Jack 10 9 8 7 6 5 4 3 2 (lowest)
Within a suit it is normal to sort your cards from left to right in
LO descending order of rank, so you might sort out your hand to
look like this:
#4 AQ62 V 75.2 #KQ102 & K4
A bridge player, describing this hand, would say ‘I held four
spades to the ace-queen, three small hearts, four diamonds to
the king-queen-10 and king doubleton of clubs.’
Once all four players have sorted their hands, the ‘bidding’ takes
place. We will see in a moment how players make their bids, but
the general purpose is for a partnership to determine how many
tricks they will make when the cards are played and whether
one of the four suits should be made trumps. (Don’t worry if the
notion of ‘tricks’ or ‘trumps’ is new to you. We will cover this
in a moment.)
Once the bidding is over, it is time for the cards to be played.
The partnership that made the highest bid during the bidding
tries to make the number of tricks that it said it could. The
score is calculated and then another hand is dealt.
That was a brief summary of a hand of bridge. It will be easier
to understand the bidding if we describe first how the play
proceeds. Should you already be familiar with the idea of tricks
and trumps, you may assume a superior expression and skip to
page 5.

What is a ‘trick’?
The four players sitting at the card table are referred to as North,
East, South and West in bridge books and newspaper columns.
A trick consists of one card from each of the four players. The
cards are played in turn, around the table, in a clockwise o
direction. If West is first to play to a trick, North will play the ah
second card, East the third card, and South the last card. “®
This is a typical trick, with West playing first (or leading to the Q®
trick, as bridge players say): =!
®z
North 3
2
a2 =
West East
@ 3 led aK
South
aA LO
West leads the 3 of spades. North plays the 2, East the king, and
South the ace. South ‘wins the trick’ because he played the
highest card. The four cards are gathered together and placed
face down on the pile of tricks for North-South. (North and
South are acting as a partnership, remember.)
As you saw, everyone played the same suit, here a spade. It is a
requirement of the game that you must play the same suit as that
of the card led. If a club is led, for example, you must play a club
if you have any clubs in your hand.
Each player starts with 13 cards. So, when all the cards have
been played 13 tricks will have been won between the two sides.
If North-South held roughly the same number of high cards
(such as aces and kings) as East-West, they might perhaps score
seven tricks and East-West would score the remaining six. If
instead North-South were dealt nearly all the high cards, they
might score 12 tricks and the other side only one. When we
come to look at the bidding, we will see that the two sides have
to estimate how many tricks they will take. They have to do this
before the play actually starts.

When you cannot follow suit

Suppose you are dealt only two spades. On the first two
occasions when a spade is led, you will be able to follow with a
spade. The third time a spade is led, you will have no spade to
play. You are then allowed to play any card you wish from a
different suit.
 North
P=
= a6
S:
[onof
West East
® 4 J led a5
@
o
3 South
®
a &2
@ We will assume that two rounds (tricks) of spades have already
=
been played. On the third round West leads the jack, which is
the highest spade outstanding. North and East follow suit with
smaller cards. South has no spades left in his hand, so he
‘discards’ or ‘throws’ a club.
LO West wins the trick because he played the highest spade on the
trick. He would have won the trick even if South had discarded
the ace of clubs. In the absence of a trump suit (which will be
explained in the next section) a trick is won by the highest card
played in the suit that was led. So, it is possible to win a trick
with a 2! If no one can follow suit, you can lead a 2 and score
a trick with it.
Whoever wins one trick is first to play to the next. Suppose this
is the first trick of a hand:
North
aK
West East
4 Q led aA
South
42
West leads the queen of spades. North ‘covers’ with the king and
East wins the trick with the ace, South following with a small
card. Since East won this trick he will be first to play to the next
trick. It is entirely his choice whether he leads a spade to the
next trick, or some other suit.

What are ‘trumps’?

On most hands, but not all, one of the four suits becomes
trumps. The trump suit is more powerful than all the other suits.
Any trump, even the 2, has the power to beat any card ina
different suit. Players must always follow suit if they can, but
when they have no card remaining in the suit led, they can play
a trump. This will win the trick, unless someone subsequently oO
plays a higher trump to the trick.
Let’s suppose that hearts are trumps and this is the first trick of
the hand:
North
aK
West East swe
J!
3u}
Si
Meu
4 Q led aA
South
¥ 3
West leads the queen of spades, covered by the king and ace. LO
South was dealt no spades (he was ‘void’ in spades, as bridge
players say). He is therefore allowed to trump, or ‘ruff’, the
trick. Hearts are trumps and South’s ¥ 3 wins the trick.
This is what may happen when there are two players who
cannot follow suit (again hearts are trumps):
North
a9
West East
4 8 led 94
South
v5
West leads # 8 and this is beaten by North’s # 9. East has no
spades left and chooses to ruff with the 4. South also has no
spades left. He ‘overruffs’ with the 5 and wins the trick.

The play of a whole hand in no-trumps

No doubt you are itching to hear about the bidding. Not long
to wait! For the moment we are going to look at the play of two
whole hands.
The first will be played in no-trumps (without any suit as
trumps). As a result of the bidding, South must try to make nine
tricks. He is known as the ‘declarer’ and will play both his own
cards and those of the hand opposite (known as ‘the dummy’).
West will lead to the first trick.
Oo
4
¥752
e
= $92
®
©
©
AQJ32
3 @4K1082 N #AQ4
z® ¥Q104 vis
8= #J1054 gies ¢Q76
75 S #10984
4]65
¥AK63
#¢AK83
LO &K6
Trick 1 In no-trumps it is normal to lead from your strongest
suit. West leads # 2 and North now lays out his hand, which
will become the dummy. He arranges the cards not as you see
them in this diagram, but like this:
4 Vv 4 &
9 7, Ms A
f 5 Z Q
3 zZ J
3
2
Declarer reaches forward to play a low spade from dummy. East
plays the ace of spades, winning the trick, and the declarer
follows with the 5.
Trick 2 Since East won the first trick, he leads to the second. He
leads the queen of spades and the other three players follow
with the 6, 8 and 7.
Trick 3 East is still on lead. He leads his last spade and West
captures South’s jack with the king.
Trick 4 West leads @ 10. This is the last spade and since no suit
has been made trumps on this hand, it must win the trick.
Declarer plans to make tricks with dummy’s club suit later, so he
throws a heart (or a diamond) from the dummy. The next two
players throw a heart too.
Trick 5 Declarer’s target (set in the bidding) was nine tricks. If
the defenders could score one more trick, they would defeat
him. Unfortunately for West, he does not have another trick to
take. He leads J, South winning with the king.
Trick 6 Declarer now seeks to make five tricks in clubs. To =]
achieve this he must take one club trick with the king, then four =
more with dummy’s clubs. (It usually works best if you play first =
Fad

the high cards in the shorter holding.) South leads # K, the ®

ro)
other three hands following with low clubs. 7)
e.
®
z
Trick 7 Declarer leads # 6 and wins the trick with dummy’s ace.
=|
You see the advantage of playing the king on the first round? ®
=
The lead is now in dummy and declarer will be able to make
tricks with the other high clubs.
Tricks 8 and 9 Declarer wins the next two tricks by leading the
queen of clubs, and then the jack of clubs.
Trick 10 Declarer leads dummy’s last club, the 3. No one else
LO
has any clubs left, so this lowly card wins the trick, everyone
else discarding.
Trick 11 Declarer leads a heart from dummy and wins the trick
with the ace.
Trick 12 Declarer wins the penultimate trick with the king of
hearts.
Trick 13 Declarer wins the last trick with the ace of diamonds.
What was the effect of all that? The defenders scored four tricks
and the declarer scored nine. Since that was his target, he was
successful on this occasion. Bridge players would say, ‘South
scored nine tricks in no-trumps.’
When you are new to the game, it’s not easy to follow the play
of a hand from a diagram. You will soon get used to it. Look
back to the full diagram. If you showed it to a bridge player and
asked him how many tricks could be made in no-trumps, he
would say, ‘You can make nine tricks: five in clubs, and four
more from the ace-kings in the red suits.’

The play of a whole hand, with trumps

The presence of a trump suit has a big effect on the play. On the
next deal North-South have ten spades between them. In the
bidding (yes, we know we haven’t explained that yet!) they have
decided to make the spade suit trumps. They have also set
themselves a target of ten tricks. Let’s see if South, the declarer,
can manage it.
©
me 9962
=)
>

®
#92
a
a
#A762
=)
®
4 83 N az
z VAKIJ874 ¥ Q103
s
® ¢Q73 Walt #J10654
= ay5 adh #KQ84
4AKJ1065
v5
¢AK8
LO #1093
Trick 1 West leads ¥ A, which wins the first trick.
Trick 2 West leads ¥ K. This does not win the trick. South has
no hearts left and is therefore allowed to trump (or ‘ruff’, as
most players say). He ruffs with # 5, winning the trick. This is
one of the big advantages of having a trump suit; you can stop
the opponents from making tricks in their own strong suit.
Trick 3 Declarer’s next move is to remove the defenders’ trumps.
He leads the ace of trumps, everyone following.
Trick 4 Declarer ‘draws a second round of trumps’. He leads a
low trump from his hand and wins with dummy’s queen of
trumps, East discarding a diamond.
Trick 5 Declarer makes a trick by leading a low diamond to his
ace.
Trick 6 Declarer makes a trick by leading @ K.
Trick 7 Declarer leads @ 8, West producing the queen. Now we
see the other main advantage of a trump suit. Declarer can score
an extra trick by ruffing in the dummy. He plays dummy’s # 4,
winning the trick.
Trick 8 Declarer makes a trick by leading # A.
Trick 9 Declarer has made seven tricks already and will
eventually make three more with the remaining three trumps in
his hand. He leads # 2 and East wins the trick with the king.
Trick 10 East makes a trick by leading # Q.
Trick 11 East leads ¥ Q, declarer ruffing with the 10.
Trick 12 Declarer makes a trick by leading the king of trumps.
Trick 13 Declarer makes a trick by leading the jack of trumps. ©
The end effect this time? Declarer made ten tricks with spades =
as trumps. Once again he was successful in achieving his target. >®
@9
If we showed the full diagram to a bridge player asking how 3
South would fare with spades as trumps, the reply would be: ‘It ®5
looks like ten tricks. Declarer can make six trump tricks in the 3®
South hand, three winners in clubs and diamonds, and one =
diamond ruff in the dummy.’
The great moment has arrived. Now that you have some idea of
how a hand is played, both in no-trumps and with one suit as
trumps, it is time to take our first look at the bidding. LO
The purpose of the bidding
Think back to the two hands we have just seen played. On one,
North-South played in no-trumps and scored nine tricks. On
the other, they played with spades as trumps and scored ten
tricks. The purpose of a partnership’s bidding is two-fold: to
decide which suit should be made trumps, if any, and to estimate
how many tricks they will be able to make.
A ‘bid’ is a way of describing your hand to your partner. By
telling each other which suits you hold length in, you hope to
find a good trump suit. By telling each other how strong you are
(in other words, whether you have a lot of high cards), you hope
to be able to estimate how many tricks you can make. All of this
is accomplished without seeing each other’s hands, of course.
You exchange information only by making bids.
So, how do you make a bid? A bid is a combination of a number
and a suggestion of what should be trumps. ‘One Heart’ is a bid,
so is ‘Three No-trumps’.
As well as describing your hand, a bid is an undertaking to score
a number of tricks with the named suit as trumps. There are 13
tricks to be won in all and the lowest number you are allowed
to attempt is seven. Since the first six tricks are assumed, a bid
One Heart means that you think you can make seven tricks with
hearts as trumps. Two Spades means you are willing to try for
eight tricks with spades as trumps. Three No-trumps? Yes, nine
tricks without any suit as trumps.
The number of tricks implied by a bid is always six more than
the number included in the bid. If you made a bid at the seven
level, such as Seven Clubs, you would have to score all 13 tricks.
 0 When can | open the bidding?
To measure how strong a hand is, in terms of high cards, some
=3 sort of scale is needed. This valuation is used worldwide:
®
@ra
3 Ace -— 4 points
®z
King — 3 points
8 Queen-— 2 points
= Jack —- 1 point
There are 10 points in each suit, 40 in the whole pack. Since the
cards are shared equally between the four players, an average
LO hand will contain 10 points. A sound general rule is that you
should open the bidding when you hold 12 points or more.
You will soon become familiar with counting the points in your
hand. How many points does this hand contain?
4AQ102
vK4
33
#AK832
There are 17 high-card points. Your best suit is clubs and you
would open ‘One Club’. What about this hand?
4AK 10963
v.62
¢KJ43
a5
You have 11 points, normally not quite enough to open the
bidding. Here, though, you have a very good six-card spade suit.
Long suits help you to make tricks in the play and increase the
value of your hand. You would open ‘One Spade’.
Suppose instead that you were dealt this moderate collection:
4382
¥Q9862
#104
#KJ62
It is a poor hand with fewer high cards than average. You would
say ‘No bid’ (or ‘Pass’ in USA) and your partner would then
know that your hand was relatively weak.
How the auction proceeds 1
So far we have looked only at the opening bid, the first bid in >
the auction. As you will have guessed from the word ‘auction’, ®
@D
there can be many bids on one deal. The dealer has the first
3
opportunity to make a bid, then the player to his left, and so on. ®z
The bidding goes round in a circle, clockwise. As with most 3
auctions your bid, if any, must be higher than the previous bid. ®
=
The bidding continues, higher and higher, until there are three
Passes in succession.
You may wonder if One Spade is a higher bid than One
Diamond. It is, in fact. This is the ranking order of the five
denominations: LO
No-trumps (highest)
Spades
Hearts
Diamonds
Clubs (lowest)
So, if the previous bid was One Club, you can bid One of any
other suit, or One No-trump. But if the previous bid was One
Spade and you want to bid clubs, you would have to bid at least
Two Clubs.
It often happens that both partnerships want to enter the
bidding. Here is a full deal with a typical competitive auction:
6Q942
9962
#92
A762
4 33 rs 47
VAKJ874 | yp ¥Q103
¢Q73 #J10654
ays S #KQ84
#AKJ1065
v5
#AK8
#1093
South West North East
14 29 24 39
" 484 Pass Pass Pass
 South has 15 points and a good spade suit. He opens the
bidding with One Spade. West has a good heart suit and enough
=
=® strength to enter the bidding. Since hearts rank below spades he
has to bid Two Hearts. North has a spade fit with his partner;
@
2 he ‘supports’ his partner by bidding Two Spades. Similarly, East
=
z® supports his partner.

@ Each bid is higher than the preceding one, as you see. Once his
2 partner has raised him to Two Spades, South thinks he will be
able to make ten tricks with spades as trumps. He therefore bids
Four Spades. No one wants to bid any more. Three consecutive
passes end the auction.
LO Four Spades is the final ‘contract’. The player who made the first
bid in the trump suit, South on this occasion, will become the
declarer. The player on his left, West, will make the opening lead.
Do you recognize the deal? It is one we looked at earlier. If you
look back to page 7 you will see that South is going to ‘make his
contract’. He will indeed score ten tricks in spades.

Making a ‘game’
You may wonder why, on the previous hand, South set himself
a target of ten tricks rather than just nine. After all, the higher
the target you set yourself, the more chance there is that you will
fail. The answer lies in the scoring system used for bridge.
Each trick that you bid and make, beyond the first six, has a
scoring value. It varies, depending on which suit is trumps.
Spades and hearts are known as the ‘major suits’; diamonds and
clubs are the ‘minor suits’. Tricks are worth more when a major
suit is trumps. This is the scale:
Diamonds or clubs are trumps: each trick scores 20
Spades or hearts are trumps: each trick scores 30
No-trumps: 1st trick scores 40, each other trick 30
The prime objective at bridge is to ‘make a game’. To do this
you must score 100 points. The important point to note is that
tricks only count towards game if you said you would make
them during the bidding.
Suppose you play with spades as trumps. To make a game you
would have to make Four Spades (ten tricks), because 4 X 30 =
120. And it’s not enough simply to score ten tricks, you must
also bid Four Spades. If, say, you were to bid Three Spades and 3
actually make ten tricks you would only score 3 X 30 = 90 =
points towards game. =®
Think of the level of a contract as setting the bar in high jump. @7
If you set the bar high and can clear it, you will get a big score. =
®z
If you knock the bar down (by not scoring as many tricks as you
said you would), you score nothing. 32
=
If the contract is set below the game level - Two Diamonds, for
example — then the points you score are left on the scoresheet
and will count towards the 100 you need for game. The contract
is called a ‘part score’. A part score of 40, followed by another
of 60, would give you a game. LO
We will not bother ourselves further with the scoring at this
stage. We will just say that you get a big bonus for making a
game. An even bigger bonus is awarded if you bid to the six
level and make it, known as a ‘small slam’. The biggest bonus of
all is awarded if you bid to the seven level and make it, a ‘grand
slam’.
These are the possible final contracts:

Part scores:

Small slams:
Grand slams:

The easiest route to game is to make 3NT, to score nine tricks

without any suit as trumps. Next easiest is 4¥ or 44, where you
need ten tricks. With clubs or diamonds as trumps you need to
bid 5 or 54. This is not a very attractive game to bid, since you
will need to score 11 tricks out of 13.
 Points to remember
-
e A bid consists of a number and a suggested choice of trumps.
ef Three Spades, for example, means that you think you can
®
a make nine (6 + 3) tricks with spades as trumps.
2
EB e Each bid must be higher than the preceding one. The bidding
®-
ends when there are three consecutive passes.
8= e The declarer is the player who made the first bid in the
chosen denomination (the trump suit, or no-trumps). He
must attempt to make the ‘final contract’. The player to
declarer’s left will make the opening lead. The next player’s
hand, the dummy, will then be placed face up on the table.
LO e The primary objective in bridge is to make a ‘game’, to score
100 points. 3NT is game contract; so are 4¥, 44, 5& and 54.
To score 100 points you must also bid the game. Only tricks
that were bid will count towards the 100 points for game.
e A contract worth less than 100 points is known as a ‘part
score’. The points gained still count towards a game. If you
make a part score of 60, a subsequent part score of 40 will
give you a game.

Test yourself
a Of the four suits, which ranks second highest?
b Suppose someone bids ‘Three Diamonds’. How many tricks
would they have to make if this becomes the final contract?
c How many points do you need to make game?
d If spades are trumps, how many tricks do you need for game?
e How many high-card points are there in this hand:
4AQJ53
¥ 10 83
7
®AK62
f Would you open the bidding on the hand in e? If so, what bid
would you make?
Answers 5
a Hearts. =

=®3
b Nine.
re)D
c 100.
3
d Ten. ®z
e 14.
3
f Yes. You would open One Spade. 2

LO
5
Q)
G

Buryew
S40}
9/6u
uns In this chapter you will learn:
¢ how to establish a suit
e to lead towards highcards
¢ how to finesse.
Before saying anything more about the bidding, we will look at 17
some of the ways in which you can score extra tricks in the play.
Until you have a rough idea of how tricks are won and plans are
formed, it will be hard to understand why, for example, it is os
w» @
reasonable to bid to 3NT on two particular hands in
combination.
ry
=
You need to be able to recognize how many tricks you can
»
expect from a particular suit. Sometimes it is easy to work out:
North
4AQ6
South
4K 83
c0
Clearly you can make three spade tricks, one with each high
card. But that is only the beginning. There are numerous ways
of establishing tricks from less substantial holdings.

Establishing a suit
When the opponents hold a high card in a suit where you hope
to score tricks, you will have to ‘knock it out’. Here the high
card you are missing is the ace:
North
¥QJ7
South
¥K83

So long as you do not commit the folly of playing two high

cards on the same trick, you can be sure of two tricks. You can
play a low card to the queen. If the ace does not appear, you lead
the jack to the next trick. The defenders will score one trick in
the suit, you will score two. You ‘knocked out the ace’ and
‘established two heart tricks’.
The play is much the same here:
North
#QJ105
South
@K4
18
By leading the king on the first round, then the 4, you can
establish three winners. As mentioned before, it is generally best
38
a
to play first any high cards in the shorter holding. Suppose
oS instead that you started with the queen and a defender won with
gS
any
the ace. Your king would win the next trick and the lead would
x
be in the wrong hand.
:
(77)
You may need to knock out more than one high card.
®
North
&#Q1085
South
0 &J92
After the defenders have taken their ace and king, you will win
two tricks.
Here you are missing three high cards:
North
439743
South
4108
Given time, you will be able to establish two winners, by
knocking out the ace, king and queen.
The number of tricks that you can establish will often depend
on how the opponents’ cards ‘break’ (or divide).
North
&9543
West East
QJ ®AK
South
#108762
Here the defenders hold four honours. Because of the 2-2 break
(each defender holds two cards) they will make only two tricks.
You lead one round of the suit and East wins with the king.
When you regain the lead and play a second round, East wins
with the ace and the defenders then have no clubs left. You will
score three tricks with the remaining small cards. They will be
‘good’, as bridge players say.
Had the defenders’ cards broken 3-1, the situation would be
less favourable: ,
 North 19
&9543 23
az
|]
West East
os
AQJ &K n@Q
Cc x
South ay
x
#108762 7)
5

_ Now you would have to play three rounds of the suit to knock ist)

out the defenders’ honours. You would then establish two tricks
for your small cards.
Sometimes you need to surrender one or more tricks to the
opponents, even when you hold the top cards yourself. C0
North
4A9643
West East
J8 #Q105
South
#K72
You can make two tricks with the king and ace, and then let
East make a trick with the queen. By this time, the defenders will
have no cards left in the suit. The last two cards in dummy will
be good and you will make a total of four tricks from the suit.
The defenders’ cards may not be so helpfully divided:
North
4A9643
West East
48 #QJ105
South
@K72

After making tricks with the king and ace, you would have to
let East win two tricks in order to establish a third diamond
trick for yourself.

Leading towards high cards

The ability to develop extra tricks will often depend on the
position of the defenders’ cards. A general principle is to lead
towards high cards, not away from them. This is the simplest
example:
8 North
V¥K5
23
39
az South
as
o@
Cc +
9643
+.:

x You should lead a low card towards the king in the North hand.
77)
5 If the ace is held by West, the king will win a trick. If instead you
© led the suit from dummy, you would never make a trick with the
king.
North
2Q63
c0 South
4A72
To make two tricks from this combination you must lead
towards the queen, hoping that West holds the king. There
would be no point at all in leading the queen from dummy. East
would cover with the king, if he held it; you would then make
only one trick wherever the king was.
The idea is the same when you are missing two high cards.
North
#QJ6
West East
#A52 #K 1083
South
974
To establish a trick you must lead twice towards the high cards
in dummy. On the first round East will win the queen with the
king. When you subsequently lead towards the jack, you cannot
be stopped from making one trick from the suit.
It is often possible to combine the techniques of leading towards
high cards and establishing low ones:
North
&KQ752
West East
&A104 &j9
South
&8 63
You lead towards dummy’s club honours. West plays low and 21
dummy’s king wins. You return to the South hand, by playing oa re
some other suit, and lead a second round of clubs. West will =) Fy
2 z
make one trick with the ace. Meanwhile, you will take four ®
a F
tricks — two with the king and queen, two with low cards. c a4
re
Let’s see how you might use one of these plays in the context of ey
=
a full deal.
»
4K73
¥KQ52
#942
®AQS
4QJ1042 N 498 C0
v¥AJ74 ¥ 108
07 Be. at #QJ1065
#1072 S #3864
4A65
9963
#¢AK83
&K93
South West North East
1NT Pass 3NT End
South opens 1NT. (We will discuss this bid in Chapter 05. Here
it shows a hand with 12-14 points and no particularly long
suit.) North also has a good hand and ‘raises to game’. He bids
3NT.
West leads # Q and you now pause for a moment to calculate
how you can make the required nine tricks. You can see two
certain tricks in spades, two in diamonds, and three in clubs.
That is seven easy tricks with top winners. To bring the total to
nine, two tricks will be needed from the heart suit. Your plan
will be to lead twice towards the high cards in dummy, hoping
that West holds the missing ace.
You win the spade lead with the ace and lead a heart. West plays
low and dummy’s king wins the trick. It would be no good
leading the second round of hearts from dummy; you must
return to your hand, to lead towards ¥ Q. The # S is led from
dummy and you win the trick with the king. You now lead a
second round of hearts. It makes no difference whether West
plays the ace or not. You will make a second heart trick with the
queen and that will bring your total to nine. 3NT bid and made.
8 The simple finesse
@3
39
Sometimes the honour card that you are hoping will score an
Qz
@s
extra trick is accompanied by a higher non-touching honour,
nw @
Cc =
this type of position:
— |
. O North
re
7)
> 4AQ6
®
West East
4K 1043 4J95
South
42872
c0 The ace is certain to score a trick, but you would like to score a
second trick with the queen. As usual, you must lead towards
the queen. You lead the 2 and, when West follows low, you play
the queen. Luck is with you on this occasion. Since West held
the missing king, the queen wins a trick.
This very common manoeuvre is known as a ‘finesse’. You took
a successful finesse of the queen of spades.
There are many different finessing positions.
North
¥K83
West East
¥1054 ¥'O.972
South
VAJ76
Here you are certain to make tricks with the king and ace; you
hope to score an extra trick with the jack. The king wins the
first round of the suit and you next lead ¥ 3, playing towards
the honour that you hope to make. East produces the 9 on the
second round and you play the jack, winning the trick. Even
more good luck is to come. When you play the ace on the third
round, both defenders follow. The last card in the South hand is
now good. You have made four tricks from the suit.
Here you take a finesse against the jack:
 North 23
&®K6S @3
5
West East az
05
&A84 &J973 wm @
Cc -
South im

"oO
fi

xa
#Q 102 >
You are certain to make one trick with the king or queen. You rs)
hope to make a second trick with the 10. You play low to the
king, winning the first trick. Next you lead dummy’s 5 and play
the 10 from the South hand. The 10 forces West’s ace and you
make two tricks from the suit.
There is a slightly different type of finesse, which involves
C0
leading a high card to a trick. Look at this position:
North
#A83
West East
#K64 9752
South
#QJ10

Do you see how to make three tricks from this diamond suit?
You lead the queen on the first round. If West does not play the
king, you play a low card from dummy. Because West holds the
king, your queen will win the trick. You now lead the jack. If at
any stage West plays the king, you will win it with dummy’s ace.
You score three tricks from the suit.
This position is exactly the same:
North
#AQ3
West East
#K64 49875
South
#jJ102

You lead the jack on the first round. If West covers with the
king, you win with the ace and make two more tricks with the
queen and 10. If West does not cover the jack, you will lead to
the queen on the next round. Three tricks either way.
24 Double and combination finesses
”
When you play for two cards to be favourably placed, you are
0o5
said to take a “double finesse’. Here you hope to catch the king
o @ and the jack:
2
ay
x North
2
o
¥AQ10
t:\)
West East
V¥KJ72 9943
South
9865
C0 You begin by leading low towards the 10. Since West holds both
the missing honours, the 10 wins the trick. You then return to
your hand (in some other suit) and play towards the queen.
Because the cards were so luckily placed, you could make three
tricks from the suit. Had East held the king and jack, both finesses
would have failed; you would have made only one trick. Much of
the time the defenders would hold one honour each. One finesse
would win, the other would lose; you would score two tricks.
Here you are missing the ace and queen:
North
@KJ73
West East
@2A92 42Q104
South
42865
You lead first towards the jack. This first shot is unsuccessful,
East winning with the queen. When you regain the lead, you
play towards the king. Better luck this time. The ace is ‘onside’
(as bridge players say) and dummy’s king wins the trick. When
you play a third round the good luck continues. The defenders’
cards break 3-3 and you score two tricks from the suit.
When two cards of equal rank are missing, you take a
‘combination finesse’. This is a common position:
North
#AJ1074
West East
#K92 Q8
South
653
A finesse of the 10 loses to the queen. On the next round a
successful finesse of the jack brings in the rest of the suit. You .2
will make four diamond tricks. 23
Here you are missing the ace, queen and jack: oe
£¢
North “3
#853 -
West East
&AI4 &Q762
South
#K109
©
You lead towards the 10, which loses to West’s jack. On the next NO
round you play to the 9, forcing West’s ace. The king will now
score a trick.
Do you see why this was the best way to play the suit? You
would make a trick if East held the queen, the jack, or both
those cards. The alternative play of leading towards the king on
the first round would yield a trick only when East holds the ace.

Points to remember
¢ When you are missing one or more top cards in a suit, you
can knock out the defenders’ stoppers and establish tricks
in the suit. A holding of @ K 10 6 3 opposite @ Q J 5 will
be worth three tricks, once you have knocked out the ace.
e You can often create extra tricks by leading towards high
cards. For example, you lead towards a king, hoping that
the ace lies to the left of the king.
e Another example of this technique is the ‘finesse’. You
lead towards a combination such as A Q and play the
queen in the hope that the next player does not hold the
king.

Test yourself
a How many tricks can you establish from # Q J 9 7
opposite # 10 5 3?
b If the cards lie at their most favourable, how many tricks
can you make from # A Q J 6 opposite # 5 4 2?
Discovering Diverse Content Through
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Title: A Fable for Critics

Author: James Russell Lowell

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Language: English

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*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK A FABLE FOR CRITICS ***
 ARIEL BOOKLETS.
———
A series of productions complete in small
compass, which have been accepted as classics
of their kind.
———
For full list see end of this volume.
 A Fable for Critics
by

James Russell Lowell

New York and London

G. P. Putnam’s Sons
The Knickerbocker Press

Copyright, 1848
By GEORGE P. PUTNAM

Copyright, 1890
By HOUGHTON, MIFFLIN & CO.
Note.—This edition is printed under the authorization of Messrs.
Houghton, Mifflin & Co., the publishers of the complete works of
James Russell Lowell.
The Knickerbocker Press, New York
 Reader! walk up at once (it will soon be too late) and
buy at a perfectly ruinous rate

A
FABLE FOR CRITICS;
OR, BETTER,

(I like, as a thing that the reader’s first fancy may strike,

an old-fashioned title-page,
such as presents a tabular view of the volume’s contents)

A GLANCE
AT A FEW OF OUR LITERARY PROGENIES

(Mrs Malaprop’s word)

FROM

THE TUB OF DIOGENES:

A VOCAL AND MUSICAL MEDLEY

THAT IS,

A SERIES OF JOKES

B y A W o n d e rf u l Q u i z,

who accompanies himself with a rub-a-dub-dub, full of spirit and

grace,
 on the top of the tub.

SET FORTH IN

October, the 21st day, in the year ’48

G. P. PUTNAM, BROADWAY
 PREFATORY NOTE
This jeu d’esprit was extemporized, I may fairly say, so rapidly
was it written, purely for my own amusement, and with no thought
of publication. I sent daily instalments of it to a friend in New York,
the late Chas F. Briggs. He urged me to let it be printed and I at last
consented to its anonymous publication. The secret was kept till
after several persons had laid claim to its authorship.

It being the commonest mode of procedure, I premise a few

candid remarks
TO THE READER:
This trifle, begun to please only myself and my own private
fancy, was laid on the shelf. But some friends, who had seen it,
induced me, by dint of saying they liked it, to put it in print. That is,
having come to that very conclusion, I asked their advice when ’t
would make no confusion. For though (in the gentlest of ways) they
had hinted it was scarce worth the while, I should doubtless have
printed it.
I began it, intending a Fable, a frail, slender thing, rhyme-
ywinged, with a sting in its tail. But, by addings and alterings not
previously planned, digressions chance-hatched, like birds’ eggs in
the sand, and dawdlings to suit every whimsey’s demand (always
freeing the bird which I held in my hand, for the two perched,
perhaps out of reach, in the tree),—it grew by degrees to the size
which you see. I was like the old woman that carried the calf, and
my neighbors, like hers, no doubt, wonder and laugh; and when, my
strained arms with their grown burthen full, I call it my Fable, they
call it a bull.
Having scrawled at full gallop (as far as that goes) in a style that
is neither good verse nor bad prose, and being a person whom
nobody knows, some people will say I am rather more free with my
readers than it is becoming to be, but I seem to expect them to wait
on my leisure in following wherever I wander at pleasure, that, in
short, I take more than a young author’s lawful ease and laugh in a
queer way so like Mephistopheles, that the Public will doubt, as
they grope through my rhythm, if in truth I am making fun of them
or with them.
So the excellent Public is hereby assured that the sale of my book
is already secured. For there is not a poet throughout the whole land
but will purchase a copy or two out of hand, in the fond expectation
of being amused in it, by seeing his betters cut up and abused in it.
Now, I find, by a pretty exact calculation, there are something like
ten thousand bards in the nation, of that special variety whom the
Review and Magazine critics call lofty and true, and about thirty
thousand (this tribe is increasing) of the kinds who are termed full of
promise and pleasing. The Public will see by a glance at this
schedule, that they cannot expect me to be over-sedulous about
courting them, since it seems I have got enough fuel made sure of
for boiling my pot.
As for such of our poets as find not their names mentioned once
in my pages, with praises or blames, let them SEND IN THEIR CARDS,
without further DELAY, to my friend G. P. Putnam, Esquire, in
Broadway, where a list will be kept with the strictest regard to the
day and the hour of receiving the card. Then, taking them up as I
chance to have time (that is if their names can be twisted in rhyme),
I will honestly give each his PROPER POSITION, at the rate of ONE AUTHOR to
each NEW EDITION. Thus a PREMIUM is offered sufficiently HIGH (as the
magazines say when they tell their best lie) to induce bards to CLUB
their resources and buy the balance of every edition, until they have
all of them fairly been run through the mill.
One word to such readers (judicious and wise) as read books with
something behind the mere eyes, of whom in the country, perhaps,
there are two, including myself, gentle reader, and you. All the
characters sketched in this slight jeu d’esprit, though it may be they
seem, here and there, rather free and drawn from a somewhat too
cynical standpoint, are meant to be faithful, for that is the grand
point, and none but an owl would feel sore at a rub from a jester
who tells you, without any subterfuge, that he sits in Diogenes’ tub.
 A PRELIMINARY NOTE TO THE SECOND EDITION
Though it well may be reckoned, of all composition, the species
at once most delightful and healthy, is a thing which an author,
unless he be wealthy and willing to pay for that kind of delight, is
not, in all instances, called on to write, though there are, it is said,
who, their spirits to cheer, slip in a new title-page three times a year,
and in this way snuff up an imaginary savor of that sweetest of
dishes, the popular favor,—much as if a starved painter should fall
to and treat Ugolino inside to a picture of meat.
You remember (if not, pray turn backward and look) that, in
writing the preface which ushered my book, I treated you, excellent
Public, not merely with a cool disregard, but downright cavalierly.
Now I would not take back the least thing I then said, though I
thereby could butter both sides of my bread, for I never could see
that an author owed aught to the people he solaced, diverted, or
taught; and, as for mere fame, I have long ago learned that the
persons by whom it is finally earned are those with whom your
verdict weighed not a pin, unsustained by the higher court sitting
within.
But I wander from what I intended to say,—that you have,
namely, shown such a liberal way of thinking and so much æsthetic
perception of anonymous worth in the handsome reception you gave
to my book, spite of some private piques (having bought the first
thousand in barely two weeks), that I think, past a doubt, if you
measured the phiz of yours most devotedly, Wonderful Quiz, you
would find that its vertical section was shorter, by an inch and two
tenths, or ’twixt that and a quarter.
You have watched a child playing—in those wondrous years
when belief is not bound to the eyes and the ears, and the vision
divine is so clear and unmarred, that each baker of pies in the dirt is
a bard? Give a knife and a shingle, he fits out a fleet, and, on that
little mud-puddle over the street his fancy, in purest good faith, will
make sail round the globe with a puff of his breath for a gale, will
visit, in barely ten minutes, all climes, and do the Columbus-feat
hundreds of times. Or, suppose the young poet fresh stored with
delights from that Bible of childhood “The Arabian Nights,” he will
turn to a crony and cry, “Jack, let’s play that I am a Genius!” Jacky
straightway makes Aladdin’s Lamp out of a stone, and, for hours,
they enjoy each his own supernatural powers. This is all very pretty
and pleasant, but then suppose our two urchins have grown into
men, and both have turned authors,—one says to his brother, “Let’s
play we’re the American somethings or other,—say Homer or
Sophocles, Goethe or Scott (only let them be big enough no matter
what). Come, you shall be Byron or Pope, which you choose: I’ll be
Coleridge, and both shall write mutual reviews.” So they both (as
mere strangers) before many days send each other a cord of
anonymous bays. Each, piling his epithets, smiles in his sleeve to
see what his friend can be made to believe; each, reading the other’s
unbiased review, thinks—Here’s pretty high praise, but no more
than my due. Well, we laugh at them both, and yet make no great
fuss when the same farce is acted to benefit us. Even I, who, if
asked, scarce a month since, what Fudge meant, should have
answered, the dear Public’s critical judgment, begin to think sharp-
witted Horace spoke sooth when he said that the Public sometimes
hit the truth.
In reading these lines, you perhaps have a vision of a person in
pretty good health and condition; and yet, since I put forth my
primary edition, I have been crushed, scorched, withered, used up
and put down (by Smith with the cordial assistance of Brown), in
all, if you put any faith in my rhymes, to the number of ninety-five
several times, and, while I am writing,—I tremble to think of it, for I
may at this moment be just on the brink of it,—Molybdostom, angry
at being omitted, has begun a critique,—am I not to be pitied?[1]
Now I shall not crush them, since, indeed, for that matter, no
pressure I know of could render them flatter; nor wither nor scorn
them,—no action of fire could make either them or their articles
drier; nor waste time in putting them down—I am thinking not their
own self-inflation will keep them from sinking; for there’s this
contradiction about the whole bevy,—though without the least
weight, they are awfully heavy. No, my dear honest bore, surdo
fabulam narras, they are no more to me than a rat in the arras. I can
walk with the Doctor, get facts from the Don, or draw out the
Lambish quintessence of John, and feel nothing more than a half-
comic sorrow, to think that they all will be lying to-morrow tossed
carelessly up on the waste-paper shelves and forgotten by all but
their half-dozen selves. Once snug in my attic, my fire in a roar, I
leave the whole pack of them outside the door. With Hakluyt or
Purchas I wander away to the black northern seas or barbaric
Cathay; get fou with O’Shanter, and sober me then with that builder
of brick-kilnish dramas, rare Ben; snuff Herbert, as holy as a flower
on a grave; with Fletcher wax tender, o’er Chapman grow brave;
with Marlowe or Kyd take a fine poet-rave; in Very, most Hebrew of
Saxons, find peace; with Lycidas welter on vext Irish seas; with
Webster grow wild, and climb earthward again, down by mystical
Browne’s Jacob’s-ladder-like brain, to that spiritual Pepys (Cotton’s
version) Montaigne; find a new depth in Wordsworth, undreamed of
before,—that marvel, a poet divine who can bore. Or, out of my
study the scholar thrown off, Nature holds up her shield ’gainst the
sneer and the scoff; the landscape, forever consoling and kind pours
her wine and her oil on the smarts of the mind. The waterfall,
scattering its vanishing gems; the tall grove of hemlocks, with moss
on their stems, like plashes of sunlight; the pond in the woods,
where no foot but mine and the bittern’s intrudes, where pitcher-
plants purple and gentians hard by recall to September the blue of
June’s sky; these are all my kind neighbors, and leave me no wish to
say aught to you all, my poor critics, but—pish! I’ve buried the
hatchet; I’m twisting an allumette out of one of you now, and
relighting my calumet. In your private capacities, come when you
please, I will give you my hand and a fresh pipe apiece.
As I ran through the leaves of my poor little book to take a fond
author’s first tremulous look, it was quite an excitement to hunt the
errata, sprawled in as birds’ tracks are in some kinds of strata (only
these made things crookeder). Fancy an heir that a father had seen
born well-featured and fair, turning suddenly wry-nosed, club-
footed, squint-eyed, hair-lipped, wapper-jawed, carrot-haired, from
a pride become an aversion,—my case was yet worse. A club-foot
(by way of a change) in a verse, I might have forgiven, an o’s being
wry, a limp in an e, or a cock in an i,—but to have the sweet babe
served in pi! I am not queasy-stomached, but such a Thyestean
banquet as that was quite out of the question.
In the edition now issued, no pains are neglected, and my verses,
as orators say, stand corrected. Yet some blunders remain of the
Public’s own make, which I wish to correct for my personal sake.
For instance, a character drawn in pure fun and condensing the traits
of a dozen in one, has been, as I hear, by some persons applied to a
good friend of mine, whom to stab in the side, as we walked along
chatting and joking together, would not be my way. I can hardly tell
whether a question will ever arise in which he and I should by any
strange fortune agree but meanwhile, my esteem for him grows as I
know him, and, though not the best judge on earth of a poem, he
knows what it is he is saying and why, and is honest and fearless,
two good points which I have not found so rife I can easily smother
my love for them, whether on my side or t’ other.
 From my other anonymi, you may be sure that I know what is
meant by a caricature, and what by a portrait. There are those who
think it is capital fun to be spattering their ink on quiet,
unquarrelsome folk, but the minute the game changes sides and the
others begin it, they see something savage and horrible in it. As for
me I respect neither women nor men for their gender, nor own any
sex in a pen. I choose just to hint to some causeless unfriends that,
as far as I know, there are always two ends (and one of them
heaviest, too) to a staff, and two parties also to every good laugh.
A FABLE FOR CRITICS
P HŒBUS, sitting one day in a laurel-tree’s shade,
Was reminded of Daphne, of whom it was made,
For the god being one day too warm in his wooing,
She took to the tree to escape his pursuing;
Be the cause what it might, from his offers she shrunk,
And, Ginevra-like, shut herself up in a trunk;
And, though ’twas a step into which he had driven her,
He somehow or other had never forgiven her;
Her memory he nursed as a kind of a tonic,
Something bitter to chew when he’d play the Byronic,
And I can’t count the obstinate nymphs that he brought over
By a strange kind of smile he put on when he thought of her.
“My case is like Dido’s,” he sometimes remarked;
“When I last saw my love she was fairly embarked
In a laurel, as she thought—but (ah, how fate mocks!)
She has found it by this time a very bad box;
Let hunters from me take this saw when they need it,—
You’re not always sure of your game when you’ve treed it.
Just conceive such a change taking place in one’s mistress!
What romance would be left?—who can flatter or kiss trees?
And, for mercy’s sake, how could one keep up a dialogue
With a dull wooden thing that will live and will die a log,—
Not to say that the thought would forever intrude
That you’ve less chance to win her the more she is wood?
Ah! it went to my heart, and the memory still grieves,
To see those loved graces all taking their leaves;
Those charms beyond speech, so enchanting, but now,
As they left me forever, each making its bough!
If her tongue had a tang sometimes more than was right,
Her new bark is worse than ten times her old bite.”

Now, Daphne—before she was happily treeified—

Over all other blossoms the lily had deified,
And when she expected the god on a visit
(’Twas before he had made his intentions explicit),
Some buds she arranged with a vast deal of care,
To look as if artlessly twined in her hair,
Where they seemed, as he said, when he paid his addresses,
Like the day breaking through the long night of her tresses;
So whenever he wished to be quite irresistible,
Like a man with eight trumps in his hand at a whist-table
(I feared me at first that the rhyme was untwistable,
Though I might have lugged in an allusion to Christabel),—
He would take up a lily, and gloomily look in it,
As I shall at the——, when they cut up my book in it.

Well, here, after all the bad rhyme I’ve been spinning,
I’ve got back at last to my story’s beginning:
Sitting there, as I say, in the shade of his mistress,
As dull as a volume of old Chester mysteries,
Or as those puzzling specimens which, in old histories,
We read of his verses—the Oracles, namely,—
(I wonder the Greeks should have swallowed them tamely,
For one might bet safely whatever he has to risk,
They were laid at his door by some ancient Miss Asterisk,
And so dull that the men who retailed them out-doors
Got the ill name of augurs, because they were bores,—)
First, he mused what the animal substance or herb is
Would induce a mustache, for you know he’s imberbis;
Then he shuddered to think how his youthful position
Was assailed by the age of his son the physician;
At some poems he glanced, had been sent to him lately,
And the metre and sentiment puzzled him greatly;
“Mehercle! I’d make such proceeding felonious,—
Have they all of them slept in the cave of Trophonius?
Look well to your seat, ’tis like taking an airing
On a corduroy road, and that out of repairing;
It leads one, ’tis true, through the primitive forest,
Grand natural features, but then one has no rest;
You just catch a glimpse of some ravishing distance,
When a jolt puts the whole of it out of existence,—
Why not use their ears, if they happen to have any?”
—Here the laurel-leaves murmured the name of poor Daphne.

“O, weep with me, Daphne,” he sighed, “for you know it’s
A terrible thing to be pestered with poets!
But, alas, she is dumb, and the proverb holds good,
She never will cry till she’s out of the wood!
What wouldn’t I give if I never had known of her?
’Twere a kind of relief had I something to groan over:
If I had but some letters of hers, now, to toss over,
I might turn for the nonce a Byronic philosopher,
And bewitch all the flats by bemoaning the loss of her.
One needs something tangible, though, to begin on,—
A loom, as it were, for the fancy to spin on;
What boots all your grist? it can never be ground
Till a breeze makes the arms of the windmill go round,
(Or, if ’tis a water-mill, alter the metaphor,
And say it won’t stir, save the wheel be well wet afore,
Or lug in some stuff about water “so dreamily,”—
It is not a metaphor, though, ’tis a simile);
A lily, perhaps, would set my mill a-going,
For just at this season, I think, they are blowing.
Here, somebody, fetch one; not very far hence
They’re in bloom by the score, ’tis but climbing a fence,
There’s a poet hard by, who does nothing but fill his
Whole garden, from one end to t’other, with lilies;
A very good plan, were it not for satiety,
One longs for a weed here and there, for variety;
Though a weed is no more than a flower in disguise,
Which is seen through at once if love give a man eyes ”
Which is seen through at once, if love give a man eyes.

Now there happened to be among Phœbus’s followers,

A gentleman, one of the omnivorous swallowers
Who bolt every book that comes out of the press,
Without the least question of larger or less,
Whose stomachs are strong at the expense of their head,—
For reading new books is like eating new bread,
One can bear it at first, but by gradual steps he
Is brought to death’s door of a mental dyspepsy.
On a previous stage of existence, our Hero
Had ridden outside, with the glass below zero;
He had been, ’tis a fact you may safely rely on,
Of a very old stock a most eminent scion,—
A stock all fresh quacks their fierce boluses ply on,
Who stretch the new boots Earth’s unwilling to try on,
Whom humbugs of all shapes and sorts keep their eye on,
Whose hair’s in the mortar of every new Zion,
Who, when whistles are dear, go directly and buy one,
Who think slavery a crime that we must not say fie on,
Who hunt, if they e’er hunt at all, with the lion
(Though they hunt lions also, whenever they spy one),
Who contrive to make every good fortune a wry one,
And at last choose the hard bed of honor to die on,
Whose pedigree, traced to earth’s earliest years,
Is longer than anything else but their ears;—
In short, he was sent into life with the wrong key,
He unlocked the door, and stept forth a poor donkey.
Though kicked and abused by his bipedal betters
Yet he filled no mean place in the kingdom of letters;
Far happier than many a literary hack,
He bore only paper-mill rags on his back
(For it makes a vast difference which side the mill
One expends on the paper his labor and skill);
S h hi l i d i i
So, when his soul waited a new transmigration,
And Destiny balanced ’twixt this and that station,
Not having much time to expend upon bothers,
Remembering he’d had some connection with authors;
And considering his four legs had grown paralytic,—
She set him on two, and he came forth a critic.

Through his babyhood no kind of pleasure he took

In any amusement but tearing a book;
For him there was no intermediate stage
From babyhood up to straight-laced middle age;
There were years when he didn’t wear coat-tails behind,
But a boy he could never be rightly defined;
Like the Irish Good Folk, though in length scarce a span,
From the womb he came gravely, a little old man;
While other boys’ trousers demanded the toil
Of the motherly fingers on all kinds of soil,
Red, yellow, brown, black, clayey, gravelly, loamy,
He sat in the corner and read Viri Romæ.
He never was known to unbend or to revel once
In base, marbles, hockey, or kick up the devil once;
He was just one of those who excite the benevolence
Of your old prigs who sound the soul’s depths with a ledger,
And are on the lookout for some young men to “edger-
Cate,” as they call it, who won’t be too costly,
And who’ll afterward take to the ministry mostly;
Who always wear spectacles, always look bilious,
Always keep on good terms with each materfamilias
Throughout the whole parish, and manage to rear
Ten boys like themselves, on four hundred a year:
Who, fulfilling in turn the same fearful conditions,
Either preach through their noses, or go upon missions.

In this way our Hero got safely to college,

Where he bolted alike both his commons and knowledge;
Where he bolted alike both his commons and knowledge;
A reading-machine, always wound up and going
He mastered whatever was not worth the knowing,
Appeared in a gown, with black waistcoat of satin,
To spout such a Gothic oration in Latin
That Tully could never have made out a word in it
(Though himself was the model the author preferred in it),
And grasping the parchment which gave him in fee
All the mystic and-so-forths contained in A.B.,
He was launched (life is always compared to a sea),
With just enough learning, and skill for the using it,
To prove he’d a brain, by forever confusing it.
So worthy St. Benedict, piously burning
With the holiest zeal against secular learning,
Nesciensque scienter, as writers express it,
Indoctusque sapienter a Roma recessit.

’Twould be endless to tell you the things that he knew,

Each a separate fact, undeniably true,
But with him or each other they’d nothing to do;
No power of combining, arranging, discerning,
Digested the masses he learned into learning;
There was one thing in life he had practical knowledge for
(And this, you will think, he need scarce go to college for),—
Not a deed would he do, nor a word would he utter,
Till he’d weighed its relations to plain bread and butter.
When he left Alma Mater, he practised his wits
In compiling the journals’ historical bits,—
Of shops broken open, men falling in fits,
Great fortunes in England bequeathed to poor printers,
And cold spells, the coldest for many past winters,—
Then, rising by industry, knack, and address,
Got notices up for an unbiased press,
With a mind so well poised, it seemed equally made for
Applause or abuse, just which chanced to be paid for;
From this point his progress was rapid and sure,
To the post of a regular heavy reviewer.

And here I must say he wrote excellent articles

On Hebraical points, or the force of Greek particles;
They filled up the space nothing else was prepared for,
And nobody read that which nobody cared for;
If any old book reached a fiftieth edition,
He could fill forty pages with safe erudition:
He could gauge the old books by the old set of rules,
And his very old nothings pleased very old fools;
But give him a new book, fresh out of the heart,
And you put him at sea without compass or chart,—
His blunders aspired to the rank of an art;
For his lore was engraft, something foreign that grew in him,
Exhausting the sap of the native and true in him,
So that when a man came with a soul that was new in him,
Carving new forms of truth out of Nature’s old granite,
New and old at their birth, like Le Verrier’s planet,
Which, to get a true judgment, themselves must create
In the soul of their critic the measure and weight,
Being rather themselves a fresh standard of grace,
To compute their own judge, and assign him his place,
Our reviewer would crawl all about it and round it,
And, reporting each circumstance just as he found it,
Without the least malice,—his record would be
Profoundly æsthetic as that of a flea,
Which, supping on Wordsworth, should print, for our sakes,
Recollections of nights with the Bard of the Lakes,
Or, lodged by an Arab guide, ventured to render a
Comprehensive account of the ruins of Denderah.

As I said, he was never precisely unkind,

The defect in his brain was just absence of mind;
If he boasted, ’twas simply that he was self-made,
A position which I, for one, never gainsaid,
My respect for my Maker supposing a skill
In His works which our Hero would answer but ill;
And I trust that the mould which he used may be cracked, or he,
Made bold by success, may enlarge his phylactery,
And set up a kind of a man-manufactory,—
An event which I shudder to think about, seeing
That Man is a moral, accountable being.

He meant well enough, but was still in the way,

As dunces still are, let them be where they may;
Indeed, they appear to come into existence
To impede other folks with their awkward assistance;
If you set up a dunce on the very North Pole
All alone with himself, I believe, on my soul,
He’d manage to get betwixt somebody’s shins,
And pitch him down bodily, all in his sins,
To the grave polar bears sitting round on the ice,
All shortening their grace, to be in for a slice;
Or, if he found nobody else there to pother,
Why, one of his legs would just trip up the other,
For there’s nothing we read of in torture’s inventions,
Like a well-meaning dunce with the best of intentions.

A terrible fellow to meet in society,

Not the toast that he buttered was ever so dry at tea;
There he’d sit at the table and stir in his sugar,
Crouching close for a spring, all the while, like a cougar;
Be sure of your facts, of your measures and weights,
Of your time,—he’s as fond as an Arab of dates;
You’ll be telling, perhaps, in your comical way,
Of something you’ve seen in the course of the day;
A d j ’ i h l i
And, just as you’re tapering out the conclusion,
You venture an ill-fated classic allusion,—
The girls have all got their laughs ready, when, whack!
The cougar comes down on your thunderstruck back!
You had left out a comma,—your Greek’s put in joint,
And pointed at cost of your story’s whole point.
In the course of the evening you find chance for certain
Soft speeches to Anne, in the shade of the curtain:
You tell her your heart can be likened to one flower,
“And that, O most charming of women ’s the sunflower,
Which turns”—here a clear nasal voice, to your terror,
From outside the curtain, says, “That’s all an error.”
As for him, he’s—no matter, he never grew tender,
Sitting after a ball, with his feet on the fender,
Shaping somebody’s sweet features out of cigar smoke
(Though he’d willingly grant you that such doings are smoke);
All women he damns with mutabile semper,
And if ever he felt something like love’s distemper,
’Twas tow’rds a young lady who spoke ancient Mexican,
And assisted her father in making a lexicon;
Though I recollect hearing him get quite ferocious
About Mary Clausum, the mistress of Grotius,
Or something of that sort,—but, no more to bore ye
With character-painting, I’ll turn to my story.

Now, Apollo, who finds it convenient sometimes

To get his court clear of the makers of rhymes,
The genus, I think it is called, irritabile,
Every one of whom thinks himself treated most shabbily,
And nurses a—what is it?—immedicabile,
Which keeps him at boiling-point, hot for a quarrel,
As bitter as wormwood, and sourer than sorrel,
If any poor devil but look at a laurel;—
Apollo, I say, being sick of their rioting
(Though he sometimes acknowledged their verse had a quieting
Effect after dinner, and seemed to suggest a
Retreat to the shrine of tranquil siesta),
Kept our Hero at hand, who, by means of a bray,
Which he gave to the life, drove the rabble away;
And if that wouldn’t do, he was sure to succeed,
If he took his review out and offered to read;
Or, failing in plans of this milder description,
He would ask for their aid to get up a subscription,
Considering that authorship wasn’t a rich craft,
To print the “American drama of Witchcraft.”
“Stay, I’ll read you a scene,”—but he hardly began,
Ere Apollo shrieked “Help!” and the authors all ran:
And once, when these purgatives acted with less spirit,
And the desperate case asked a remedy desperate,
He drew from his pocket a foolscap epistle
As calmly as if ’twere a nine-barrelled pistol,
And threatened them all with the judgment to come,
Of “A wondering Star’s first impressions of Rome.”
“Stop! stop!” with their hands o’er their ears, screamed the Muses,
“He may go off and murder himself, if he chooses,
’Twas a means self-defence only sanctioned his trying,
’Tis mere massacre now that the enemy’s flying;
If he’s forced to ’t again, and we happen to be there,
Give us each a large handkerchief soaked in strong ether.”

I called this a “Fable for Critics”; you think it’s

More of a display of my rhythmical trinkets;
My plot, like an icicle, ’s slender and slippery,
Every moment more slender, and likely to slip awry,
And the reader unwilling in loco desipere
Is free to jump over as much of my flippery
As he fancies, and, if he’s a provident skipper, he
May have like Odysseus control of the gales,
And get safe to port, ere his patience quite fails;
Moreover, although ’tis a slender return
For your toil and expense, yet my paper will burn,
And, if you have manfully struggled thus far with me,
You may e’en twist me up, and just light your cigar with me:
If too angry for that, you can tear me in pieces,
And my membra disjecta consign to the breezes,
A fate like great Ratzau’s, whom one of those bores
Who beflead with bad verses poor Louis Quatorze
Describes (the first verse somehow ends with victoire),
As dispersant partout et ses membres et sa gloire;
Or, if I were over-desirous of earning
A repute among noodles for classical learning,
I could pick you a score of allusions, i-wis,
As new as the jests of Didaskalos tis;
Better still, I could make out a good solid list
From authors recondite who do not exist,—
But that would be naughty: at least, I could twist
Something out of Absyrtus, or turn your inquiries
After Milton’s prose metaphor, drawn from Osiris;—
But, as Cicero says he won’t say this or that
(A fetch, I must say, most transparent and flat),
After saying whate’er he could possibly think of,—
I simply will state that I pause on the brink of
A mire, ankle-deep, of deliberate confusion,
Made up of old jumbles of classic allusion:
So, when you were thinking yourselves to be pitied,
Just conceive how much harder your teeth you’d have gritted,
An ’twere not for the dulness I’ve kindly omitted.

I’d apologize here for my many digressions,

Were it not that I’m certain to trip into fresh ones
(’Tis so hard to escape if you get in their mesh once;)
Just reflect if you please how ’tis said by Horatius